Akercocke
Choronzon

THE REVIEW

Pure and malignant musical/conceptual schizophrenia animates the deeds of these four proud and elitist champions of Albion extreme metal.

In circulation for over a decade now, Jason Mendonca and his associates can boast not less than five full-length albums, each more psychopathic, satanic, and sexist than the last, all flavored with an intellectual and noble attitude, avoiding unnecessary poses and ridiculous face painting.

Today, I’d like to consider the album that, more than any other in their discography, in my opinion, presents itself as an anomalous blend of balances on the brink of musical madness: "Choronzon" (also known as "the demon of dispersion" identified with the Guardian of the Abyss, whose number is 333).

The unsuspecting listener who inserts this masterpiece into their CD player will be literally dragged into a parallel universe made of Enochian occult practices and Lovecraftian references seasoned with blind and bloodthirsty fury, sick and consciously evil to the core.

From a strictly musical point of view, we are faced with an incredible blend of genres and styles, never assembled chaotically or casually: black metal, brutal death, dark and gothic rock influences, electronica, interludes worthy of Dead Can Dance, chilling samples from clearly necromantic sessions (see the opener "Praise the Name of Satan"), all evoked by the dominant figure of frontman and guitarist Jason Mendonca (capable of switching from a rotten growl like Suffocation, to the classic Norwegian black scream, to moments where he shows an extraordinary interpretative passion when he chooses to sing clean and thunderous) and by the frenzied and epileptic drumming of the faithful David Gray.

Now, if one decides to dissect the individual songs, you will notice how the brutal components are not particularly original, and neither are the black ones, but it is astonishing how our depraved artists can switch from one to the other without any decline or weakness: moreover, they have the ability to wisely add their own grain (and here there's originality to spare) creating breaks and atmospheres sometimes terrifying, pure horror, other times delirious and simultaneously dreamy (almost romantic).

In short, a mad musical kaleidoscope (embellished with a boundless myriad of riffs, tempo changes, structure, and a remarkable amount of individual technique) from which emerge the already mentioned opener "Praise the Name of Satan", the single "Leviathan" from which a juicy fetish video was drawn, "Son of the Morning" and the concluding and operatic "Goddess flesh".

For refined tastes and strong stomachs.