Enochian Crescent
Babalon Patralx De Telocvovim

After the violently blasphemous opening of "Telocvovim," the Finnish Enochian Crescent repeatedly demonstrated their self-destructive tendencies and truly nihilistic, homicidal, Satanic nature, ending up with a concert stopped by law enforcement and numerous arrests—which nearly dissolved the band—caused by the way the singer Victor presented that performance: he calmly bit off a sizable portion of flesh from his right arm...

The mini that followed those biased demonstrations, "Babalon Patralx De Telocvovim," encapsulates much of the Finnish band's anti-Christian essence, their hallucinated conception of existence, and their massive destructive will, which, if in some way brings them closer to Emperor, on the other hand relegates them to an even less considered realm than where the neighbors Shining are located.

The opening track, named "Pestilence And Honey," evokes the atmosphere of a medieval city infested with leprosy, and the spectral sound of bells announcing the approach of the afflicted. Under the rain of Generis's hits and the guitar carpet that is anything but deafening, Victor's gurgling and terrifyingly angry scream stands out, culminating in a spectacular bridge overlapping a fantastic riff; the track proceeds as if in reverse, between violence and acidity, and ends as it began, swallowing everything back into the horror of the bells.

A worthy continuation is "Vabzir Camliax," with its characteristic fast and well-organized riffing, overall speed not extremely high but certainly superior to the opener; violence is more evident from the almost shrill screams and the snare-double bass drum of the drummer—it's noteworthy that he also plays in a country music band... The sudden and frightening accelerations are an incredible concentrate of hatred and coldness, capable only of penetrating and tearing, yet not completely convincing. The same pattern continues with the rhythmic and violent "Thirteen Candle," characterized by a chorus that serves as a sort of constant in Enochian Crescent's compositions: a deep and creeping effect-laden growl alternating with the irritating screaming, and a very slight synth that only extends into the black space the depth of the ridicule and violence of the materialist destruction that becomes almost palpable.

Less engaging is "Mortiferum Or Ptomaine Malaise," which fails to recreate the destructive and evocatively gruesome atmospheres of the previous three tracks, until near the end, where a sudden guitar riff emerging from darkness and silence anticipates a chorus involving at least three types of voices, including a female one, truly chilling, in which every hope seems lost, swallowed by the jaws of the abyss, scattered and swept away by the winds of the icy Finnish cliffs.

It closes with "A Mathilde," featuring the credit "a strong, typical, unpublished poem of the beast." It is a rather static track, where terror and pain blend in a singing voice that gradually becomes more acidic and penetrating, drawing from the various songs already played, for a heart-pounding, acidic, cruel, burning finale.

An unapproachable, reckless, evil album and band; beyond joy, beyond the world.