Godflesh
A World Lit Only by Fire

I had said it, I had already written it in a previous foray into Godflesh territory: that sooner or later I would deal with A World Lit Only by Fire. And today is that day. "A world lit only by fire" reads the title. And that's exactly how it is... A cover image that wants to look back in time, with those funeral colors that recall that Industrial-Metal monolith that was, and still is, Streetcleaner. This time only a single cross stands out, held in the unsteady hands of a human figure. Produced and recorded in Justin's studio, released on his record label. They owe nothing to anyone, they have nothing to prove; even though 13 years have passed since the previous album. It's once again just the two of them playing on the record; reunited friends Justin, on vocals and guitars, and G.C. on bass. A detrimental drum machine accompanies them in developing the musical plots built in the restless flow of the tracks. A solid, crushing work; a return to the terrifying past that saw them dominate the '90s. They reaffirm themselves as the undisputed lords of the Industrial scene; an aseptic, icy, impetuous pounding that annihilates and overwhelms everything. Dark threads endlessly played; the apocalyptic bass repeated with monotony supports the mechanical nature of an eight-string guitar. Completing this display of terrifying strength is Justin's beastly growl: from a dark and exhausting growl to more reflective, clean tones within the same song, almost easy listening. But there is nothing subtle in the minutes of the work. From the initial New Dark Ages to the final and interminable Forgive Our Fathers: a journey without destination, an escape to nowhere, a fall into an abyss saturated with bleeding, pitch-black liquid tar. Dissonant notes, auditory hammering that leave you breathless; the usual painful experience as far as I'm concerned. But what pleasure, what bloody and bastard pleasure for my poor eardrums, as happens in the devastation of Curse Us All: 3 minutes and 47 seconds of carpet bombing, of steel pouring from blast furnaces. Still at the top, still deserving of top marks...SHUT ME DOWN...

Ad Maiora.