Lustmord
Carbon/Core

Lustmord knows well how to do his job, just as he perfectly knows the key elements that make dark ambient, a genre mocked and set aside, a true silent and twisted enigma. Lustmord is an artist in his own right, solitary, unconventional, and somewhat nonchalant: he only does what he pleases, disregarding the rules, because when it comes to him and his way of conceiving atmosphere by dismantling every melodic/musical assumption, then there's no room for anyone else. Listening to his albums, I realized that dark ambient is not just about grinding gurgles for an hour and a half straight; well-made dark ambient is as cryptic in its outcomes as it is polymorphic in its structures, while remaining alien to any form of melody—with some exceptions.

In Lustmord's tracks and especially in this "Carbon/Core", nothing is left to chance: it's all a slow birth, evolution, and dissolution, each track (predictably long) has its own form, development, and above all, its content; it is alive and moves like a pulsating gaseous body writhing in the stereo. If "Purifying Fire", which I reviewed, embodies the distant and sidereal aspect of Lustmord's soul, "Carbon/Core" represents instead the more underwater and menacing heart; the effects, distortions, and electronic dilations entwine and quiver without ever fully unfolding, thus emitting deaf and muffled echoes, capable of disturbing the listener by evoking immense marine depths tinged with sporadic veins of light. The atmosphere, that's certainly not missing.

The pace of the tracks is naturally restrained and devoid of any rhythm, while their structure is a real puzzle of effects, ranging from foamy and indefinite vibrations to increasingly latent and murmuring melodies, from extended rumbles to splintering metallic jolts. Such exploits cling to a clear and compact guiding thread, and consequently all the tracks are cyclical, complete, and never inconclusive despite their length. "Immersion", the opener, has a title suitable for its impact, with that mix of muted buzzes and electronic floods that break off abruptly during the climax; "Beneath" is an underwater cave where lights and shadows play with the spectator's most intimate fears; "Born of Cold Light", the true highlight of the record, is almost relaxing in its chilling candor, accompanied by a wall of Gregorian chants that momentarily strip the scene of its threatening weight.

The true strength of "Carbon/Core" lies anyway in its massive cohesion, as well as in the artist's ability to manage the leitmotifs (forgive the term) of each episode with consistency and uniformity, yet without failing to disorient or fascinate those who want to fully experience this journey. Honestly, I don't feel like recommending the album to anyone except those already accustomed to the genre; those who hate or simply don't appreciate the genre won't change their minds by listening to it. However, that doesn't stop me from assigning it a high rating, both for its qualities and for the significance it has had in my little world: Lustmord is not just a mass of electronics, Lustmord is a morbid introspective journey, made of wonder and unease.