Ramesses
We Will Lead You To Glorious Times

Ramesses is something that leaves little to the imagination. If anything, it disturbs its contents.

More than a band, "Q"uesti is a true project whose demonic semblances can only be confronted by the few devoted enough to digest the most extreme metallic asphyxiations. All those who do not know what Doom is (and its horrifying offspring) are therefore obliged to abandon even the most hidden and obscure attempt to approach it. The reason is quite simple: if you take a certain Mark Greening on drums, a familiar Tim Bagshaw on guitar (or rather tank, both former Electric Wizard) and a lesser-known Adam Richardson, bass-vocalist of the misanthropic creature, what can reluctantly lend itself to listening is the well-conceived deformation of the concept of ferrying one extreme, in a copulative (as satanic) manner, into another extreme, whose lair appears (to say with spatial gentleness) one of the most fitting "catthedral-sabbatthian" monstrosities.

In the sound of this horrific and misogynistic-war-mongering album one can indeed detect a myriad of genetic mutations that, so to speak, are rarely detected in a superficial listening of today's bands and consequently need to be subjected to multiple flame tests (an element not lacking in the infernal recording) useful and inevitably due to accept the nature of the work described to you. Yes, dear readers: there are, in my humble opinion, no realities in the scene that can be compared to it. First of all because no one reads, like these three degenerates, what the more complex "wizardian" (you name it!) and "neurotic" obsessions in such a simple manner as to be easily received, and secondly (something that becomes difficult in such a hermetically claustrophobic genre) no one at their level has (in my useless opinion) still managed to give a better interpretation of what extremism is in making Doom counting the millions of kilometers light years apart from what many still dare to call "stoner." This debut (PsycheDOOMelic Records, 2004), indeed has all the air of being an experimentation cleverly disguised by Richardson's voice (decidedly wicked, and/or embittered...), a sought-after evolution this, analyzing tracks like "Witchampton" and "Black Domina Edit," which can unleash memories of the "Come My Fanatics" period, obviously extremized, shaved, drugged and offered as a holocaust to Satan, to the point of leaving one stunned and cursing "I-don't-know-what" demonic entity, but at the same time quantitatively satisfied.

Roughly speaking: this is one of the few things, so to speak, "Heavy" that I feel like recommending to the adepts of such a genre and not. All this with a wish for disillusionment to those who will convince themselves, after reading this poor description, of finding themselves before a messiah bringing innovation to a genre that has now (always according to my poor opinion) little more or almost nothing (more) to say and/or confabulate. Solemnly leaden as alchemical guitars, luciferous screams and enchanted forest atmospheres (through the use of drugs), will provide devastating joys to listeners whose sonic depravity knows no equal. Witches in overdose, occult spirits and rusty chainsaws. Mystical rites, sacrifices, and golden goblets of blood mixed with opium, elements that will lead you into a tunnel of no return where the mind leans towards a single and unique inverted and ultra-heavily hallucinogenic truth where in the end one wonders how three outcasts (probably drug addicts or alcoholics) can face such heavy themes with such (so to speak) simplicity.

This is what makes the sound of a band of this kind so great and I really think that many should lend their ear to it, because there are no such successful attempts, especially after such a great "doommettian" past.

In this CD it is written loud and clear (between the lines and the sound trenches we intend to be tormented by) that the era of the "Return Journeys" and "Hills Have Eyes" is long over. After that, only an intense and barbaric whistle that will grip and cradle your ears: the ultimate explanation of a well-executed work, but most importantly rare, given the times we live in...

Disturbing.