Tuesday, 8 November 2011


Absolutely dominating and raging BM from this Californian miscreant who seems hellbent on producing the most spellbinding and unholy batch of songs laid to waste this year, the pacing and atmosphere found here is right up there with any of the masterpieces from the genre and easily matches it with similar like minded artists stomping around in the Black Twilight. Listening to this album it is brutally clear that the writer has such a firm and strong view on what he considers BM and as such feels no need to deviate into experimental territory, instead opting for a traditional feel while still maintaining an originality rarely seen with its harsh portrayal of life and how it has treated him. A lot has been said about the production of this CS, and yes it is rough as fucking guts, and while initially this put me off somewhat, it has grown to become part of it charm. BM is not about production values, it is about the great need to purge oneself of the deep feelings within through the medium of Black Arts in whatever format or means possible, this tape and recording captures that need perfectly and I am now unsure whether or not to buy the pro-tape version which is coming out soon, on one hand I want to hear how Tukaaria intended it to be heard but on the other I don’t want the perfection and genius I feel this album has embodied to be eroded away by clarity and production values. The internet age is very quick to judge and pass a brutal opinion on anything and everything, had this came out in the 90’s it probably would have been accepted for what it is and heralded as a high water mark for underground BM, but now, with forums and downloads available for anyone who has a computer and zero values, people can become a genius with the click of a button thus garnering them with the need to scrutinize what otherwise should be listened to and dissected over time, experiencing these songs in different lights and times of the day or on headphones and out loud then being able to form an educated opinion full well knowing and feeling its original intent other than that of a zip file and pixilated graphics. One listen to the forceful spewing forth of vocals coupled with the crypt door closing drum hits and furious hammering guitar parts should leave no other feeling than that of adrenalin fueled blood rush  and glorious disgust, the passion with which these songs are recorded and delivered is unrivaled, nothing is hidden behind walls of noise or trickery and once you do get past the initial rough quality you will be greeted with a vast array of perfect ominous vibes and intricate passages that will stay with you for days/weeks/months afterwards. My favourite part of this album can be found on the opener on the B-side “Prehistoric Silence” when the clean, mournful chants of death causes the atmosphere to become freezing cold and enchantingly delirious. Something about the understanding of what makes a good BM album is so obvious here, while each song works on it’s own you really need to listen to Raw to the Rapine as a whole, as each song works into the other and each perfectly complemented by the rotten beauty found in the final tombstone “Transfixion” as its instrumental funeral march marks a depressing and fitting end to the five masterful strokes found before it. Highest Recommendation.