Blut Aus Nord / Ævangelist
Codex Obscura Nomina
(Debemur Morti Productions)
There’s a certain destination to travel to, crawling through the density of clear blocks, ringing sermons, church-like shadows, and the sprit of club-movement wholly envisioned. This is a place like an old cherished record, maybe an Oak tree: something you can listen to and wander through, outright groove, ceramics of industrialized absolution, physically solid matter; this dissipates and you let your vision seek its void. A channeling drive is built in decay, half-lives; and forged through the master of invention: Time. It baffles your insignia. Pure imagination. Pure realm.
Ripping your spirit through your endoskeleton, you have no flesh. Organic double-kick drums, noise, and a raw spirit: this is the second part, the latter vision. It’s more see-through than the previous plain: both remarkable. Codex Obscura Nomina, a split record by France’s mysterious avant-garde outfit Blut Aus Nord and Oregon/Illinois’ new-age dark metal churners Ævangelist, is a spin through a dance-driven portal of interstellar and shiny hell. The two halves (the bands) reflect one another’s dynamics in orbital and fascinating ways. This is forged in infinite space. The two realms (the split): distinct, uncompromised, merged, and reflexive.
I’ve always dug Blut Aus Nord’s magical sphere: at once unique and intensely emotional. The pairing with the more organic and somewhat rawer AEvangelist makes for a wicked dab of madness. The two pockets of strange and wonderful infinities coalesce into horizons of bleak color; but there’s orange and pink in there as well, yellow noise, religious conviction, grey dirge, techno, architecture so pure and complementary, and signals. Many signals like a forgotten communication. The realm is art. High art: meaning vision and sacred message.
Codex Obscura Nomina is the best zone I’ve heard all year. It perpetuates the drive, the Nietzschean manifesto, and a plea for stronger work: the call for stronger realms, higher plains, no compromises, and endless vision. And you want to listen to it again. That’s a sign. That’s the sign man. It makes you want to create, write, exist; see the side. This is a record that’ll hit the clubs, the dark clubs; space aged, earth-aged, multi-formed, fluxing and real. So real. (Christopher J. Harrington)