Syndrome of the End Approaching

I believe I found this on the distribution list to one record label or another. Either way this is a hidden gem of raw-ass (fitting metaphor) USBM. Songs herein are almost all cyclical patterns in and of themselves, each building a slowly intensifying mood. Just the same, the album feels utterly feverish because the primary mood shifts erratically from song to song. For me this isn't distracting at all though. Rather, it leads the entire recording to sound that much more psychotic, which is always a welcome attribute in this arena. Some songs are despairing to the point of near-collapse, while others are terminally rabid, set afire with their fury. Others still seem rife with a kind of deranged mockery, the bizarre vocals adding to this aspect.

For those who covet those distinguished recordings which are murky-as-hell, yet whose every component part can be heard clearly, well, this might be another item to add to your wish-lists. All instruments are discernible amidst the chaos. For roughly half the time, this chaos rushes at full at blastbeat pace. Indeed, the drums are unusually thunderous and aggressive for a one-man yankee horde. For the other half of the record, the pace is more like an unstable trance, not quite melancholic, delirious rather.

Back to the vocals for a moment, which I would regard more as another of the instruments than anything else. These are oft skewed by some rather unorthodox F/X. A number of possible identities could be attributed to the various insane voices audible throughout the album. Fractured radio transmissions perhaps? Some inhuman being from a 70's Dr. Who episode? Recordings of freaked-out Deep South choirs drunkenly dancing with water moccasins? Who the fuck knows. Regardless, one is bombarded by strange voices from the beginning of Symptoms… to the end. And there are numerous crazed samples splattered throughout the proceedings as well. Were the lone craftsman behind all this fond of old Skinny Puppy and Coil as well as the obvious blackened necro-fiendery, it wouldn't surprise me at all.

Were one to infer from this that A.I.D.S. are an experimental act, well, they'd be mistaken. This guy's songs are far more straightforward in structure than bands like Striborg, Mamaleek, or Dodheimsgard. There are simply bizarre, very bizarre accentuations throughout.

Yet this is all very much in keeping with the atmosphere of delirium to be found herein. On the album's cover you can see the burnt husks of buildings standing in the aftermath of war or catastrophe or both. These tunes are played unto the woe of such aftermath. I hear in them the malarial mental state that follows the opening of wounds that do not kill outright. Its a shame the only people who seem to know about this guy's work are Nuclear Hellfrost and a few people in Italy.