Dark Fears Behind the Door

Today’s sonic hobbyist is faced with hitherto unprecedented choice. This tends to drive the mind into a state of decision paralysis. With access to limitless content, lifted from any period in human history, any region of the world, our focus is warped and inattentive. There is always something else to move onto, our attention is constantly divided. We are compelled to obsessively categorise and archive our experiences, endlessly cataloguing, never experiencing the now. Seen in this light, artistic meritocracy becomes an illusion. What chance does quality art have in being noticed, much less retained for posterity, in the face of this maelstrom of competing noises?

For that reason, preserving the recent present for the sake of our long-term memory becomes an ever more pressing and noble pursuit. Digging out quality releases from the last few years is a matter of urgent cultural preservation. And that’s precisely what Hessian Firm have done once again with their remastering of ‘Dark Fears Behind the Door’, the second album from little known Filipino outfit Asgardsrei, originally released back in 2013.

At its core this is claustrophobic, ritualistic black metal. There is a good dollop of death metal riffs to augment the suffocating qualities inherent in the low-key mix. But whatever style Asgardrei are referencing on this album, all are put in service of an otherworldly atmosphere which calls to mind Beherit circa ‘Drawing Down the Moon’; it feels like a transmission from space, source unknown.

The guitar tone certainly has more of a death metal flavour to it. The earthy, bass heavy sound fills out the mix, but there is plenty of high-end lead guitar work to offset this, with refrains and short solos ripped straight from Autopsy’s worst nightmares. Drums are subdued and garage quality. The snare and toms are relatively supressed, with most of the emphasis placed on the cymbals cutting across the dirge. Their approach to rhythm has an interesting stop/start quality to it, working in conflict with the fluid guitars with uncertain fills and crashing cymbals. This creates constant tension and unease as one wonders whether the music is building momentum or collapsing in on itself. Vocals are a distant presence, sitting in the mid-range with growls and barks drenched in reverb. Keyboards make frequent appearances, jumping out of the mix with eerie ornamental flourishes, usually played on an organ sound, which gives certain passages a classic 70s horror vibe.

One hesitates to use words like ‘crushing’, consigned as it is to the fodder of overly zealous hyperbolic MA reviewers; but the ‘crushing’ boot fits when it comes to an album like ‘Dark Fears Behind the Door’. There is an insular, clammy, constricting quality to this album, which runs through every aspect of this music beyond the guitar tone itself. The drums – in emphasising the harsh indifference of the crash cymbals and hi-hat – work in layers of discomfort that constantly unsettles the pacing of the music; an interesting use of percussion not often seen in this style. The keyboards – whether performed solo as an interlude, or accenting the guitars – articulate melodies that feel half-formed, almost ghostly, a facsimile of music. The low-end riffs are an ever-present wall of fog, occasionally mutating into lead melodies that are a law unto themselves. Taken together it amounts to a work that is at once alienating and alien. It encases the listener in a restrictive, impenetrable atmosphere of deep discomfort. Yet comes across like a transmission from another planet.

Originally published at: Hate Meditations