Odi des de la fi del món

Just when you thought you had plumbed the spitefully combative sonic depths of the lo-fi/raw black metal milieu, another release comes along that once again dramatically shifts one’s frame of reference. The latest EP from Spain’s Burgûli – a terminally-to-the-point-of-parody bedroom bound black metal project – pushes the limits of credulity in everything from musicianship, composition, production, and gut wrenching sincerity. Think Yamatu, VON, or Mutiilation, but with – if possible – sloppier musicianship, more abrasive production values, and…shall we say a more challenging relationship with the art of minimalism.

This music pitches itself at the point where any metallic DNA is flushed from the system, leaving either a work of avant-garde noise genius, or the clumsiest attempt to reap a creative harvest from the fertile atmospheres of obscure black metal imaginable. Drums are a background pulse of flat snare rolls. But even that is a charitable description, because pulses tend to flow in reliable intervals, a feature completely AWOL here. The time keeping makes early Judas Iscariot look like a well oiled machine of rhythmic precision. Equally, the slow tremolo picked guitar is so pronounced that it becomes a percussive instrument in itself, but one that completely fails to link up with the drums in any recognisable pattern. The result is akin to standing in a corridor between two practice rooms, listening to two entirely different bands rehearse, with any connection between the resulting cacophony being purely incidental.

A second “lead” guitar line occasionally joins the fray, and at least makes a show of linking harmonically and rhythmically with its accompaniment. But as far as enriching the musical offering, aside from embiggening the sound somewhat, from a creative perspective there is very little of note occurring. The most basic mournful threnodies are eked out with little to no variation over the course of some pretty lengthy tracks. At times the effect is almost improvisational. This in itself is not a detriment. It’s just that when a musician chooses to lean on this technique, not knowing where the music may be going, it’s important that it at least goes somewhere, which is more than can be said for these limited, cyclical meanderings around the same basket of rudiments. Vocals are a near random stream of high pitched ejaculations, with no musical content to their name, they serve the simple purpose of cluttering the mix with aural trauma.

Burgûli calls itself atmospheric black metal, which is true in the literal if not the common sense understanding of the phrase. There is atmosphere here. Confusion, ache, strain, humour, despair. But whether these are the intended effects remains unfathomable. For listeners that specialise in black metal as the art of successfully failing to achieve its creative intent, ‘Odi Des De La Fi Del Món’ is nothing short of an embarrassment of riches. But anyone outside of this small clique had best steer well clear of this one. The possibility remains that we are simply being mocked, yet it is equally possible that a masochistic part of us enjoys the experience regardless.

Originally published at Hate Meditations