Register Forgot login?

© 2002-2021
Encyclopaedia Metallum

Best viewed
without Internet Explorer,
in 1280 x 960 resolution
or higher.

Privacy Policy

Yet Let That Be What The Eye Fears When It Is Done (To Seek) - 82%

CHAIRTHROWER, December 6th, 2019
Written based on this version: 2019, Digital, Independent

Amidst Kentucky's Savage Master and New York's Sanhedrin is a further woman-fronted worthy which commands our full, undivided attention, not to mention riotously sleazy review, in Vienna's Molten Chains, a three-piece castigator of brashly mercurial, as well as borderline blackened "death/thrash", rhythms liable to compel us into scaling antiquated fortress walls like the obsidian cloaked/snow-white haired, arachnid-ial grimion (dis)gracing the cover of September (11th)'s In The Antechamber Below - a half-hour plus, seven tracked full-length debut heralding such classically expunged titles as "Crucifier", "In The Castle of Sycorax", and, ah, "Reverence Knifed"...

Happy times!

No shit, on first listen, yours sardonically was floored, or rather, the floor was wiped with his wryly addled brainpan, following a cavernously creepy and wizened incepting narration leading up to said "Crucifier" opener, a heavy-on-the-trem(olo), disjointly arpeggio'd fulminator like no other, seconds into which the knavish, lowbrow vocal inflections of a yet undisclosed female - who brings to mind an evil cross between Castle's Elizabeth Blackwell and Night Viper's Sofie-Lee Johansson (if that helps any) - underlie some seriously demented and/or caustically expunged high-gain, scratchy riff-ery which sparsely yields lead play, yet wholly compensates by way of actual "lead riffing", and that, at the drop of a Satanic Oxford graduate's ceremonial cap! (By now, its accompanying gown is likely torn to pieces, disposed of in a most vile manner.)

Supposedly the project of one Brenton Weir (of Semetary), Molten Chains' primary ax man, ItAB follows last year's equally cassette-limited, three track Demo MMXVIII, and, by all accounts, certainly necessitates several head-crashing spins in order to fully assimilate in the mind. From the downright zany and crazed bass intro of "In The Castle of Sycorax", or slip-sliding, gruelling riffling of "The Fall" - which actually features a scissoring, "off the wall" and 'scale" triumphant guitar solo of the wildest order - we're left rocking on our heels, slashed underfoot for the entire duration of this hypnotically jarring, however austere and violent, heavy metal outpouring. Actually, "The Fall" is probably the catchiest, if not most accessible, track, like a dollop of sanity within these homocidally lunatic sonic walls.

"The Molten Chains" proper also allows for some concordantly grooving, mashing momentum, in tandem with a sly ferreting bass line as well as stoically down picked six-string vituperation, prior to a wheezy, molasses-like, slow-down inducement where hers diabolically captures the release's cryptic-as-Hell essence, an essence you could distill in a Bunsen burner and likely glean therein, somehow, the mark of the Beast, for want of (a) timely, self-assuaging hyperbole. In any case, its soaring, sped-up return to crippling form and haywire, stratospheric-ally prattled solo/rapid stand alone drum asseveration sweetly presage the killer teeter totter, perhaps psychotic, snakes & ladders bout of helter skelter hammer-ons and pull-offs witch permits a rare bout of familiarity -- akin to Type O Negative and Castle having an ill/in-bred Stygian babe left to be raised by dragons and elves, but I digress.

That said, the album is ripping, fast, relentless, pounding and a haven for those who like their metal devoid of plush, blissful moments, from start to finish...again, even the arpeggio'd and/or progressively strummed instances (particularly so on "Crucifier" and "Reverence Knifed") are distorted in a similar manner as a radioactive. three-eyed newt. The leads towards the end even take on a newly, other-worldly demeanor likely to startle, or at the very least, make one blink thrice. For its part, closer "A Mist In The Night" fitfully juggles tempos with screechy, discordant dissonance i.e. the aforementioned sweep picking barrenness which can almost be considered a hallmark Molten Chains can verily lay claim as its own. To wit, I almost rated In The Antechamber below fairly higher, but held back knowing it's the sort of darkened affair best reserved for gingerly chosen moments of arcane predilection. Ergo, it's difficult to ascribe it a particular genre, or even sub-genre. Hopefully, this here soliloquy rendered flesh suffices...