The Night Eternal

Lo and behold, one of my latest fetish bands alongside Antioch and By Fire & Sword is Essen, North Rhine-Westphalia's The Night Eternal, whose studio output so far is limited to ghostly eldritch titular EP comprised of three mildly divergent originals which precede a quirky albeit befitting reprise of Judas Priest's lowbrow sleeper from 1982's Screaming For Vengeance, "(Take These) Chains".

Released in July on old-school cassette as well as 12" vinyl under the reputable Dying Victim Productions, the German quintet's 17.5 minute initial foray into the metal Universe features all the hallmarks of a potential cult favourite, in similarly seizing vein as Chicago's Satan's Hallow, Philadelphia's Sumerlands, Boston's Magic Circle, and, for want of a fellow European contemporary, Sicily's Temptress (which has just snuck onto the scene with its radically ineluctable The Orb EP). In light of such lofty sentiment, allow me to expound, in depth, on what makes this release so transcendentally harmonious and appealing, if not richly complex and woven.

For one thing, you can easily draw parallels to each of the four above hailed parties, from singularly charismatic front man's drawling, dour inflections which constantly flirt with a tell-tale fluidic cragginess/warble akin to a keen dramaturge about to lose it altogether, to pure, crushing heaviness by way of effortlessly eased, yet rather unorthodox, riffing patterns involving mass, slip-sliding skid-age on each of the tracks (like the high-wire, amplified fidelity forty-odd seconds into alternately syntaxed opener "Eternal Night"), except, of course, for said liberally kitsch cover of Rob H. and Co., which, as token guilty pleasure, I'll merrily crow about, sooner or later.

Initially, the vocalist evokes a less twisted but as-cryptic n ' occultic Messiah Marcolin of old tyme Candlemass infamy before letting it all hang loose at said doom-knocking, knuckle-dusting inception. Overall, the leads unequivocally pander to one's archaic sensibilities in a most kooky and enthralling manner liable to induce unfettered paroxysms of super-shuffle-some air-guitar, a flummoxed and beguiled entourage, notwithstanding!

Hell, the swiftly crystalline and shimmering fulminations, notably at the behest of rumpling and rollicking bridgework amidst "Mark of Kain", along with the shorter, but no less wry and pummelling, "Vindicta", possess the signature fluidity of modern classics akin to personal fav of mine in Sumerlands, the Keystone banger referred to above. The latter's booming bass-heavy beginning soon transforms into a crab-like scuttle worthy of any land-lubbing metal head whilst I can't quite get enough of its particularly gripping mid-point at exactly 02:45 or so, whence a psychotic instrumental surge sees me peeling my face off the floor prior to brief, gruelling return to nascent, "redeeming" form.

To boot, the rough & tumble drumming also generates many compelling returns thanks to their numerous jabbing, eclectic, thunderous fills - somewhat reminiscent of fellow newcomer, Sweden's Widundret, whose equally recent, four-tracked EP, Unholy, also comes highly recommended.

In regards to Priest's dorky "Chains", I readily admit falling to my knees not once, but twice: at first, during those rangy and bouncily poised clear notes - where Halford languidly croons "I move away, it don't do me no good/three thousand miles don't help like I thought it would", then soon after that cheesy and anthem-like arena rock per-chorus/chorus/verse, as he jubilantly squeals "And I can't sleep at night!", whilst piercing guitar solo takes centre stage. Maybe I'm a sucker, but I actually favour The Night Eternal's version over hoary original!

It goes without saying this short and addictive EP struck me with the full force of a solar flare, so there's no doubt in my mind the Metal World will buckle under its charms, which hopefully soon include debut full-length.