White Medal / Slægt

A marriage made in Heaven, or Hell as it were: here's the unholy coupling of Slaegt and White Medal, and what a racket they call up on this short split for just under 14 minutes.

Leading in with a few clicks of the drumsticks is White Medal at its most cheesed-off furious with "Them Thut Fear t'Wolf". Whatever it was that made main White Medal man George Proctor so upset as to produce this rampage of ravenous lupine loonery, monstrous percussion banging and pounding away as if just handed the orders to crank out a 1,000 tanks in 2 weeks flat because they're needed for the Mother of All Wars across the Channel somewhere, and demonic voices roaring and screeching louder than the Incredible Hulk at his most badass bad-tempered, I don't dare to think: maybe someone mistook the White Medal man for the local church vicar. (Not hard to do with a name like George Proctor.) For a full 7 minutes and then some, Hell is turned upside down and inside out as a roiling mass of monster entities race around its deep labyrinthine passages purging them of the slather and molten remains of human souls and bodies accreted over the aeons. What structure is given to this full-on tsunami of noisy guitar blast and multi-voiced gibbering freakfest comes from the massive pounding drum orchestra in the background. Rare are the moments when the noise lifts slightly (around the 4th minute, as if to signal the halfway mark) but even here there's no relief because these are the times when the baying pack of super canines gather the strength to launch another all-out attack assault on your juddering senses.

Though the track is raw, it's surprisingly clear all the way through but that's no consolation: you can hear every instrument going completely bonkers and every demon voice from the Godzilla-growliest to the most spidery death rattle shrieking its utmost.

With White Medal out of the way, Slaegt's "Lysets Død" has a tough call to match but this one-man act isn't to be put off. The sound is much thinner and the singing is very scrawny but the ragged guitars and percussion are possessed of single-minded determination and energy. A passion that might have sprung from the same well that birthed the French Black Legions band Vlad Tepes - "Lysets Død" does sound similar to parts of the French band's side of the split album "March to the Black Holocaust" - powers Slaegt's efforts all the way and the song has a very heroic triumphal folk-oriented flavour.

Compared to WM's effort, Slaegt's effort is more melodic and disciplined and the fellow behind the act seems to have plenty more
energy and strength to continue for another several minutes at least.

Both bands complement each other by their differences rather than try to out-compete each other on a narrow range of noisy elements. It's probably best though when you first approach this split to listen to Slaegt's side first and then White Medal to avoid being blown out unawares. While White Medal might make more of an impression on most listeners, sheer quantity of noise doesn't always win out over a steady control over the same.