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SVARTKONST
Devil’s Blood

Trust No One Recordings (2018)
Rating: 8.5/10

What more could you want from an album cover? Skull, flickering candle, musty books and a black backdrop.

Although hailing from Sweden, this is not the same Svartkonst band responsible for the 2015 Farsot EP. Instead, what we have here is a fantastic black / death offering from Rickard Törnqvist, who in 2010 started this project under the title of Warg. Now, I hear a lot of metal releases every day, but this debut outing has one of the best guitar tones I’ve heard for some time.

Devil’s Blood brings an earthy yet scathing style of black / death led by salacious vocal spits which weave their way through the black maze of torment, provided by those pitch dark electrifying rushes which occasionally flit into doomier, sinful splurges. The whole despicable tumult of this opus can be summed up in the hammering exhibition that is ‘The Drought’. This epic statement of gruelling pulverisation begins as a black rushing tide of evil, with nothing too fancy at first but just mid-tempo wickedness. It soon smears the ears with a faster break though, before a sudden frothing, menacing hiss as rank and damp shadows of terror begin to fill the soul, guided by sprinkles of suspense and sudden nefarious juddering.

The seven-minute ‘Merciless Death’ adds extra black spices; again, we have that arrogant, swaggering and almost mocking design where one can imagine Rickard taunting his victims – staring down into the slime-coated pit as they claw for the light, yet are pushed down by his evil words and satanic scowls. Each track provides musty gusts of speed coupled with catchy, well-toned and flexible guitar parts which meander in such a feverish and devilish fashion. “Death will set me free…” he barks in thunderous and terrifying fashion as a great tumble of drums signal further occult avalanches, and then we’re sucked into the pitch vacuum of the title track where stark yet twisted riffs cavort and flex like great coils as the steady, punchy drums reverberate off clammy walls. It’s not necessarily overtly bleak or even damp, but it is so suffocating in its darkness.

‘Flames Of Salvation’ follows a punky traipse, while ‘I Am Nothing’ supplies a massive, booming groove which is almost stoner-like in its trajectory and quintessentially Swedish in its grim guffaw as Rickard bellows “Fuck it all…”. This is a true and raw black ‘n’ roll masterpiece that almost stands alone, those almost psychedelic and sun-baked guitar twinges escaping the mossy embankments to bring their own flavour to what soon becomes a hectic rush of gloomier air.

‘Cloven Hoof’ runs like a poisoned black stream, hissing with animosity as the drums thread its way through the murk of abrasive tinkles. Closing instrumental ‘En sten föll från mitt bröst’ operates as a dim and cloying atmosphere blend of primitive sombreness and blackened ambience, meanwhile; the track is haunting yet clammy before the levels of squalid sediment rise, and we’re drowned forevermore.

Neil Arnold

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