Released: 2007, Candlelight Records
In Book VII of The Republic, Socrates compares the unenlightened to a group of slaves chained to a cave, forced to look forever forward at a rocky wall. Behind the prisoners is a flame, and between the flame and the slaves, people parade around holding up puppets, animal images, and other objects. To those chained, the only knowledge of an actual object is a projected image. They accept the image as a reality. UTD, like the Platonic paradigm, is a mythification of reality. It is all spectacle and no substance (like the Platonic comparison I’ve provided…rendering this first paragraph useless).
This is the North American debut of Norway’s Furze, an avant-garde black metal band the extreme metal media is currently jerking off about. Sonically, we have lo-fi christ-raping black metal in which no instrument is playing the same song. Generally speaking, I like fucked up experimental music, and Furze certainly gets points for originality, but, unfortunately, this is just too much of a self-parodistic mess to be considered “good.” From the guitars, to the drums, to the vocals, everyone seems more interested in making inane noises than songs.
Take “Demonic Order in the Eternal Fascist’s Hall” (I feel like a nerd just typing that). This song starts off good…some traditional blasting over a harsh production, grating finger-tapping black riffs, and a revolting vocal delivery…seems like a good recipe. Now the dilemma: Everyone gives up after about 2:00. After this point, the track becomes a lesson in the problem with writing weird riffs just for the sake of trying to sound weird. It evolves into an ostentatious spectacle with no purpose or direction (much like the song title itself)…and from there everything deteriorates into an indulgent musical jerk-off session.
The album is split into two parts: “Side Death” and “Side Devil.” If this sounds as retarded to you as it does to me, I think we understand one another. However, if you’re a suburban, make-up wearing, black metal troll…and something entitled “Side Devil” intrigues you…by all means give this a spin.
Conclusion: All in all, this shit is as pretentious as Agalloch and as esoteric as Axis of Perdition. I’ll end with a lyric by head-larper “The Reaper” (with grammar intact): “I lean towards the smell of rotten testicles whilst balancing some nine planets. I concrete a leather if I scythe any Gold here – beyond. I dish an ocean of blood beside the Sun cooking it’s god’s favorite pancake.”
I know how you feel pal.