 Akercocke
are a bunch of English dandies- with pocket watches and wainscots, the
whole ‘cheerio’ bit- who just happen to wile their time away from crumpets
and polo by worshipping Satan and playing the most unholy black metal
imaginable. Unlike their million dollar brethren in Cradle of Filth,
Akercocke appear to take their Satanic philosophies with utter
seriousness, which is both absurd and enthralling. It enthralls because
the clammy grip of unrelenting, merciless evil grabs you by the neck right
from the unnerving intro and straight into Choronzon's
demonic set-pieces like the caterwauling goth-metal aria “Leviathan”
or the galloping, Slayer-esque black thrash of “Scapegoat”. It’s
absurd because, well… “Valley of the Crucified”? Of course, I may
just not be enlightened. Perhaps the luxury cars Akercocke ride around in
and the supermodels they cavort with are all gifts from the be-horned one
for properly praising him with their signature brand of Schizophrenic
devilnoise- if so, I say jump on whatever terror train these dreadnoughts
are steering and ride it all the way to the Abyss, because if this is what
Hell sounds like, I reckon it’s worth the heat. It is quite difficult to
point out what happens where on this album, since the CD player registers
99 tracks, and the back of the record only 15, but no matter. It’s not
like this is a singles driven band. Analysis seems like a pussy Christian
concept when it comes to these cats, anyway. You simply press play, strip
naked, kill a chicken, and get the fuck down. And when you do, you will
hear many early BM influences in Akercocke’s sound- Hellhammer,
Venom, Possessed- as well as a veritable bastion of
off-center weirdness, nauseous moments of calm and shrill sounds of
distress that flow through the tracks like trickles of blood. It’s all
quite affecting, and all rather stunning. I don’t think you even have to
like black metal to dig this band. You just have to like the devil. |