Mind of Flesh and Bones

DESPITE being at the very forefront of everything that is new and exciting within the realms of Industrial, Noise and Dark Wave, it’s always good to see Cold Spring release a classic album from the past. In terms of what is likely to appeal, this label seems to have a perpetual finger on the pulse and whilst this perceptive strategy worked beautifully with Laibach’s ‘Neu Konservatiw’ and all the Psychic TV reissues, it’s undoubtedly worked here again. Archon Satani – which is now sadly defunct - was formed by Tomas Petersson (Ordo Equilibrio) and Mikael Stravöstrand (Inanna) back in 1990, and this album was originally released on the Staalplaat label three years later. The CD insert is a double-sided sheet fronted by an imperial eagle set in streaming rays of two-tone brown and beige hues. Underneath the CD itself, on the other hand, is a black and white sketch depicting an odd assortment of human bone, each fused together in an inexplicable expression of the macabre. The five tracks on the album come without titles and are therefore part of one nameless whole. The first of these opens with a droning bell and mechanical rustling, like shunting trains at a railway depot. Whispering vocals can be detected in the background, their painful words offered up like ritualistic murmurs on the wind. These haunting incantations become harsher as the song goes on, with the unyielding electronics refusing to budge. Other drones enter the fray, popping in and out like woeful visitors to a ward of migraine sufferers. The second track crackles and rumbles with an ominous air of gloom. Passing shards of metal assail the left side of your head and silence reigns for a few seconds before the same thing happens again. The repetition is eventually broken by an erratic hammering, steel knuckles rapping at the door of your mind like a robotic bailiff with an eviction order. The metallic sounds become more shrill and diverse, crashing and screeching their way towards you like the red-hot death throes of British Steel at the smelting works from Hell. The third offering has an ululating hum drifting along for a few moments prior to being battered incessantly whilst disparate segments flood the intermittent second-to-second void with an aural violence of their own. The vocals reappear, this time as metallic entreaties caught in the ambient cacophony of sound. After six minutes or so, things begin to slow down a little and we are left with lengthy, satanic chants and the original hum. Track Four opens in a menacing, but comparatively minimalist fashion. Sweeping drones that resemble a lone spillage at a ball-bearing factory, recorded in slow motion and punctured by a devastating thud, each swing of the invisible hammer causing loose pieces of electronic masonry to tumble down in a heavy shower of iron filings. Meanwhile, the deep chanting, delivered in a world without throat lozenges, is sustained in a raw growl. The final track combines a light, electronic tinkle – which soon disappears – with the sound of an earthquake in a city populated by rattling exhaust pipes. The monotone voices remind me of Lustmord and Endura, their lyrical circumambulation locked in a dark genuflection of devilish proportions. This is the best track on the album, pretty experimental although slightly more accessible than the previous four. Layer upon layer of sculptured ambience is brought into the foreground before stepping back into the shadows as a new phase begins in its place. Clever stuff. And, once again, the intelligent use of both delay and silence are particularly effective when creating a timeless and unpredictable atmosphere. I really enjoyed listening to this album and shall return to it frequently. The fifth track alone makes it well worth the £12 asking price and comes highly recommended.