The music of Necro Deathmort was made for vinyl. The doomy, distorted beats, the ponderous bass, the squelching synth – it is hard to listen to it, even using a crystal clear CD – without superimposing the gentle crackle and bump of quality vinyl over it, and so it is surprising that this is their first leap onto that dark, hypnotically spinning format. Responsible from some truly disturbing and utterly compelling music over the years (SonicAbuse proudly recalls reviewing both Music of bleak origin and The colonial script), Necro Deathmort have taken another step along the path of electronica, branching off from the colonial script and delving into twisted, dreamy soundscapes that draw upon over thirty years of pioneering work from across the music spectrum. Here you will find nods to the seventies when Dario Argento made horror movies that bled your brain white and John Carpenter composed his own film scores; here you will find nods to the eighties when acts like Men Without hats ruled the airwaves and Depeche Mode grew steadily darker until Dave Gahan became a victim of his own superstar projections; here you will find nods to the nineties when acts like Nine Inch Nails, Autachre and Aphex Twin plundered the music of their forebears into something sinister and otherworldly and sent it back out into the world blank eyed and misanthropic and here you will find echoes of more modern electronic music from the black-metal-turned-ambient nightmare of Ulver to the intricate patterns of f*** Buttons. In short, Necro Deathmort’s sound has now become a perfect fusion of all that has gone before and as you slowly sink into the warm abyss of EP1 time will gain an elastic quality that will see time flood past in bursts whilst you remain enraptured on the sofa.
The EP opens with ‘gatekeeper’, a soft groundswell of humming electrical noise that floods out of the speakers like the sun pouring across the mountaintops at dawn. It’s a lush, warm opener that is suddenly scarred across by the crunching industrial noise of ‘Titan’, a track that recalls the dirty remix of ‘closer’ (originally found on the now obscure ‘closer to god’ single) that graced the opening credits of the movie Seven. The beat is robotic, encased in chrome and gleaming wickedly in the light, the bass underneath not so much a throb as a series of echoing squelches that shift through disturbing noises that creak and groan like the rigging on an ancient ship. If NDM’s idea was to evoke in the listener an image of an ancient monolith, draped in ropes and salt-rotted wood, then they succeed admirably. ‘Probe’ segues straight out of this decaying edifice, at a faster pace, the higher pitch and twitchy percussion making the listener feel nervy and on edge, as if they’re being relentlessly pursued by something indefinable. The tension and pace is kept right up until the final moment when the chase ends and you’re plunged into the dark, velveteen underworld of ‘Kingdom’. Here you will find rich, devilish bass, swirling noise and oscillating frequencies that are as close to conventional techno as the band have ever come, albeit a techno awash with the sulphuric flames of Hades and corroded by a lifetime spent servicing the prancing demons of the night. It’s a cross between Orbital at their most intense (back when the Hartnoll brothers used to soundtrack Wipeout) and Aphex Twin and it helps to alleviate the appalling tension developed during the previous track.
Such reprieves never last long in the world of NDM, however, and following on from the comparatively polite ambience of ‘kingdom’ comes ‘Void’, the sound of a filthy prison cell dripping water from unmentionable sources as you lie in rags upon the floor. It’s a cavernous, echoing noise that the band produce, one that speaks of dungeons and acts of unspeakable cruelty and ‘scanner’, with its distorted probing, does little to dispel the darkness. Percussion phases in and out of consciousness and becomes increasingly distorted while ambience drifts in and out of the picture, pouring soothing balm on old wounds even as the increasingly agitated drums rent new ones in scarred flesh. It’s captivating, evocative, dark and threatening and it is the peak of NDM’s output to date, which, as followers of the band will be aware, is no small matter.
Released as a download or as an ultra-limited vinyl (just 333 copies) and with stunning artwork as ever (courtesy of Thomas Neulinger) EP1 is an important release in the evolution of the stunning Necro Deathmort. With a wider sonic palette to work from, a broader range of influences than ever and the confidence and imagination to create music that wholly swallows its audience, Necro Deathmort surely cannot remain in the underground for long. This is intelligent, dark and furiously inventive music that, by turns, enraptures and terrifies the listener. Always fascinating and never repetitive, Necro Deathmort have never been more essential than they here, on EP1.
Did we get it right? Check out this embedded player and decide for yourself…
