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from the depths of haron
cold spring   2002
  see also
"far beyond, before the time"
cold spring homepage
kerovnian homepage

album rating: 2

submitted by jc smith on 13-Aug-2002
The first Kerovnian release, From Beyond, Before The Time is, unquestioningly, one of the most purely black sonic excursions this listener has ever heard. A classic so drenched in the filthy sewers of dread as to shatter souls and wither bones upon aural contact. From The Depths Of Haron continues the bleakest of descents, expanding and shifting the blackness into the mind: at times, an eerie dreamlike quality coddles one's perceptions. The enclosed booklet evokes a river of riddles better yet to perplex and puzzle in most complimentary ways, giving the stark sounds an illusory foundation. The most dreamlike track, Let Yourself To Float/To The Flute Of Death, incorporates brittle female vocals like blown glass about to crack, amidst keyboards that suggest melody (only a suggestion though), and a wind that seems to swirl up from a fathomless abyss. A dull heartbeat rhythm thumps lonely in the back. It is a dream of unease, where shadows venture into view, without evaporating upon discovery - shadows of illegitimate origin, and questionable intentions. Dripping In The Form Of Styx leads one into a blasted cavern, enveloping the listener/ill-fated traveler in tones that weaken the spirit; something mysterious drips (tears? blood? the intangible essence of soul?), amidst a wind that caresses with oppressive pleasure, and keyboards that swell with the intonations of drained hopelessness. The atmosphere suffocates while it stretches. Morgue Of Human Sanity opens with vocals like squished icy tendrils. Afterwards, the masterful Kerovnian dread (nobody has a grasp of the complete emptiness of existence that Kerovnian celebrates) takes hold of the listener, as bells echo in retreat, and garbled voices sprinkle sweet nothings over the hollow landscape. The Shadows Were Unmade exquisitely gives sentience to the unimagined (the shadows of illegitimate origin mentioned above?), as whispering voices breathe life into throaty incantations of utterance and gurgle. Moaning lamentations grow choral, there is no joy in living, why be unmade for this futile folly?! Kerovnian conjures the most desolate of atmospheres better than most anybody else out there. Highly recommended!

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