Album Review: Abigor - Demos 1993 / 1994
Reviewed by Eric Clifford
Abigor. I’ve heard so florid an abundance of praise for them over the years that I feel somewhat inadequate admitting that this is the first time I’ve ever dived, lubricated and pliable, into any of their efforts. And perhaps this isn’t the warmest of shallows to dive into either – a mammoth collection of 5 of their early demo releases shoved together as one? How much low-fi tape hiss can one man take? Abigor aren’t generally considered within that kvltest of sub-sub-genres, the favourite of only the mustiest raccoon-visaged cave hermits, Raw Black Metal, but even so, these demos must surely qualify as at least honorary members. As such, I have decided to make this all needlessly complicated, and go demo by demo as they appear on the disk, for no other reason than that my ears are evil and must be punished.
Lux Devicta Est
When Lux Devicta Est isn’t dicking about, it rules. Unfortunately though, it is most content to spend frankly outlandish amounts of time pissing around. It boasts 2 outros for reasons beyond mortal comprehension, alongside an ambient spoken/croaked word interlude track. That’s a downright uncivilised amount of worthless horseshit in a 25 minute release, and as if that wasn’t enough, every other song (of which there are 3) also comes replete with some kooky bullshit intro that goes on entirely too long for it’s own good. “Saeculum Obscurum / Kingdom of Darkness” and “Finis Redemptionis / Crawl Back to Your Cross” are especially bad for this, both with introductory passages crawling on for minutes at a time until the song actually decides to move. This demo is suffused with worthless crap for at least a quarter of it’s cumulative runtime which saps it’s overall brilliance. It wouldn’t be so terrible if there was a sense of cogency to the introductions, but as it stands, “Saeculum Obscurum / Kingdom of Darkness” makes you sit through two of the fucking things for some reason, the first a snippet of outrageously pointless narration, then an awkward pause, only to lead into…drunken village gang warbling. It’s tedious beyond toleration, but hope lingers yet, for when “Lux Devicta Est” isn’t gleefully wasting your existence, the songs themselves, the actual meat of the release, are completely killer.
This is very early days yet for Abigor, but even so there are flickerings of a formidable, if inchoate, force within Black Metal here. For one thing, the drumming is magnificent. Fast, precise, greased lightening on the fills, sneaking them in with venomous intent. Guitar parts and melodies stack, coiling and meshing like garotte wire; there’s a sophistication to the writing that hints at the rationale behind why this band’s name is whispered of on snowy mountain peaks with hushed reverence. The riffs are lethal, from the hypnotic, almost meditative qualities of “Filii Septemtrionium / Diabolic Unity” (somewhat reminiscent of the balmy blasphemies of early Rotting Christ) to the way that “Saeculum Obscurum / Kingdom of Darkness” launches with devilish glee between crushing mid-tempo Darkthrone worship to bloodless reptilian tremolo sections. Obviously, it’s an abrasive listen in production terms, but there’s a stark difference between “raw” and “shit” production, even if the suspicion of synonymity flits betwixt the two. “Lux Devitica Est”, while inarguably a nasty, jagged listen, boasts clarity on every instrument from the drums to the delightfully prominent bass. Audiophiles may dissolve in it’s presence like nazis opening the ark of the covenant, but fire and damnation if I wouldn’t die smiling to hear every black metal album sounding this righteous.
This one, then, is scatterbrained and commonly exasperating to an extent that began to feel vaguely personal at points, but it contains within it the promise of greater things. It merits repeat listens irrespective of my obligations to it as a reviewer, but I can’t pretend that it wouldn’t be vastly improved by excising the mass of filler it bears around like a fucking tumour.
Promo Tape 2/94
This one immediately starts off on the right foot by dropping a perma-classic by the name of “Eye to Eye at Armageddon”. Even in this more ornate, textured arrangement backed by grandiose synth organs, it’s simply masterful - a sublime mixture of stately melody and raw, vengeful fury; the lacerating metamorphosis it undergoes at 1:18 as a frigid siege of blastbleats atomises you with the cold weight of ice calving is delectable to a nipple-stiffening extent. There’s an inventive technical knack to Abigor’s work that speaks to their individuality even as the band is barely weeks weaned from the teat. As a rueful counterpoint, the other songs are humdrum, and not purely by comparison with “Eye to Eye...” either - even absorbed in isolation these tracks have their charms but fail to impress in the main. One - “Abysmal Scorn” - being the sort of plodding melancholic noodling that might form a sedate intermission between tracks on a full length while the next (“Other Truth”) features a semblance of meat on it’s frame but is nonetheless brief and underdeveloped, feeling more like a dry run for something more expansive and evolved than a full song in it’s own right.
Ultimately this promo tape is worthy of your attention for the sakes of “Eye to Eye...” but the subsequent tracks have little to offer. You might at this point be seeing a pattern emerge, one of Sterling material keelhauled by unbecoming mediocrity, and while this isn’t the last time that little snag will peer sleazily under the toilet door, promo tape 2 can at least lay claim to one brilliant song at bare minimum. Abigor’s powers, while manifesting within the diaphanous ether of this frail mortal coil, are yet held in reserve.
Ash Nazg
Ash Nazg holds an inglorious 27% as a score on metal archives at the time of writing, which is a befuddling circumstance because personally I think it kills. It’s 3 tracks long, one of which is a thankfully ephemeral intro, after which two tracks of blistering raw blackness await our delectation. It’s notable as much as anything for being Abigor’s first release, and I’ll see not a whit of mockery nor dismissal lobbed it’s way; warts n’ all, Ash Nazg slays.
I’m not oblivious to it’s failings; “In Sin” in particular switches between some of it’s sections very abruptly in graceless fashion – hark! the 2:14 mark draws near, wherein the song stops, bumbles back to life at 2:15, stops again at 2:45, then farts itself awake once more at 2:46. Jarring to say the least. And while I’ll admit on my part to a pitiful adherence to the raw=best school of thought on black metal production, particular sections of these songs do blend into an unlovely white noise mush. Even so, these songs sprint all the way from Austria to deliver only the most rambunctious of ass kickings. “In Sin” is a defiling blight of a song in terms of its constituent parts, it’s last minute or so an ugly, frantic cacophony of screams and buzzsaw distortion. “Shadowlord” applies a more triumphal, imperial mien. Sent sprinting by an Austrian angel dust fuelled kick, snare, kick-kick snare classic metal beat played with demonic zeal, the song contorts through tempos with so much more agility than Ash Nazg’s rendition of “In Sin” ever did. It even lets slip some putrid death metal riffage at 3:12 – I love this track so much I want to fuck the disk. I can understand taking umbrage at the lo-fi production but when your initial forays into metaldom at large contain a song of this potency I maintain my mystification at the paltry 27% it lingers with on metal archives.
A last thing: the sequencing on this compilation does perplex me almost as much as the underrating this demo itself received; it being the debut one would assume it to be a prime candidate for the first demo on the disk, instead it finds itself relegated to 3rd in line for reasons I will baselessly assume to be related to unrestrained glue inhalation binges. Ah well, I’ll not hold misgivings – so far as opening salvos are concerned, Ash Nazg rules, irrespective of it’s disappointing reception elsewhere.
Moonrise
Let it be known from sea to shining sea that Moonrise is the fucking tits. It has an introduction, which is a disposable but ultimately forgivable annoyance of less than a minute in length. I’d rather it didn’t exist, though the good lord saw fit to bless mankind with a skip button for a reason I suppose. With that said, a certain magnanimity comes mandated for moonrise, for it contains 2 other songs – “Universe of Black Divine” and “My Soft Vision in Blood”. In case you didn’t know, that’s a very good thing, because both those tracks are fucking phenomenal.
Of the two I think I prefer “My Soft Vision in Blood”, but that’s like choosing which testicle I prefer. Both are superlative, but “My Soft Vision…” has those majestic opening passages, stirring lead lines over droning doom chords, leading into a faster section that seems to take off on crusade against the heavens before settling into a dreamy midpaced soundscape for the remainder of the song that might threaten to tire a touch were it not for the stupendous percussion that twirls and cavorts, punctuating every second with tasteful, uplifting flair. Multiple guitars cascade through and around each other, building dense, towering walls of complimentary melodies that sweep and glide throughout the track. It’s beautiful, and as immediately engaging through pure infectiousness alone as it is deep enough to reward repeat engagement.
About the only thing I view askance with a mild distaste is the steady disappearance of the bass. Ash Nazg and Lux Devicta Est both had, to their general credit, readily audible bass guitars. It’s black metal, fine, a genre that hasn’t always lavished the low end with the same loving diligence as it has the topmost registers. But even so, some good thick bass to give the material the bulk it deserves is sorely missing in action. I’m not demanding Victor Wootten show up and turn Abigor into the fucking Commodores, but shit, give me something because at present I’ve seen hemicorporectomy patients with more bottom end than this. But I could wax hyperbolic for all my allotted fourscore and ten; I feel obliged to say something mean purely for the sake of maintaining some vague semblance of critical integrity. The key thing to draw from this is that Moonrise is killer and you should indulge in it’s satanic symphonies posthaste.
In Hate and Sin
We’ve sampled the last of the original material; what In Hate and Sin instead presents us with is re-recordings of the bulk of the material from the prior demos. Would it surprise you to know that it’s fantastic? It does away with the tawdry introductions and interludes that have plagued their earlier demos in favour of a lean, all killer no filler approach that maximises their strengths while paring away the diversionary bullshit that’s hitherto been something of a feature. I’ve written about most of these tracks already; I’ll not repeat myself, though it would be fair to say that some tracks are superior in their original renditions – “My Soft Vision in Blood” is a sempiternal black metal classic, but I prefer the version on Moonrise for it’s slow fade in with the backing chords – the “In Hate and Sin” version kicks off solely with the drums and lead section, which for me lacks the imposing grandeur of the Moonrise rendition. But there’s little to complain about otherwise – to this point in the band’s history, In Hate and Sin represents the most comprehensive encapsulation of their powers. Undiluted by the earlier predilection for soporific, clumsy introductions and filler tracks, the songs shine with charring brightness. About the only other criticism I would sling their way is the lack of bass, akin to my earlier woes with Moonrise. The production – if it could be called that - still has that serrated raw edge, but the bass that was so prominent on, say Lux Devicta Est, is notable in its absence. Other than that, this demo is by far the strongest set of songs in this collection and sits nobly as the crown jewel as a result.
The main reason to procure this would be to see how Abigor developed as a band. They would go on to re-record almost every song here (excepting the intermission and introductory bits) for their debut full length, “Verwustung / Invoke the Dark Age”, meaning that the bulk of this material exists in refined, cohesive form elsewhere. Obviously it’s possible to prefer one version or another of a song, or this or that particular set of production idiosyncrasies, so if you’re interested in black metal this is certainly worth a look. It’s not essential, but it does form an interesting glimpse into Abigor’s formative years and provides all the motivation I could’ve asked for to devour this band’s back catalogue with ravenous alacrity.
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