Death Throes Of A Burning Forest

There is a strange voluptuousness in watching something beautiful die. Witch Of Creation returns to ECHØVEIL Records with Death Throes Of A Burning Forest — a magnificent descent into drone-doom, black metal and ambient, wandering slowly and heavily through the incandescent entrails of a forest caught in its final hour. Everything burns here. But nothing seems entirely willing to disappear. The blaze is alive and ravenous, swift yet somehow suspended — tetanizing, sublime. Great walls of sound smoulder and breathe; guitars dissolve into scorched drones, distortion becomes weather, and the whole landscape seems caught somewhere between unbearable density and weightless apparition. Above it all hangs an infinite scarlet azure: the impossible sky beneath which dying things become beautiful simply because they are dying. Ash-ghosts wander through the filled void. Impossible fruits grow there too — swollen, fleshy things ripening from branches already reduced to charcoal. And somewhere inside this burning dream, terror and beauty cease to contradict one another. Death Throes Of A Burning Forest is heavy without ever becoming earthbound. Its mass floats. Its violence dreams. Its darkness glows from within. Everything remains suspended in that strange intermediary state where matter has begun to perish but has not yet understood that it is dead. A spiritual DRANO poured directly through the crown of the skull — melting the spinal marrow while somehow inseminating the eardrums with bruised, diaphanous dreams. Noise as purification. Doom as levitation. Black metal as the distant shriek of matter discovering its own impermanence. Nothing remains entirely solid. Only imprecise densities, incandescent wounds, charred reveries and the slow voluptuousness of extinction. The dreams of a midsummer night— set on fire. -Sir Kuliktavikt