immolation is in slow motion, and the fury is waning as the oxygen gradually leaves the atmosphere.
Limited edition of 500
r e v i e w s:
After the shrieking noise of Black Ice, you will think you've gone completely deaf as you attempt to locate the subtle rumblings which open the Shinjuku Thief portion of the black | mass trilogy. Entitled Matte Black, the cinematic portion of the set opens with a distant movement of magma, an inferred rumbling that you feel in the soles of your feet as if the sound was so heavy that it can't muster the energy to climb any higher than your big toe. "..In Time" gives way to the approaching seismic event of "..In Status," but the volcanic release hinted at by the gradual thunder of the subterranean rumbles approaches slowly. "..In Form" hints at steam vents, spots of escaping air that bubble with expressed steam, and "..In Line" begins to show signs of stress.
The whole record is a slow magma push, a sonic soundtrack for a time-lapse extrusion of molten rock.
The penultimate track, "..In Station," crackles with escaping energy and jetting steam as the surface finally starts to tear and splinter with the relentless force that has been pushing and expanding over the last thirty-five minutes. Matte Black is a long-form dark ambience piece of approaching oblivion. And, unexpectedly, it doesn't erupt. "..In Station" brings us right to the precipice and backs away, the fire draining back into the ground.
Why? Because, I think, ultimately this record is the final moment of the label, the last sound heard in a world gone dark. Promises, threats, hopes, expectations: they are all sealed away as the light and heat goes out. This is a record to disappear into, a record that you should let overwhelm you. Verhagen delicately spells it out in the liner notes: "in girunt imus nocte et consumimur igni." Matte Black won't blow you away with its massive final eruption; it will devastate you with the enormity of its restraint.
Mark Teppo - Igloo