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- Freermasonry by Wold
2 reviews. Add your own review.
My mate turned me onto these guys a few years back and I’ve been hooked ever since. They are absolutely incredible, plus the band members have great names - Fortress Crookedjaw is always a talking point. Now they’re often labelled as a black metal band and I suppose they are to an extent, what with the deranged throat wrecking demonic vocals and the imagery used in their artwork. They probably think Christianity is boring and dig some occult shit. However I don’t think the music is all that metal, it’s full on speaker shredding noise / electronics. If like myself you dig a bit of yee olde racket but get tired of black metal politics and warbling on about middle earth and orcs and all that, then if you’ve not checked out Saskatchewan’s best kept secret then get on the case pronto. Even if you don’t care for black metal, purely on a sonic level these guys are the absolute business; totally weird crushing and alienated sounding. I’m not interested in any ideology here, just sonic oblivion. The majority of their output is on the Profound Lore label and this is their most recent beast from 2011 given a most welcome 2LP release on Stephen O’Malley’s Ideologic Organ.
Most folk would find this pretty hideous but I find the enormous penetrating walls of sound somehow relaxing and I’m not just saying that to be a smart arse. The vocals are so wildly unhinged it’s difficult not to contain the odd chuckle. They’re certainly a unique unit and this is a cracker of an album and hopefully the first in their catalogue to see the light of day on vinyl. Crank it up for maximum catharsis. Can’t recommend this one enough. Check the mesmerizing loops on ‘Working Tools For Praxis’. Bloody immense is what it is - A right head twatter!
10/10 Brian Customer review, 3rd May 2013
I stumbled off the bus in Keighley, West Yorkshire, the other week at teatime in a distracted state of near delirium and confusion with, co-incidentally, this very album on real loud through some battered headphones, me probably looking like the total backwoods(wards) weirdo I actually am. The reason I had willfully subjected myself to Wold at such volume (other than the fact Ant had loaded my MP3 ages ago with countless boss weird shit - 5 albums by these guys at least - and I love scrolling in reverse) was that some sleazy looking local twat had begun laboriously reading out passages from the Daily Star detailing the "fake" Micheal Jackson scandal and simultaneous JLS split horror to his equally knuckle-headed slack-jawed associate. It wasn't his reading manner so much, more the fact I suspected he was actually "the competent reader" of the two. So tormented was I by this moron and his plodding dullardry, that the sound of Chucky from Child's Play intoning satanically over some evil lo-fi electronic sludge rapidly became tantamount to hearing, say, Die Kreuzen blasting out during a particularly unbearable episode of the X-Factor and drowning out Simon Smugwell and his cow-like existence. IE cold, hard justice of the highest order. The unnerved face of the woman behind the counter at the station newsagents as I removed the speakers from my clammy ears to innocently purchase a bottle of lucozade is an image I shall gladly take to the grave. Cheers Ant, for the memories and the amazing sounds x
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