Rape Of The Bastard Nazerene - Akercocke

This debut release from the eternally besuited, well-groomed and well-mannered London gents who are nevertheless clearly going to Hell (if they really do believe all this stuff), fails to shake off the sense of being a slightly overlong demo tape. By slightly I mean it comes in at a still meagre thirty-five minutes rather than twenty-five, and by demo I mean unpolished, raw-sounding compositions connected by worthless interludes in a deceptive attempt ...
...good news is that the dingy world of black metal is perfectly suited to just this type of raw performance, many bands bizarrely sounding far more palatable when stripped down to a thin, fuzzy sound than when subjected to the infernal mechanisms of a high-budget studio, and Akercocke's violent, mournful and disturbed sound doesn't suffer one bit from this primitive, tomb-like atmosphere, though it also fails to use it to any real advantage in evoking ... more

This debut release from the eternally besuited, well-groomed and well-mannered London gents who are nevertheless clearly going to Hell (if they really do believe all this stuff), fails to shake off the sense of being a slightly overlong demo tape. By slightly I mean it comes in at a still meagre thirty-five minutes rather than twenty-five, and by demo I mean unpolished, raw-sounding compositions connected by worthless interludes in a deceptive attempt to bulk out the track-list to something approaching ten. The good news is that the dingy world of black metal is perfectly suited to just this type of raw performance, many bands bizarrely sounding far more palatable when stripped down to a thin, fuzzy sound than when subjected to the infernal mechanisms of a high-budget studio, and Akercocke's violent, mournful and disturbed sound doesn't suffer one bit from this primitive, tomb-like atmosphere, though it also fails to use it to any real advantage in evoking eeriness.

The low production values will likely ward off cautious listeners - you know, the ones who haven't already been scared away by the obscenity and suggestiveness of the title and artwork or the rude word skilfully secreted inside the band name - but the musicians are fortunately on top form, their skill being audible and wholly enjoyable despite a lack of extra force in the mix. Both guitars can be distinctly heard, and play off against each other nicely on occasion, handled by Paul Scanlan and Jason Mendonça, who also provides an impressive range of vocals from the standard low grunt of brutal death metal (Cannibal Corpse, Mortician) to very effective incorporation of harrowed, breathy clean vocals in tracks two and nine; a really piercing yell in track three that puts contemporaries Cradle of Filth to shame; a forceful yell in track ten, and an extended performance in a softer, gothic style for the excellent fifth track. Peter Theobald's bass is fleshed out by the thin production and provides distinct rhythms for all songs while the guitars mess around with solos, and the drums of David Gray (no, not that one. That would be funny though) range from full-pelt blast beats to more relaxed, catchy rhythms in the more atmospheric songs and interludes. The line-up lacks a keyboard player at this point, another factor serving to make this album unique, but prominent samples of voices and atmospheric or mechanical sound effects are still employed on about half of the tracks.

The album begins with a clichéd forsaking of God and invocation of Satan that's so short as to be on the verge of skip-worthy, the first of many wastes of time here, but the rest of the album avoids falling into the tedious territory of mere Satan worship for shock's sake, offering a mix of emotive and often downright strange pleas and accounts that are more often than not tinged with sexuality and overflowing with evil, though not in an overtly disgusting, Cannibal Corpse way. The band's genre has provided a source of debate as far back as their previous incarnation as Salem Orchid, with some insisting on black metal, others going for death metal, and most agreeing to place a slash mark in the middle and accept it as a combination of both. On this first album the seams are a little more evident, with some tracks falling slightly more obviously into each respective camps and others slipping off the scale entirely. It's not that unusual, not even that good from a critical perspective, but it's interesting.

1. Declaration
2. Hell
3. Nadja
4. The Goat
5. Marguerite and Gretchen
6. Sephiroth Rising
7. Zuleika
8. Conjuration
9. Il Giardino Di Monte Oliveto Maggiore
10. Justine
66. The Blood

From the daft 'Declaration' where some well-spoken girls renounce God in a manner that I can't help finding slightly alluring (I'm a sucker for the accent, as opposed to the message), the album lets rip with a couple of fast songs in the black/death style, the former being slightly more attuned to black metal in its harsh, treble-heavy guitars and reliance on gimmicky effects, and the second being more in line with traditional death with its hammering drums, heavy breakdowns and guitars that sound like they're scraping against the roof of a coffin. This is also the first taste of a squealy, discordant guitar solo, which the gentlemen improve upon significantly with later tracks. Unfortunately, just as things are getting interesting, the listener is forced to contend with the first of three tedious and entirely worthless interlude tracks, this one using cheap horror sound effects and crunchy static in a pale imitation of Ulver's scary intro to their classic 'Een Stemme Locker' that has been more recently ripped off by Agalloch numerous times. The problem with Akercocke's eerie interludes here is that none of them really sound eerie in any way, the sound effects never convincing of the evil presence that haunts similar compositions from the likes of Behemoth and Burzum, and most often (as is the case with tracks six and sixty-six), sounding more like someone scrolling through the sound effects from a 'Sonic the Hedgehog' game.

Ignoring this second pointless bridge between them, 'Marguerite and Gretchen' and 'Zuleika' represent the peak of the album, the first seeing the band's gothic romantic side come to the fore with a style initially reminiscent of Eighties goth, including the catchy, repetitive drum beat, deep vocals and repeated guitar hook, but inevitably collapsing back into a black metal cacoffiny for the energetic conclusion. The lyrics are expectedly lovelorn in a slightly twisted way as Mendonça divulges the pleasure he experiences, as "I inhale the sweetness of the innocence I destroy," and there's even a nice female presence in the form of a soprano who sings sweet, wordless nothings in the more pleasant sections. It's a nicely confused song, and probably this album's main selling point. 'Zuleika' is very different, opting for a straightforward death metal direction in the classic style, with the tale of insatiable lust communicated solely through indecipherable grunts, and guitars spewing solos like so much spilled blood. The poor production may prevent it from attaining the head-crushing ferocity of higher budget extreme metal acts, but there's enough sheer force as each section leaps with increasing ferocity to the next that this really doesn't become an issue. You can tell the subject matter is angrier because there's a strong swear word in the lyrics, as well as some lines that are just plain weird: "I could almost believe in Allah for your sake."

Ignoring the chanted 'Conjuration' is the only reasonable course of action to proceed to the final two impressive songs, disappointingly only the fifth and sixth if scrutinising the album from a value-for-money angle that it really doesn't stand up to, and the style returns to that of the openers. 'Il Giardino Di Monte Oliveto Maggiore' is enjoyable, boasting a great main riff and cool, creepy singing that sounds disconcertingly uncertain of itself, but it becomes quite clear at this point that the band has effectively run out of ideas, presumably the reason behind half of this album being made up of half-hearted filler. 'Justine' is even more irritating as the finale, taking over a minute of white noise to get started (and nearly as long to conclude), and once again resorting to ineffective samples to needlessly bulk out the sound, though it has to be said that there are some really good lead guitars in this one. As a final treat - or more likely, an attempt to add yet more deceptive value to this limited release by adding some minutes to the counter - there are fifty-five tracks of brief silence before a final bonus track comes in and subjects the listener to a few more rubbish Sonic sound effects. The most pathetic thing of all is, there isn't even anything nasty about the number 66; the band clearly intended it as a sort of joke or clever point concerning the supposed number of the beast, which is actually six hundred greater, but as CD players are only programmed to read up to 99 tracks the joke falls flat on its stupid Satanic face.

Akercocke would go on to release some of the more refined and interesting albums in British extreme metal, but this debut is best avoided unless you go in for the ambient experience of frequent interludes and don't mind them being considerably sub-standard. There are a few decent songs on here, but it's the fact that there are so few that's the problem; stemming from a previous band formed seven years earlier, you'd think these gentlemen would have amassed more material by 1999, but alas, they were probably preoccupied at the tailor's or the masque or something. 

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