Yet again it’s been brought to our attention that Fenriz is still cut up about Antihumanism.com’s strong criticism of “new” Darkthrone.

In the official Darkthrone myspace blog, he says:

anyone remember that lowlife who took a month of his spare time just to make a FAKE dakthrone mini-site with fake album cover and fake songs? well, let’s just say if I was like that guy, I understand why he is ANTI-HUMAN, HAHAHAHA!!

Official Darkthrone myspace blog

Fenriz mate, it took about 5 minutes all in all. If I remember correctly, the guy who made the “fake” song (though it was at least as “good” as your current ”official” material) spent less than an hour making it.

It seems that you’re still pissed at us because so many people thought our parody was REAL (the thread at the Nuclear War Now forum was especially hilarious before it was deleted) and that must have really hurt your ego…

Someone was telling me the other day how “great” the death metal band Morbid from Sweden were. Of course everyone knows about them and has probably heard their “December Moon” demo. This is because the infamous and revered Dead performed the vocals and possibly, at a push, because it features soon-to-be members of Entombed.

But Morbid, even on this “cult classic” recording are far too “rock” oriented, too simplistic to be a great band (or even to really show hints of being one), despite the easy charm of the songs and the mostly excellent and unearthly vocal performance of Mr Dead. Indeed, Ohlin was recruited into Mayhem on the strength of his performance here, as Attila later would be from his work on Tormentor’s “Anno Domini”. It was apparent that the obvious talents of Dead would be better utilised elsewhere.

Later Morbid material (after Dead left) moved further in this rock driven direction, and Entombed would eventually move even further into good old rock ‘n’ roll before being consumed by it utterly.

So ultimately we’re left with a decent(ish) and somehow quaintly enjoyable but otherwise totally forgettable recording, made famous and selling many copies merely by virtue of the iconic status of one of its more talented contributors.

And then there’s Burzum’s new album, “Belus”.

A lot has already been written and said about Vikernes’ comeback album and without exception it all comes back to his previous, undisputed classic albums of the black metal genre, the likes of “Det Som Engang Var” and ”Hvis Lyset Tar Oss”.

Without doubt, Vikernes is an iconic leading figure in black metal and the monumental status that Burzum maintains within underground metal means that any new work he creates, especially after a gap of many years, will cause angry and heated debate as to its merits, or lack of.

Now let’s be brutally honest, “Belus” isn’t great. It’s barely even good. It certainly isn’t the equal of any of the previous albums (no, not even the ambient works, you philistines).

Let’s also get something straight, I really wanted to like this album. At a time when almost nothing of real quality is released anymore, I desperately wanted this album to be something special, for it to have the almost magical power of being able to transport the listener to fantastic realms of imagination, to take you on a mysterious journey of unexpected discoveries as the music gradually unravelled.

All that I found in “Det Som Engang Var”. It was only with a reluctant, grudging realisation that I found this was not the case with “Belus”. As much as I wanted to love this new album, I couldn’t find it in myself to pretend that it’s somehow as good or even better than his previous works. 

For a band like Taake, whose music verges on the sweetly fluid emo-melodious side of black metal, “Belus” would be a good album. For any band playing what people mockingly call norsecore, “Belus” would be a good album. And when I say “good”, I only mean in terms relative to the bands in question.

But when we talk about Burzum, listening to “Belus” is a bit like opening a fine bottle of a good vintage champagne and finding it filled with cheap lemonade. And no amount of self-delusion on the part of disappointed fans can hide that.

Does a Morrissey shit in the woods? Why yes, yes he does, at least according to the newly unveiled album cover for lame singles compilation cash-in “Swords” (Polydor). That’s right, another collection of sub-par songs, this time B sides from recentish singles, as if the A sides were any bloody good in the first place.

Still trading on his iconic 1980’s status as indie rock legend with The Smiths (“indie” as a term was intended to denote the independent nature of the record label upon which an artist was signed, not a genre of music kids), the hilariously misjudged photo that will adorn the as yet unreleased album seems to suggest that the quiff-haired crooning moaner has just taken, or is perhaps about to take, a large dump. In his expensive vintage jeans.

Look at that straining face. There’s some serious pushing going on there, and as a militant vegetarian (Meat is Murder, remember) let’s face it, when it does finally drop, it’s not going to be pleasant is it? And why the hell he hasn’t dropped his pants to clear the way for his steaming Anglo-Irish turd isn’t clear, unless perhaps he has a fetish for self-shitting.

Or, maybe I’ve misread this. Morrissey is known for writing songs about the exploits of various criminals (the Krays, the Moors Murderers etc), perhaps this image is in tribute to the infamous Green River killer, Gary Ridgway, who dumped his strangulated victims in remote woodland.

Is the past-it proto-emo squatting down as he inserts a rock into a dead prostitute’s vagina? Or regaining his breath after a nasty necrophiliac rigor mortis sex sesh? Whatever the explanation for the bizarre photo, Morrissey himself issued the following statement via his manager:

“As usual, everyone hates me. I love that photo and am quite unconcerned by any negative reaction, I’m quite used to it, believe me. But it hurts sometimes. Oh the pain of it! Well, laugh all you like, I will be, all the way to the bank! Now, if only someone would love me. For ME.”  

It’s traditional to write articles about the likes of Morrissey using various lyrics and making puns from his song titles, however, I’ve decided to close with two recent witty and quintessentially Moz quotes from the past week:

“I can smell burning flesh, I hope to god it’s human.”
Uttered to the crowd at a gig last week before storming off stage in protest at someone cooking meat backstage.

“This charming man…cough cough, shit I can’t breathe. Aaaaaaaaggggggghhhh.”
Uttered to the crowd at a gig last night before falling to his knees unconscious and being rushed to hospital. He should consider himself very fortunate he didn’t die, it just would not do to have died in Swindon Leisure Centre. That would have been vulgar in the extreme!

NEXT WEEK: Morrissey takes a piss up against a lamppost for front cover of C side single compilation, “Whores” (Polydor), then collapses and dies at Grimsby Conservative Club.

It was a cold, misty morning, and Johan Lahger entered his dark and mouldy woodland bedroom deep within the depths of somewhere or other in Sweden.

He turned his moss-covered laptop on and plucked his New York Yankees baseball cap from his head. On a shelf above his desk, next to a radio controlled Dalek toy, lay his legendary troll mask, buried beneath almost 10 years of dust.

In the blue green glare of the Microsoft Windows logo, Johan reverently lifted the garishly painted papier-mache mask and attached it to his grinning face. Johan had magickally transformed into his infamous stage persona. He was once again the almighty SHAMAATAE!!!

“Fuck, the elastic’s really tight, I must have put on weight” he muttered as finally he logged on, scratching thoughtfully at his crotch.

Ding!  Aha, an email had arrived! Shamaatae (for it was he) clicked on the icon and read with impatience the typo-ridden news from his record label. The artwork for Arckanum’s comeback album, “ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ” was ready at last. Excellent! He quickly downloaded the image files, the Great God Pan helping them speed through the okkultik broadband in a digital dance of flowing 0’s and 1’s.

“What the flying FUCK!??!!!?!!” Shamaatae gasped as he gazed upon the projected front cover of his forthcoming album. Instead of eleven Þ runes invoking some kind of mysticness, a crudely photoshopped line of plain old alphabet “p’s” had been hastily pasted across the bottom of the cover.

The woodland troll grabbed his i-phone and immediately rang the label boss.

“Hell-o? Johan?” came the cheery answer.

“It’s Shamaatae actually, I’ve got the mask on. I’ve just received your email with the cover art…”

“What d’you think? Looks good eh?”

The troll huffed. “No it bloody well does NOT. You’ve totally fucked up. I wanted a little line of RUNES for the album title, you’ve just put a load of sodding p’s on there!”

“Yeah I had some trouble with that, I don’t really know how to type runes. It took me 6 years to find out how to do umlauts for christ’s sake. I thought using p’s was a good compromise.”

“But those fucking little p’s don’t have any occult significance you fuckhead! What mystic relevance do a line of p’s add up to? It looks like something from Sesame Street!”

“Look I’m sorry alright? How about I just remove the lettering altogether? It’ll look better like that, I promise. Okay?”

“Okay. Good then,” sulked the mighty troll.

“Just one other thing. The CD pressing plant called this morning. They’re not able to spread the tracks over 11 CDs like you wanted…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!!!! I knew I should have gone with Osmose! Those guys have custom keyboards with “666” keys so you don’t even need to press “6” three times! AND they know how to do runes AND sodding umlauts too!”  

Shamaatae hung up and threw his i-phone across the desk.

Snap! The elastic holding the troll mask onto Johan’s face snapped and Shamaatae fell lifeless to the floor. The raging troll had turned back into mild-mannered Johan once more.

“Bollocks, the sun’s come up” observed Johan ruefully as Shamaatae’s grotesque features grimaced up at him.

“Oh well,” Johan sighed as he reached up, carefully pulling another rubber mask down from his shelf, “I’ve still got you Ronald.”

He attached the rubber, factorymade mask to his face and squinted through the eyeholes into an ornate trollish mirror. Ronald McDonald stared back.

“I’ve gots me some hamburgling to be a foilin’!”

Yep, exclusive to Antihumanism.com, we’ve got the skinny on Darkthrone’s new audio turd.

See below for a full track from their new album, “Total Deaf” (uploaded to youtube for convenience and so you won’t have this crap saved onto your hard drive).

Tracklisting:

1. No feelings (no ideas)
2. Nostalgic nerd
3. Rehashed trash
4. Mailsorting post office punks
5. Park benches and cheap slags
6. Fuck Off and Buy
7. Total contempt, norse norse norse

Lyric excerpt:

“No Feelings (No Ideas)” from the album “Total Deaf” (Peaceville 2009)

No feelings inhabit my dark soul
No feelings, just Rock ’n’ Roll
I can’t think of anything to say
But I’ll fucking say it anyway
…
No feelings
Dead inside
No feelings
Like I died
No feelings
Hide the tears
No feelings
No ideas

Thanks to Cargést