AGGRESSIVE MUTILATOR, Skull Torture (2012, demo)

The skull:
Sure, it looks like a skull on a stake, but look closer at that alleged pike: doesn’t it look a lot like these? And if that’s just a concrete nail, then this skull is incredibly tiny. I think the artiste who crafted this fine piece of art just pulled the skeleton out of his aquarium and popped the skull onto a nail for his model. I suppose that constitutes torture of a sort. Or maybe it’s the most horrifying torture you can subject a skull to, rendering him badly for a shitty demo. “Tell me everything I wish to know, aquarium skull!” “You can’t break me! I’ll never talk!” “Very well. Then it won’t bother you at all if I submit this crudely sketched likeness to a bunch of Swedish posers for their old school black metal demo.” “You wouldn’t!” “I would, mister skull, and if you don’t start cooperating, the next drawing is going to a death metal band in Ecuador.” “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

The music:
This plays a little like a parody of the first Bathory album, with songs built on braindead Venom-style riffs (like, two per song), croaky frogman vocals, and lyrics that would have been too dumb for Tom Angelripper circa 1982. I can’t imagine a person who would like this demo and also enjoy the humor of Big Dumb Skulls, but on the off chance you listen to this kind of thing ironically, well, bust out your mustache wax because it’s going to be an event to remember.
— Friar Johnsen


DARK DEVOTION, Rehearsal 2009 (2009, demo)

The skull:
Wary be, ye hirsute skulls whose mangy locks dangle from thy rotting domes, lest thy foetid tresses become entangled admidst the stalagmites upthrust from the deep recesses in which ye dwell, and ye be pulled down and indeed impaled thereon. Thy graven stars, powerful though they ordinarily be, shall afford thee no protection from such odious entrapment, and long may ye tarry against thy wills in these lowly places. Thy dark devotion in such times shall verily be tested sore.

The music:
Only ten copies of this rehearsal demo were released, and naturally, I am one of the damned souls who owns one. After hearing the merest rumors of their 2008 opus #08, I decamped to Ciudad Victoria in Mexico, where I made nightly rounds of the town’s cemetaries. One fateful evening, I caught a glimpse of a ghoulishly painted man making blasphemous entreaties among the fog-wreathed sepulchers, and I followed him thereafter to discover his lair. I patiently surveilled the location until such a time as he welcomed several other corpselike persons into his company, and then from the bowels of that foreboding place, I heard the sinister strains of the most unholy black metal. I laid a freshly severed goat head before their threshold and hid myself, knowing they would find my offering. This ritual I repeated for 13 nights, and on the following evening, which was indeed marked by a full moon, the band did not gather at their black conventicle (having no doubt more sinister affairs to attend to elsewhere), but on the spot where nightly I left my grim sacrifice, a starkly illustrated CDR was left. I ran with this gift back to my meager lodgings and immediately inserted it into the player, whereby I was assaulted by the shittiest, most cliche black metal imaginable, and I realized how truly I had wasted my time for the better part of two months.
— Friar Johnsen