Kappe

This is Erik Skodvin's (one-half of Deaf Center) second full-length release for the Type label as Svarte Greiner. His debut Knive was a milestone in doom music. Taking a surprisingly acoustic route, he kick-started a sub-genre as he used cello, violin and rattling miscellanies to conjure up blood-curdling soundscapes.

Kappe continues Skodvin's blackened underworld cruise, furthering his mysterious, cinematic sound. Through incessant touring, Skodvin has built up a distinctive live technique since the release of Knive and it is this which works as a spirit guide on Kappe.

Traveling the dark corners of the world, Skodvin has explored every shadowed alleyway in his grasp, built up a collection of broken glove-puppets and potion-filled medicine bottles and trapped many a stifled scream in the process. Some of these disparate adventures were captured to cassette tape (Penpals Forever, Digitalis Limited) and wax disc (Til Seters, A Room Forever), but the most evil moments were set aside for this full-length album; four fated psalms in honor of the dark Northern lords.

The album's opener 'Tunnel of Love' may be the noisiest piece Skodvin has produced to date with a death-rattle of chains accompanying his patented maritime bass drone. It sounds something like Death's gondola gliding through purgatory, gradually building into a dense, chattering cloud of torment before dropping into bleak stillness.

Skodvin is joined by Ultralyd saxophonist Kjetil Møster who adds a disarmingly terrifying squeal to the horrifying detuned strings on 'Candle Light Dinner Actress.' The most startling change here is his incorporation of the electric guitar -- 'Mystery Man' sees Skodvin harness the feedback into loops of distressing, pained melancholy, bringing to mind Skullflower or a slow-motion Sonic Youth at times. Kappe, however, is very much its own beast, and followers will already know that nothing sounds quite like Svarte Greiner. You won't find a more unsettling record this winter.