Keepers

There’s a companion I haven’t properly introduced yet. It screams, growls, bleeds all over the place—and gives the silence in my head something louder to compete with.

This review wasn't planned. It started with a photobook, one quote and a vinyl I couldn't stop playing for a week. Turns out the last thing in the parcel was the one that stayed with me.

One week under the Tuscan sun left my brain fried. Literally. Emotionally. Possibly structurally. So, naturally, I listened to the new Maladie album on the flight home. I was already fucked in the head. Might as well make productive use of it.

Mork’s Monolitt landed in my inbox two days before release. I accepted it blind, because apparently black metal brand loyalty is a thing I do now. Here’s the Keeper entry. It includes crushing riffs, excellent diction, one very large rock, and a deeply undignified amount of excitement about Hamburg.

Carefully staged misery, dressed in violet and turned all the way up. Works like a charm.

A delirious journey through saxophone-fuelled black metal chaos. Maladie’s Symptoms IV is equal parts seduction, violence, and pure exhilaration.

The one that dethroned Symptoms IV. Personal, raw, and painfully human—Symptoms III sits with you and names things you are taught not to name.

A cold, melodic deep-dive into Mork’s Det Svarte Juv—the Norwegian black metal album that kicked off my now very real obsession. With chocolate.