Slagmaur lured me in with sheep, hit me with distorted forest madness, and somehow ended up as the first item on my Fortress 2027 homework list.

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.

I was at Atmospheric Arts Festival in Speyer last weekend. Here’s the field report. It includes a poncho, a bathrobe, singing bowls, Riesling Schorle, a bat t-shirt, an emotional breakdown courtesy of a Canadian post-black metal band and the phrase "Hansi Kürsch of depressive black metal". So yes. I had a good day.

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.