Or: Post-Black Metal, My Beloved (You Overwrought Bastard)
Well. That escalated quickly. Again.
Someone tossed me a crumb—and I devoured it.
This time: Ellende—L.G.’s solo post-black metal project from Austria. More specifically: the 2016 album Todbringer.
I had no prior knowledge. No expectations. I just hit play. Because apparently, I enjoy sabotaging my own peace.
And the album hit back immediately. With a piano. Naturally.
It’s always the piano. That fragile, mournful intro that makes you stop whatever sensible thing you were doing and start staring moodily out a window you don’t even own. This one floats over distant detonations—because if post-black metal can make the end of the world sound poetic, it will.
In my head, I saw it straight away: a man at a piano, French windows open, burnt curtains dragging in the breeze. Outside, it’s night. And everything’s burning.
He’s not escaping it.
He’s not fighting it.
He’s just playing.
Because someone has to.
Post-black doesn’t begin. It unfolds like a final act. And this one had me from the first note.
Die Welt in ihrer jetzigen Gestalt ist nicht zu ertragen.
This is where Todbringer stops being background noise and starts telling the truth.
Ballade auf den Tod was the first proper song I heard from Ellende—and it hit all the right spots.
Like—Exactly the right spots.
You know those songs. The ones that don’t ask for permission. The ones that just arrive and feel like home. This was one of them.
It starts with a longing guitar over atmospheric orchestrations. Subtle black metal riffing creeping in. It takes its time—more than a minute of slow, calculated lure. But I was ready for it. At this point, the post-black blueprint is muscle memory. I was waiting for the scream.
And it comes.
Raw. Pained. Perfect.
Supported by accentuated, measured drumming that gives the whole thing a groove—something grounded to get lost in. It’s hypnotic, not because it repeats, but because it breathes. The pacing. The tone. The vocal texture. Everything unfolds with care, without ever losing its edge.
The lyrics—though in my own language—aren’t easy to follow unless you already know them. It’s that particular brand of gruff, raspy delivery that doesn’t aim to be understood. It just feels. And it happens to land right in my sweet spot.
But then, something shifts.
The rasping stops. And in its place–clean vocals. Clear. Deliberate.
Not buried. Not screamed. Just said.
It's the part your're meant to hear.
"Die Welt in ihrer jetzigen Gestalt ist nicht zu ertragen. [...]
Die Menschen sterben, und sie sind nicht glücklich."
—Albert Camus. Caligula.
There it is.
Nihilism, stated plainly.
Not with despair, but with certainty.
It doesn’t ask for a reaction.
It just is—like gravity. Like decay.
And the song moves on, but you don’t.
Because those words stay.
The song is nearly eight minutes long.
And it never fucking drags. It just doesn’t.
Because it moves. It flows. It creates space.
The instrumentation, the guitar work, the shifting drums, the vocals—all of it is detailed, deliberate.
It never loses itself.
It never breaks the spell.
It just carries you deeper in.
Verehrung, Scherben, Versprochen, Verachtung
I wanna mention the titles. Because holy fuck.
Putting Verehrung, Scherben, Versprochen and Verachtung into one row?
That says something.
Devotion.
Fragments.
Promises.
Contempt.
It doesn’t sound like an album.
It sounds like the aftermath of something sacred.
What stands out most to me? The atmosphere. The orchestrations.
Not just layered in, but threaded through.
They speak. In every track. In every instrumental.
With my thoughts. With my heart.
I don’t need the lyrics. I catch glimpses.
That’s enough.
This album isn’t built to be dissected. The songs bleed into each other.
This is meant to be heard in one go. Or several, if you’re me.
(I’ve had it on repeat for more than 36 hours now. I’m not exaggerating. I’ve forgotten what silence sounds like.)
I Know I Just Said "No Dissection"—and Yet.
Ballade auf den Tod was the instant favourite.
But the others? They’re not far behind.
Verehrung is softer, without losing its edge. A velvet dagger.
The melody is immediate, inviting. You’re humming along before you realise.
Soft choral arrangements shimmer in the background—like a hymn.
Like something holy. Verehrung.
Scherben is fifteen minutes long. And it earns every second. It begins gently. Acoustic guitar, a soft melodic thread. Then the electric guitar slides in, just distorted enough to ache. The build is deliberate. Slow. Dramatic.
It’s textbook post-black. But it’s done so fucking well.
The choral voices return. The drumming shifts.
The bass hums steady and present—threading the whole thing together.
And then it catches.
Not my ear—something deeper.
One tone, held just long enough to start resonating in my chest. Like a tuning fork that found the frequency of me. How I bloody love it when music does that.
There’s another quote tucked inside this track.
Nietzsche, this time:
"Die Menschen liebe ich nicht.
Der Mensch ist mir eine zu unvollkommene Sache."
Jesus. I want that tattooed on my chest.
And then it’s just screams.
Screams.
Screams.
The kind that makes you sit down.
Exhale.
Shaking.
Because it’s not performance. It’s release.
In its purest form.
Versprochen is the lullaby.
Bass low and slow like a heartbeat through fabric. Guitar lines curling into you like steam.It never raises its voice. It doesn’t need to. It just stays. And keeps you still long enough to feel everything.
Verachtung is dressed like joy and coughing like death.
Nearly upbeat. Nearly clean. Not fooling anyone.
There’s rot in the lyrics. But not necessarily in the sound.
Viola. And coughing—sick, heavy, plague-ridden coughing—folded into the mix like instrumentation.
Lovely.
For the Anxious, the Exhausted, and the Upright Anyway
What makes Todbringer work isn’t just contrast.
It’s the way melody and grief wrap around each other. The way pain is shaped, sculpted, made beautiful—without ever being soft.
It is painfully beautiful.
And it doesn’t let go.
And yes—I said beautiful.
Every scream.
Every shred of dissonance.
I know some people only hear screaming.
Noise.
Disturbance.
Feedback.
I was told as much again this morning.
Gently mocked. Politely misunderstood.
And it made me realise something.
I’ve found a home in this.
In a soundscape not many people choose to nest in.
It feels natural to me.
It doesn’t to others.
Where others hear death and rot and noise and shrieks—I hear feeling.
Take Verachtung, for example. That bit around 4:55. There’s the blast beats—relentless, hammering.
And underneath?
A string of bass notes, creeping and crawling through the mix like a pulse.
Low. Warm. Comforting, somehow.
Threaded beneath the noise like it belongs to you.
And yes—he’s screaming.
Shrieking his head off.
But at 5:40, the song takes off.
This is the fucking part I live for in songs like this.
When the blast beats step back,
the screaming pauses—just for a second to catch breath—and the guitars lift.
They launch into a melody that is uplifting,
defiant, and just so fucking radiant
you forget you were curled in on yourself.
It gives you energy.
It gives you the ability to get up.
To square your shoulders.
To take all the fucking pain,
and depression,
and anxiety,
and guilt-riddled fuck you are carrying—
and keep going.
With your head held high.
So no.
This is not music that drags you down.
This is actually fucking music to get you up.
And moving.
This is the fight song for people like me.
Because it takes the pain.
It acknowledges it.
And it turns it into drive.
The End, As It Loops
We end with Am Ende Stirbst Du Allein.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Nihilism in a nutshell.
The piano is back.
Mirroring the intro.
No pause. No closure.
Just a loop.
The end and the beginning.
Held in the same breath.
And So—*sigh*
What can I say?
Really.
Ffs.
I guess it’s thank you—again.
To the artist.
For making this.
For gifting me another album so firmly embedded in my DNA, I’m practically breathing it now.
It is rare.
It is a treasure.
And I’m not even close to tired of yelling this into the world.