Or: How I Was Wrong, Dramatically So.
Some time ago a promo dropped into my Stormbringer inbox. Moonlight Sorcery – Horned Lord of the Thorned Castle. Finnish melodic black metal. Which, on paper, should’ve been my catnip. Finnish. Sparkly. Just the right amount of eyeliner.
I hit play. Made it maybe thirty seconds in.
And then went, “Nah. Not today.”
Closed the tab with the spiritual energy of someone declining a side quest because they couldn’t be arsed to find their boots.
What song was it? Probably Vihan Verhon Takaa, the first single. But truth be told, I don’t remember. I didn’t let it become a memory. I ghosted it. Cold.
Not because it was bad—I didn’t even give it the chance to be bad. I just wasn’t in the mood for galloping guitars and frostbitten synths. I wasn’t feeling epic enough.
Fast forward to 2025. Moonlight Sorcery are on the Fortress Festival lineup—their first international live show, apparently.
(Yes, I still haven’t done my Fortress homework. Yes, it’s starting to stress me out. No, I don’t want to talk about it.)
So, I hit play again.
And this time? It clicked. The melodies soared, the synths sparkled with just the right level of ridiculousness, and the guitars galloped like they had somewhere dramatically inconvenient to be. Suddenly, it all made sense—and I was annoyed at how much I liked it.
Turns out, it wasn’t about the music being right or wrong.
It was about the mood.
And for Moonlight Sorcery? You need to feel at least 15% more heroic than usual. Like your life might have a soundtrack.
Dramatic Entrances Only: The Horned Lord Has Arrived
Horned Lord of the Thorned Castle is Moonlight Sorcery’s full-length debut after two well-received EPs in 2022, and it is exactly what happens when black metal storms the castle—but brings keyboards, glitter, and a solo section that refuses to shut up.
It’s fast. It’s melodic. It’s theatrical.
It is also—and I say this with love—a bit much.
Even the title. Horned Lord of the Thorned Castle.
Looks impressive until you try to say it out loud. Then it’s just exhausting.
And then there’s the album cover, which doesn’t just match the title—it escalates it.
A cursed stone tower. Thorn-covered ruins. Some poor bastard mid-summon on a balcony. And a sky so violently purple it looks like it’s holding a grudge.
It’s not subtle. It’s not tasteful.
It’s perfect.
The kind of artwork that dares you to say it’s “too much” while vines wrap around your ankles and drag you inside. I respect the commitment. I fear the vibes.
The music? Same energy.
It leans into every black metal convention with the confidence of a band that knows the rules and chooses to yeet them into a volcano with frost magic.
This is the kind of music that wears a billowing cloak unironically.
And it’s all the better for it.
A Symphonic Shitstorm in Nine Acts (But Who’s Counting)
The album opens with To Withhold the Day and makes its intentions clear: no prisoners, no patience, no chill.
A short, dramatic Dimmu-style intro, then—chaos. Snarling vocals. Shredding guitars. Synths frosting everything in glittery gloom.
And in the middle? That melodic guitar break?
Unreasonably satisfying.
It makes you want to kick a door open and dramatically pace your flat.
Then we get to The Secret of Streaming Blood—the one I keep going back to. For the title alone, honestly. Six minutes of pure dopamine. Starts with galloping riffs, takes its time building tension, and then just runs off—like a goblin bolting into the woods. A looping melody underpins the whole thing. Soaring guitar leads, furious drums, screeching vocals—this is my happy place.
It’s what power metal thinks it does—only with better vocals and actual bloody teeth.
And then there’s Yönsilmä.
Just—get the fuck out. I love this one so much.
Clean guitar intro. A full 1:10 of it. Unhurried. Confident. And then, right on cue, the chaos kicks in. Symphonic layers. Melodic lift. Guitar lines that sparkle and strut like they own the place. It’s familiar by this point—but it still hits. This band knows how to write the kind of moment that makes you grin, shake your hair out, and flip someone off.
A bit much? Yes.
Bordering on cheesy? Absolutely.
Do I care? Not even slightly.
Then there’s The Moonlit Dance of the Twisted Jester’s Blood-Soaked Rituals.
Yes. That’s really the name.
It’s a three-minute instrumental and drops the black metal entirely. Just guitars. Riffs. Speed. Solos. It goes full Bodom—or maybe Malmsteen, if he was left out in a snowstorm. It’s unhinged. It’s unnecessary. It slaps.
Into the Silvery Shadows of Night catches you off guard. It opens differently—with a longing guitar line and soft, shimmering synths. And then, out of nowhere, a near-DSBM scream. A proper howl. It’s jarring in the best way. There’s a different kind of drama here. Slower. Sadder. The vocals still snarl, but there’s weight behind them. The melody leans into melancholia. The guitar solo gives you space to drift off for a moment—just long enough—before pulling you back into something more heroic. It’s good. It’s really good. It works.
The rest of the album stays strong, even if not every track hits as hard.
In Coldest Embrace leans heavier, with a decent chug and a solid middle.
Vihan Verhon Takaa goes straight for the throat with Finnish fury (which, let’s be honest, always sounds better than English in this genre).
Fire Burns the Horizon is fine—more backgroundy.
Sudden Tie (Wolven Hour Pt. II) closes things out with upbeat, heroic energy. It's nice. Polished. A respectable curtain call—just not the kind of finale that kicks your teeth in.
But honestly? It doesn’t need to.
Because when Moonlight Sorcery are in full flight—when the guitars scream, the synths sparkle, and the melodrama is dialled up to eleven—they’re not just good.
They’re dangerously fun.
The Guitar Work Deserves a Section of Its Own
Let’s be real: the guitar work is what lifts this from "very solid" to "I will now be buying a cape."
Sharp. Clean. Melodic.
And frankly having too much fun.
It’s like someone set out to write serious black metal and accidentally summoned a neoclassical power metal ghost—and then just went with it.
What I love is how much space the guitar gets.
It’s not buried under blast beats. It’s not there for flavour. It leads. It lifts.
The solos aren’t just solos—they’re moments. They shimmer. They strut.
They dare you to call them self-indulgent—and then solo harder.
It’s confident without being cocky. Flashy without being stupid.
And honestly?
It’s what makes this album work.
Final Verdict: I Was Wrong the First Time, and This Slaps
Horned Lord of the Thorned Castle is ridiculous, dramatic, self-indulgent, and absolutely brilliant.
I regret ghosting it in 2023. But maybe I just wasn’t ready. Maybe you have to be in the right mental space to embrace this kind of frostbitten nonsense.
This album demands a mood.
It demands a bit of delusion.
You need to feel like the stakes are slightly higher than usual.
Like your daily routine has side quests.
Like your coffee run might involve a boss battle.
And when you’re in that headspace?
When you’re feeling 15% more heroic than normal?
This album hits like a fireball to the face.