Blind Trust, Bad Deadlines, and One Very Large Black Metal Rock
The promo for Monolitt, Mork's latest release, appeared in my inbox two days before release. Two. That's definitely not a reasonable review timeline for me. Because I like to marinate in my music. I listen to albums about 47 times before I even jot down a note. Oh well. It was there. Sitting in my inbox. Politely. Naturally, I accepted it.
Didn't listen to the singles first. Didn't check the promo text. Didn't check my schedule.
I read "Mork" and went: yes. Fine. Hand it over.
Because at this point, I seem to have developed what can only be described as black metal brand loyalty. Very unbecoming, I know. But here we are. Mork have earned it.
This whole thing started back in 2022 with Det Svarte Juv, a Wacken livestream, a band logo I couldn’t decipher if my life depended on it, and me texting Mik —my unofficial black metal hotline—like the helpless little genre tourist I was: “Dude. Who is this?”
The answer came promptly: “Mork. Norwegian. Quite good.”
As usual, he was right.
Det Svarte Juv became my proper gateway into black metal. Yes, of course, there was Cradle of Filth before that, but one can argue if Midian is still black metal or something else entirely. Cradle is their own genre. Det Svarte Juv however was still cold and ugly and snarling—but also strangely inviting. Survivable. Something I could walk into and actually want to stay in.
Mork stuck after that. One minute I was trying to identify a logo on a livestream, the next I was on holiday in Denmark, gleefully posing with a bar of Mørk Chokolade while wearing a Mork shirt. Of course, by now I also own the proper Mork denim jacket from Norwegian Rat. Black, excellent, wrong size, but nevertheless deeply beloved.
So yes. When Monolitt came knocking late and inconveniently, I did not hesitate. I just opened the bloody door.
Straight Into The Deep End
Under Vekten Av Verden does not ease you in. It just starts. Abruptly enough that I genuinely felt irritated for a second. Like, excuse me? We’re doing this immediately? No warning? No handrail? Lovely.
But it didn't take long to reel me in. Eriksen’s voice is the first thing that grabs me. Obviously. I am very easy to manipulate if someone snarls with enough conviction. But this is not just "raw vocals good, me happy." It’s the way he enunciates. The way every line feels chewed through and spat out with intent. Harsh, yes. Ugly, sure. But also so weirdly clear that I keep following his voice like a thread through the dark.
And while I’m busy doing that, the instruments are casually digging a hole under my feet. Furious blasting. Ice-cold riffing. Bass wonderfully present. The guitars loop, tighten, turn groovy and filthy, then coil back up again. You are being pushed straight into the deep end. Before you’ve even had the chance to decide whether you like Monolitt, you’re already drowning in weight and blackness.
And then comes Ødelagt. Bleak from the start. Dissonant tremolo riffs. Blast beats. No nonsense. Absolutely not. This one is tighter, less playful, more direct. It walks in, locks the door, and turns the heating off. The machine-gun riffs are ridiculous, and then there is that 17-second growl.
No, we are not talking about it.
I am trying to maintain some dignity here.
Afterwards, the song slows almost to molasses speed. Everything gets darker, more dangerous, more oppressive, while a single guitar melody tries to cut through the weight and doesn’t quite make it. Perfect.
Torden is the more compact offering. Thunderclap at the start, thunder grumbling underneath, primal drumming, spacious guitars, clean background vocals. It’s dramatic without being overwhelming and works exactly like a good single should: a small, self-contained glimpse of what the album can do.
The middle absolutely refuses to sag. Skrømt is cold and vast, with spacious guitars, subtle synths, a ghostly atmosphere and a groovy rhythm section underneath. It doesn’t charge like the first tracks. It creeps. Eriksen’s vocals have this almost storytelling quality here, and I start thinking this might be my favourite.
Ferdamann follows, however, and immediately makes things difficult by being excellent as well. Epic. Stomping. Instant head-nodding. Shredding rhythm guitars over pounding drums, wider guitar lines opening up behind them, subtle strings worked in without tipping into cheese. And the ending? Crashing cymbals, epic guitars, drawn-out rasps. Of course I love it.
Inn i en annen sfære starts soft, which feels like a small surprise by this point. Picked guitar, cold and wistful, synth in the background. Then the drums and rhythm guitar set in, but it’s not a storm. It’s dense, oppressive, heavy. There’s subtle throat singing in the background that I nearly missed, plus clean backing vocals and melodic guitar lines scattered through the track. It gains urgency without simply charging ahead. One of those songs that unfolds properly only after a few listens.
The final stretch stays strong. Martyr is a dense little riff monster: stomping, snarling, heavy groove, compact and perfectly happy being exactly what it is. Jutul is all dissonance, frantic drumming, cold searing guitars — and then suddenly: clean vocals, wider space, flowing melody. "Pretty" is probably the wrong word. But beauty is there. Buried. Frostbitten. Slightly hostile. Utryddelse closes the album with furious riffing, blast beats, strong snarls and a clear 90s black metal feel. It doesn’t need to reinvent anything at the end. By then, Monolitt has already made its point. Loudly. With excellent diction.
Another One For The Shrine
I didn’t have a lot of time with this album. And yet I decided to write about it. Messy. Without overthinking. Because while I was listening, it became very clear to me—once again—why Mork keep working so well for me.
Yes, there are the hard facts. Monolitt is insanely well produced without being overpolished. The performances are tight. The songwriting is focused. The musicians involved know exactly what they’re doing, which is always helpful. Shocking, I know.
But that’s not the whole thing. The thing about Mork is this: they have the traditional black metal DNA. The coldness. The drive. The forward motion. The bite. But they don’t just hammer you into submission. There is always more underneath.
They open landscapes in your head.
Cold. Bleak. Wide.
Still black metal, always. But with enough emotional depth to latch onto.
That is why Monolitt works. It is heavy, focused, and beautifully unpleasant, but it never feels flat. It snarls. It crushes. It lets the bass breathe. It lets melodies appear like cracks in frozen ground. It gives you weight and space at the same time. It is an exceptionally well done album. The kind that makes my whole “black metal brand loyalty” situation look annoyingly reasonable. Into the shrine it goes.
And next?
October. Hamburg. Headliner tour. Stormbringer assignment. Me and my camera.
Mork are finally coming close enough for me to see them live, and I have been waiting for this for a long time. I want the riffs. I want the cold. I want the perfected corpsepaint shots.
And yes.
God help me.
I hope he does the growl.