“Totschlager” (A Saintslayer’s Songbook)

By Octopi Mills

ABIGOR have returned again, this time with a certain red album art and the theme of Cain is said to be the bloody subject of the album. The promotional  sheet comments on the old “Nachthymen” album, and walks in tall grass in such a statement. The sound is of course not of the old Polish or Finnish value being kept alive by the dungeon variety mold gardener, nor would one expect the demo sound here or for things to ever go back to such glorious times. The polished feeling is crisp, clean, and disinfected. The vocals are all over the place and reach for something grandiose, as do the arrangements; wild, varied, chaotic, maniacal. 

At times the stormy formula works towards something and it overwhelms itself, much like what EMPEROR became at latter times, though sounding insanely different. There are enough varied changes to warrant a few listens before grasping certain parts which fly by at blinding speed at times, and there is a measure of atmospheric keys inlaid into the process for fleeting moments. Abstract things happen, things that are akin to a weird combination of warring elements, pulling one all different directions as if being stretched apart by big horses. It is hard to tell what is going on as there are so many chaotic things exploding in very varied directions. It is as if there are four or five different scenes happening at once and one has not the proper time to correlate the relations they have with one another, leading me to kick the chair out from under the whole thing. If it were a soup it would be like a stone/nail soup of a mishmash of contributors, whether by one or all- a patchwork brew put together like a Frankenstein monster who is destined to be run into a old building and burned by peers. 

They keep up the appearance with the accompaniment of a "lavish 20 -page booklet", this much we are to be told outright. I must say, this album is just too overwhelming for me to find anything to say but gelatinous, babbling, mouth frothing things. I can't find thoughts and struggle with concentrating whilst listening to this insane mess of a mind flaying all time feeling; I can't find merit with it at all and wonder if it may be my fault. If this is not true, then I cannot rightfully apologize and feel as if I am a victim here with these men. There are parts that disperse before they form and go into something else, all the while held together by the masquerading guitar and drum course which often either do something uninterestingly interesting or betray themselves by going some place of great height only to disappear and never be heard from again. The vocals themselves are a wild thing to hear but I cannot keep up with it all and feel like an old folk's home my be prepared for me in the latter years where I will be ladled a thin, canned soup for my banality.