by O)))topi Mills

The case of Sunn 0))) and Ulver is one that  can be already be solved by a certain omen that is duly summed up, to me,  by the album cover, though I haven't yet listened to the music...I mean that when there is an album cover like this, one can surely divest iconic cat feces with a slick commercial polish from the local hardware store...and one that could compse itself entirely of many pompous layers. This said, we shall see, indeed, if it is an overstatement, or a jump of the gun.

There is a long hallway of sound to go through, the first one; "Let There Be Light"- which indulges itself in a near cinematic formula, and drones around like a drunken eastern man finding some sort of sunlit room that is lit with exotic horns, where perhaps he will find by a great airline flight a room of other men- men who cannot really play horns or instruments. But these men can set up stations and make noises in this case as could the much purer species of the ape or orangutang, given the means. Perhaps this is what must one day happen when we can no longer trust our peers?

 One can tell that they must really be grandstanding in imagining that there are sacred places they are going, when in fact it could be capped off by saying it was all just a vanity ride; and a psychosis inherent in men who possess such artistic egos..With the next moments i await another such outburst, however graceful it might appear, but only hear what could be anyone with levers or controls, using them in ways neither grand or interesting at all, but this can never be agreed upon by anyone who would make other people listen to a amp feedback for too long to be reasonable. I await the one who called himself Trickster G once, and know he is the same fellow who never played any of the instruments on the Ulver album that was acoustic. In all honesty the track "Western Horn" could have been made by almost anyone, and sure as the devil himself, i hear a amp feed backing right now suddenly. You know, we all used to do that, but never made songs out of it that went to outrageous lengths. So far, there is no flaky singing by the artist formerly known as G, and I thank them now for not thus far unleashing that exotic, overly manicured parrot into the music; that which is like the fellow who thinks himself an artist and only uses red for awhile before losing interest in mustard and peanut butter sandwiches and switches his artistic phase to yellow.

Oh, how they all start out with black in their suckled youths, and soon switch to brighter, more modern and intelligent phases, and this is the shit stained French gallery that is like modern art. The artist that paints with his own fluids; the hipster at the java train franchise that likes all their albums. This is quite a union here, these great masters of the mind, and one wonders if it were worth the fuel or resources after it lurks and lumbers around like a marriage between Wladziu Valentino Liberaci and a more homogenous Sir Elton John, only less qualified than these old masters of robes and outside pool drinks. But I suppose it will be hailed as genius to both bands' camps; both the people who hear shapes of great collage in the feedback on vintage amplifiers and those who like to experiment with their sexuality and mental problems at home with auto tune and children's paint sets. Ah, the vocals have come in, like someone slipping a young person a Mickey at a Italian spa for impressionists, and so become like George Micheal in a bay of uni-sexual consciousness. It would be interesting to have video footage of these guys and their facial expressions in these sessions, which i am sure lasted far too long into the cool nights.

The final track is upon me now, as I chuckle inside about how "Western Horn" could have been a masterpiece were it only dealing with the subject of a Westerner's take on a creamy Bavarian longhorn, and then there is someone who feigns playing a violin somehow, and then, its all over forever. So, i know now I was right to judge it by the moronic art of the album cover, which has little merit in such a generation. I have found this case to be a great conspiracy that wastes not only time and resources, but also instruments that could have had greater test results on simians. They must now be sentenced to be hanged by a rope from their artistic necks until they are dead.