Fluisteraars - De Kronieken van het Verdwenen Kasteel - I - Harslo
Eisenwald
The scorching heat strips the walls of their colour. Flaking off like leaves in Fall, the pieces float floorwards. Gathering in little piles reminiscent of ash, they wait for the wind to scatter them in to oblivion. Any time now they'll meet their final destination. Fluirestraars latest project permeates a ferocious tone - scathing and, at times, stunning.
'Fluisteraars' is Dutch for 'Whisperers' - calls from the nether realm. We interpret these whispers, although spirits are screaming with all their might. The universe comes through them. Chanelling the abyss, they warn us of the woes to come. Do we listen? Of course not. We already know the score. We're dead before it begins.
The breakdowns on Die Kronieken are nasty - crusty and crisp. Slowed down to a pummeling pace - a pace of high-viscosity; thick and smoldering. A reset before the breakneck ride sets off once again - before the battery begins again. With squawking guitars - ear-piercing; like lo-fi Pokemon sounds - they cut through solid matter itself. Nothing stands a chance. Stand up and get sliced down. Nothing ever stood a chance. Hope where it doesn't belong is a dangerous thing. A lifeline with nothing on the other end is secretive suicide. Waiting for help while withering away in the meantime. Clutching to nothingness. Bouts of empty promises packed with disappointment.
The final three or so minutes are nothing short of beautiful - bittersweet. It feels as if it's being pulled through space and time - from a place that has been abandoned and left to fend for itself; sorrowful but forgiving.
