It took me fuck knows how many years of reviewing records to find a use for this word right here: tripe. Fuck this inane blabber, fuck the senselessly pathetic "True narrow-minded black metal" wankery and most of all, fuck every idiot out there who thinks this project is anything but a cash-in filler. Does anyone actually believe this guy has to use a drum machine ’cause he can’t find a decent drummer? He plays in one of Norway’s most (undeservingly) heralded underground black metal bands, you fucking dickheads. It would’ve taken the time to drop a barrel of lube on a random Carpathian Forest fan for this jackass to recruit whatever noname or Hellhammer to play on the record. Why bother when the whole thing is a fucking joke anyway? No need to share the revenue with anyone when you’re doing it all yourself. A piss-poor job it is anyway, as can be said for every riff, every vocal performance and especially the childish piss passed off for lyrical content. Nevermind this dunce’s main band Carpathian Forest is "also" a gang of assnecked finger-pullers who should’ve shelved their asses a few decades ago, having conjured up one (1) decent riff on "Black Shining Leather" (Observe the blazing Village People reference that title is, by the way) isn’t going to help much when this is what you’re doing these days. Fuck anyone who buys this record, and bonusfuck Season Of Mist for consistently releasing nothing but worthless gumbo for late night closet cocksuckers and cross-dressing, pillowbiting mongoloids.

Written By: Angry Norse