If you're like me and you never ever stop thinking about death not even for half of a second, your thoughts might frequent well-established institutions of death like coffins, decomposition, skeletons, severed heads, graveyards - typical and completely normal death stuff. Beyond such demonstrably cool externalities of gore and rot, death also occurs internally, abstractly, unknowably. Coming to terms with what happens when not only the body but the mind has expired is something that every lucid human must do.
Sad-eyed snoozers Demigod did just that in 1991 when they released seminal tape
Unholy Domain. The endearingly crude lyrics cannot undermine the weight of the themes present here which include inner turmoil, existential dread, profane ressurection and morbid resignation. Heavier still is the music itself; eye-watering amounts of treble, skull rattling reverb and a crunch like walking on days-old snow jut from quintessential Finnish gloom. An overwhelming sense of darkness pervades this release, setting a respectable benchmark for the burgeoning scene, one noteworthy even among so many lauded peers.
From the chilling opening synths (complete with delicately authentic tape crackles) and knells of intro track "Perpetual Ascent" (a superior version to the one later featured on
Slumber of Sullen Eyes), through the following 20 minutes of crushing groove,
Unholy Domain lays down an enviable legacy for the band even when disregarding the more famous and refined 1992 album. This demo is unbelievably heavy for a 1991 release, a year when the aforementioned raw tone of the plethora of excellent riffs must have seemed wildly excessive. The drums and vocals, typically snapping grooves and deranged growls, hold the blanket of reverb in place comfortably. For a short release
Unholy Domain includes an impressive density of quality riffs, with standout moments including the accelerating section in the second half of "Anxiety", the towering grooves throughout "Reincarnation", and the raw climax of "Succumb to Dark", where the overall restrained style of the drumming gives way to the last of numerous unhinged blasts.
It's oddly idyllic to imagine these young Finnish dudes, unanimous in their morbid obsession, cranking the tones of their instruments to absurd levels and just blaring this demented sh
it from a garage or whatever in some profoundly dark and cold baltic suburb. Somehow it's comforting that such a wholesome reconciliation with death is timeless and that even 30 years later the perfect music is available when left alone with irresistible thoughts of death.
