Terror is man’s conscious manipulation of fear to achieve a desired goal. Terror is a tool best used to subjugate and demoralize a targeted victim. Terror can be considered a psychological means of torture. The degree at which this subtle art is found on Hypsiphrone’s first opus “And The Void Shall Pierce Their Eyes” is terror on a truly malevolent level. Throughout, a filthy display of the darkest industrialized ambient can be found fornicating with the most unholy touches of depraved metal in the blackest recesses of the human imagination. A concoction that would force Gnaw Their Tongues and Aderlating main-man Maurice de Jong to stand up, take notice, and then seriously feel threatened. There is sickness at work here, but more than the discomfort usually found and celebrated in this genre, Hypsiphrone bring the element of fear to the extreme forefront. Fear is the tool at work: fear of physical pain, fear of spiritual malice, and fear of human depravity – among many. Amidst the wailing and shrieking of both human and electronic sources lies the rawest primal material, stripping away all reservations and mores. It is another state of being that allows for all of the ugliness and depravity within the human animal to run rampant free of moralistic judgement.
A cacophony of filth and perversion leads this stomping march through agonizing torture. From the moment of inception it is as if one is slowly forced through a corridor of razor-sharp, rusted metal. Every twist and turn, every movement is a source of blinding pain. Abrasiveness at all the right moments. The torture penetrates to deeper levels than mere physical suffering: a nauseating comfort can be found in swathes of calming synths and feedback, in possibly the most frightening juxtaposition possible. Perhaps this is effect is simply a lesser degree of anguish, but welcome all at the same time. In the midst of a swarm of atonal violence and percussive fury exists a simple piano or a synthetic melody. It is a tantalizing shred of hope that somewhere beauty still exists in the world. Beauty, only by comparison. It is the highest form of cruelty, for the victim to this brutality will never know it, ever again.
Building to the midpoint is an endurance of sanity through the most unimaginable nightmare scenarios. Further on into uncharted psychological territory awaits. The apex is hit with “Resurgence of Mors Sexualis” when we are dragged through a melodic bout of perversion, slightly pleasing to one sense and repulsive to the rest. This constant and concurrent polarity will drive us to madness. Past the initial jolt of disturbance lies an actual hypnotic flow that is welcoming. Is it just acclimatization, or are we actually allowed to breathe for a moment? This assessment is laid to waste upon the death call found in “Into Your Hands I Commit My Spirit” – the full spectrum is experienced once again. Equal parts doom-laden, groaning passages and grating, harrowing mania – one interrupting the other in tandem. It is the final nail in the coffin before laying all to rest in absolute misery.
The only recognizable human moments are found in extremely primal, yet chaotic, drumming or in voices of pure terror, violence, or sexual depravity. There is an uncanny connection to the deepest pit of humanity found in these recordings, and it is thoroughly and mercilessly exploited. Hypsiphrone have found a way to tear open the listener, implant their evil, and let it wreak total havoc from within. All nightmares are made reality and all apprehensions are turned into terrors. It is far easier to lose one’s self in this than to fight against the tide. Submitting to the torturous nature and normalizing to the fear is the only way to survive.
01. A Momentary Vision Of Light & Hope
02. An Epiphany Written In Blood
03. Bleak Old Shadows
04. Her Name Is Upon The Graves Of Those She Slays
05. Embrace Of Soul & Flesh
06. Resurgence Of Mors Sexualis
07. Cornucopia Saluti
08. Worlds Are Wounds Of Desolation
09. Into Your Hands I Commit My Spirit