I have trouble reviewing Sacred Steel without laughing myself silly. They remind me of Agent Steel and bands that were second rate the first time around.
The ’80s are over and so are layered harmonies, classical guitar wanking, vocal warbling, and Whitesnake-sounding, lyrically-inane, hard rock posturing.
Evil is eternal, screams of pain linger in the mind, and sweeping beauty and lurking death will never go out of style any more than they’ve ever been in style.
In the hyperspeed drumming/blurred run-together riffs/screaming vocals semi-buried in the mix vein of non-keyboard black metal, Dark Funeral is dark and eerie.
You can fuck to it, drink to it, declare a point of grave creation, sit in exile under fist over lecture, or stare at a dark wall with a gun in your underwear.