review by: Mladen Škot

Now this is personal. I, for one, have been highly curious about Blut Aus Nord. Reading all the reviews of their previous albums, who'd know what to think? Everyone seems to be praising them as the future of black metal, forward-thinking visionary avant-garde art, the scariest and the most cherished thing the underground has. But there's always that one voice in a thousand saying that it's just pointless experimentation for the sake of experimentation. So, who is right? Probably all of them — or none of them. To this writer, after all the time living with MoRT, the only thing springing to mind is — they're OK. Simply. OK.

First impression was promising — in a "what the fuck" manner you're exposed to a truly ghastly, suffocating, evil sound. The first track is a slow, pulsating anti-symphony of murky, wailing and dissonant guitars. So dissonant, in fact, that there probably isn't a single normal chord on the album. It's all slowly played and gradually changing to instill more and more uneasiness into the poor listener's brain. The cavernous drums are programmed into patterns far from what you'd call "normal" playing — here they resemble drops of icy water falling behind your neck while trying to find your way out of a dark cave.

The growls come from somewhere below — or deeper. No comparisons are really fair, but try thinking of early Emperor, Arcturus or Summoning, but twisted inside-out, played backwards and warped into a nightmare soundscape.

Then you realize that the second track is in the same tempo, with the similar patterns... just like the third. And the rest of them. After a puzzled moment, a look at the press material reveals that MoRT (Metamorphosis of Realistic Theories) actually IS one song, but divided into eight parts. Well, (again) personally, the only way I could enjoy all that in one piece would be if I was on drugs. But, a druggie I am not, therefore I did the best I could by having a sleepless night and trying to listen to MoRT tired, zombified, with a couple of drinks inside me and in the dark. And it was even worse — all I could think of were some random thoughts about retarded, drugged, pretentious urban Frenchmen going, "hey, we are weird! Look at us, we are sooo weird! And we can go on like this forever!" and something about stupid French cartoons like "Le Piaf" and the one with the crawling baby. And their pointless crime films. And how I hate Luc Besson, Moulin Rouge and the fashion industry.

Then, a couple of hours later, MoRT started sounding decent again. Sure, it's dark, gloomy and oppressive, but it's just that with all the (be it true or fake) unpleasantness, nothing has stayed to haunt me. Plus, there is not a big shift in mood throughout the album. But, if you're of the addictive and/or meditative type, I can imagine it could do some weird things to you.

The best advice would be: try to hear at least one track before you buy MoRT. Chances are you might love it, but just as well you might find yourself waiting for the real music to begin. If everything else fails look at it this way: it's Summoning, but played by Orcs. (6.9/10)

MoRT, in contrast, sounds re-hashed. They’ve got that insidious, droning mooing thing going on — unique to them, but not in the least unique for them. And from what little I heard, it seems Mladen’s point of view is 100 percent valid.