Nifelheim – Envoy Of Lucifer Review

Originally written by Sasha Horn

Guilty as charged. Guilty as charged of making Metal into nearly flesh and blood.  Talking about it like it’s my BFF. It can do no wrong by me. Unlike a significant other, or even actual real best friend forever, it has no emotional issues, no ulterior motives, it isn’t complex. It’s a lifelong friendship reduced to its most basic common denominator. So when everything is smiles for miles, Metal takes that and extends it by continental proportions. And when the chips are down, there it is to give me more chips, and make sure I never go hungry. It’s only sole purpose is to always constantly be my sound of perseverance; my advocate forever. If I’m alone on this one, then yeah, I’m a little off my rocker, but then I’m still more Metal than you.  However, I think that there are plenty of you like me, and I think that even Metal thinks that Nifelheim is Metal. That’s how fucking Metal Nifelheim is.

These four guys are so pointy with gun belts and nails that I was planning on giving this a stellar review even if I thought that it blew, for fear I would be hunted down and had my last breath taken from me. Honestly though, Envoy of Lucifer is as far away from sucking or blowing as possible. Why did I unintentionally avoid them for the 18 years of their existence thus far? I’d gotten close enough to that ultra-evil logo. I remember that I’d seen it around, and then probably, stupidly, chose to sidestep it for some edgy, guitar wankery and jag-offery outfit.  Whatever. What the fuck was wrong with me?!?! That inlay slip alone gives off the temperature of Hell-fire. This one here is about non-fuck-withable-blackened-thrash-attack degrees Fahrenheit, burning like…… burning like something on fire, lots of fire, but in 1984, and giving off a punk’n’roll stink (check “Evil Is Eternal”).  They are, in name alone, an entity unto themselves, with a leather skin that is aged and well worn by cigarette smoke and spilled shot glasses. This Swedish bunch are an envoy indeed. How can you deny that they are the bringers of torture with song titles like “Claws Of Death” and “Storm Of The Reaper”? You can’t, simply. Granted, the track listing would actually sound scary in the early ’80s, and now risks sounding almost cute, but so true is their attempt to revisit the glory days of an Endless Pain/Haunting the Chapel/Sentence Of Death era, that it has me thinking about the amount of violence it would have caused back then, and to be honest, I’m a bit concerned for the welfare of others even now. Right out of the gates they slay with “Internal Flame of Destruction”, which pretty much sets the tempo for 95% of Envoy. Like i said, it’s a thrash attack, plain and simple, with some decrepit hills and valleys thrown in for good measure (the unexpected and hardly progged out breakdown of “Raging Flames”). What more do you want from me? I’m not compiling an Envoy book of guitar tablature here. Straight and to the point is very fitting, you’ll see.

My good advice to you is to peep the cover art, judge the contents by the cover, but keep in mind that you’re dealing with members and ex-members of Necrophobic, Dismember, and Entombed, so appreciate the restraint. Go listen to “Evocation Of The End”, and then admit it, this has got to be what Evil thinks Evil sounds like. Even the production is lo-fi with its middle-finger approach to recording, kissing off our digi-era. The only pro-tools here are their chains and leather armor bathed in bolts.

Fucking menacing.

Posted by Old Guard

The retired elite of LastRites/MetalReview.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.