Warmoon Lord – Burning Banners Of The Funereal War Review

h blessed art thou, most darkest of steel! Thy lightless array of befrozen art doth resonate profoundly within mine loins, hailing the blackened heart that lurks below! How shalt I describe thee, in this, the Year Of The False Lord 2019? But I must pick an example, should I not? Alas, has any such metal of black been smolded in these most barren of times? Behold, a challenger to the crown of unholy thorns, the ward of darkness, his infernal majesty of Finland, Warmoon Lord! It is he who hath emerged a worthy contender with his own tale of sinister might, Burning Banners Of The Funereal War.

Shall I compare thee to the food that doth adorne thine dinner plate? Nay, for thou leaves such an emptiness unrequited. Shall I compare thee to the cemetery, where the ancestors of thine fathers lay? Nay, for this is the purest of evil, and no warmth of sentiment towards thy ancient past shall soil the blade of malice here, methinks! Shall I compare thee to a woman’s touch? Nay, for no woman shall touch we, the dwellers of the night! Upon deeper contemplation, a flurry of thought springs forth to the front of the mind – the answer to such a riddle lay before thee all along. The simplest answer is to compare thine dark art to that of colour, despite an absence of such in thy stylistic moniker. Consider thine bards that march to war, those that bear the standard of black and white and crimson. An elocutionary stance that draws forth certain expectations, the art that adorns the covers of such works implies the sound that lies beneath. However, a different mood is implied when thine bard applies the hue of violet to the black and white palette of cover art – an expectation is set of the more bombastic and symphonic nature, perhaps some repressed memory of warriors past, such as the almighty Emperor or, more recently, dark artist Vargrav. Were such an assumption to be made, it would most certainly not be a false one, as Warmoon Lord blends synths with fuzz-laden riffs to sculpt a sight to be heard, indeed!

 

“The Tragic Moon” calls forth hymns of old, recalling memories of the false prophet of the New World, Judas Iscariot. The mid-pace, ancient sounds of the guitar lock into primeval form most evil, serving as an introduction to thy destruction. “Obsessing Darkness,” the first fully fleshed out track on Burning Banners Of The Funereal War, kicks into a more frantic pace, seething dark energy from a place most foul in the eyes of the righteous. Beneath the overarching melody lay subtle touches that breathe life into the unholy affair, from the soft choir of maidens from the keys of the synth, to the deep rumble of beasts beneath the surface, to the sounds of the plastic instrument of might frantically picking acrost thy sinister axe as thy riffs spewst forth in malevolent indignation! These subtle touches shall come to full fruition in the coming onslaught, or shall my father’s name be forever sullied, I should say!

“Full fruition” may indeed be an understatement, for when the mighty “In Rotting Memory’s Grave” kicks in, a feeling of aggression is added to the rayless manifesto. And lo! What lurks beyond yon castle walls? A breakout riff, highlighting itself against the song structure, seething in the triumph of evil. There is a nobility to be found in Warmoon Lord’s wickedness, and epic refrain that shall leave the timid running in fear of the almighty dark!

Returning to the metaphour of colour, consider the coat of the raven’s feather. To the casual eye it may seem like a jet black, darker than the darkest night, but when a glimmer of light is sheen acrost its membrane a glamorous display of colour can truly be found within! It is in this manner that the true nature of Warmoon Lord is revealed indeed, for the way in which “Funereal Blood” is coated in rich tones of texturized synths against strong, dissonant melodies splashes hues of saturated violet to the rich, crisp palette of the black, white, and grey of the static of the guitar’s distortion. Thine bard doth paint such exquisite tapestries of villainy, conjuring images of rancorous fjords and spiraling, sinister towers of the castles of the damned as beastly winged demons doth soar lazily above on their watch, ever vigilantly searching for the bountiful blood of virtuous victims, foolishly blinded by the implied goodness that supposedly lurks within the hearts of men. Intense grows the atmosphere as “Blazing Warrior Soul” emerges from the caucophonic fog of war, leading Warmoon Lord to victory amongst the indigo flames of his unholy conquest.

The builds here be pleasant, dear Reader, as Warmoon Lord truly hath constructed an abominable force of evil might indeed! His unhallowed work is surely to be best experienced as a whole as his power doth grow in a sequential manner, and whilst our Lord Of Lunarterial Conflict may ne’er stray from the deeply rooted path of worship of the Second Wave, his execution of such worship is done from a realm of inspiration. Hail the mighty Warmoon Lord or be impaled upon his mighty scepter of might!