So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; and it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. – 1 Corinthians 15:42-44
For millennia, evangelists have preached that the human body is a vessel of the human spirit. Death is truly the crown of our earthly existence, they say. Once we take our final breath, our pounds of flesh merely rot, again joining Mother Earth. But our souls, my friends, our souls transcend. Onto another plane of existence, they speak; some will endure eternal torment—others, infinite bliss.
Their subsequent LPs, Death and The Baneful Choir, each brandish the strident character of the debut with some distinctive outliers boiling beneath their surface. Death is still visceral, cohesive, and varied in structure, and maybe even more so, ripping towards the jugular with more grandiose production. The Baneful Choir: The band maintains its primitive qualities but leans even more into the atmospheric realm; the songs fluctuate like a lone drifter meeting a ghostly whisper, first chilling, then oddly comforting.
Teitanblood’s latest endeavor, more than five years in the making, is From the Visceral Abyss—a title hitting the proverbial nail on the head. After a few listens, it’s quite evident its closest relative is 2014’s Death, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the continuation of the band’s more recent attention to ambiance. Of course, the latter statement isn’t to say Teitanblood hasn’t always given off that swamp-of-filth atmosphere akin to an early Carcass intertwined with the sinister qualities of a Katharsis. In typical fashion, you’ll hear a band continuing to blur the lines between extreme metal subgenres. The opener, “Enter the Hypogeum,” erupts with a not-so-subtle nod to primitive black metal production momentarily before a bombastic, more hi-fi wall of sound roars through the speakers and hits with the same spirit and ferocity of a modern war metal opus.
The relentless chaos of a “Sepulchral Carrion God,” or the title track, bestows the band at perhaps its most violent. The monolith of guitars is almost perfectly aligned in the mix with the rapid-fire work behind the kit for more than 15 minutes between the two tracks—an experience—and I understand the logical issue here—like burning alive while drowning. Bludgeoning and cathartic, “Strangling Visions” might comprise the most guitar-shredding moments on the record, returning the manic Repulsion-ish guitar solos throughout. It might even be—and I say this loosely—the catchiest song on the LP. Vocally, it’s equivalent to the screeches and howls of the most benevolent spirit conjured via the Grand Grimoire. Aside from the interlude, “And Darkness Was All” is the closest you’ll get to having a brief moment for respite, and even that isn’t until the latter half of the track. The pacing here is perfect: gradually-built, brooding riffs for over a minute before blasts and chaotic solos unleash yet again.
Like Death, From the Visceral Abyss rounds out with the album’s most extended and atmospheric offering: “Tomb Corpse Haruspex.” The song could be a one-track album in and of itself. The ebb and flow, from spectral synths to droning guitars to blackened-death sections to wounded prey vocals to choirs, is the epitome of Teitanblood’s aura. And as mysteriously as it arrives, it drifts along with the album.
As I sit here writing this, the puzzle pieces fit together perfectly. In the eleventh hour of 2024, Teitanblood made a cryptic social media post. After countless listens of From the Visceral Abyss, that cryptic post isn’t so cryptic. In many ways, album No. 4 is indeed the second Death. Not just because it’s the band’s finest release since that 2014 offering but because it fits the mold and spirit of what makes that release a classic. Beneath the noise and countless layers of sound is the representation of our human existence—an awakening, if you will. With that, From the Visceral Abyss isn’t meant to be a question but rather an answer.
And all you have to do is ask.
And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death. – Revelation 20:14
