Review: Unhallowed – Awaken The Black Flame
The 90ies are back in black! At least with Unhallowed, whose “Awaken the Black Flame” invokes the early days of black metal, driven by icy riffs, relentless drumming, and shrieked vocals that cut like winter wind. The production gleams with clarity, giving each note weight without bleeding warmth.
From the opening surges of the title track, the album announces itself with severe conviction. There is no filler, no moment of hesitation; every riff, every rhythm feels essential. Melodies emerge, jagged and sorrowful, threading through the blasts of aggression with unnerving grace. The contrasts feel sculpted, asmelodic breaks descend into pummeling assaults and dissolve again, all within compressed seconds. The atmosphere is ritualistic; darkness feels alive and chilly, as though the listener’s breath will solidify in the air.
What impresses most is the compositional discipline. Though this is a debut, the songwriting is tight: no aimless passages, no indulgent solos. Even in mid-tempo passages, the album refuses comfort. Snatches of subtle orchestration surface but never overwhelm; when they appear, they feel like echoes in a frost-laden crypt, reinforcing rather than distracting.
There’s no overt experimentation, yet the band avoids mere imitation. They summon the spirit of Scandinavian giants but infuse it with their own cold resolve. Themes of desolation, prophecy, and spectral rebirth rise from under the guitars, giving the record an eldritch weight that feels carved from ice. Melodic death metal’s edge is acknowledged, but the heart of the album is in its savage symphony of black metal and the melding of melody and brutality into something ritualistic.
Clocking just over thirty-seven minutes, the album delivers enough to grip and hold, but the ending leaves the listener craving more sacrifice. Yet perhaps that’s its strength. It doesn’t drag; it delivers and departs, like frost that burns and then vanishes, lingering only in memory.
This debut feels like more than a statement. It feels like initiation. Unhallwoed arrive not as followers of threaded black metal paths, but as new vandals of that shrine, capable of both homage and reinvention. The fire of their black flame is sharp and controlled, precise in its scorch. It’s nearly perfect in execution. A chillingly beautiful invocation, a concise and unwavering vision of cold grandeur, and refuses to melt beneath scrutiny.
