Review: Bull of Apis Bull of Bronze – The Fractal Ouroboros
Bull of Apis Bull of Bronze have returned with something majestic, an album that feels at once expansive and razor-sharp, political and mythic, terrifying and strangely empowering. From the first tremor of “Trophy” to the final shudder of “Ekstasis, Enstasis, and The Fractal Ouroboros”, this is their most complete incantation to date.
The album spans seven movements, each with its own breath, its own weight. The opening numbers build slowly but inexorably, ambiance braided with harsh guitar tone, drums that bruise then guide. Ambience is not filler here, but prelude: space in the sound that allows the collapse into black metal intensity to hit harder. As each track unfolds, the listener is drawn between pathed destruction and lingering echoes, as bloodied chants and harsh shouts become part of a wider spiritual geometry. The middle tracks pull away from fury toward sorrow and reflection, atmospheric interludes that temper the ferocity with existential grief.
Vocals are both ritual and sermon. The harshness carries anguish but also refusal. They do not plead, they indict. The instrumental framework supports this: guitars swarm and falter, synths coil like serpents, drums alternate between thunderous assault and slow march. On “Suffocate O Earthen Lungs; They Now Lungs of Ash,” the riffs bite sharp, the blast beats punish, yet there are moments of fragile melody, moments that make the darkness hurt beautifully.
The political dimension is not accessory, but is the backbone. The band declare themselves in opposition to oppression, fascism, white supremacy; their activism pulses in the poetry of their lyrics. There is no false neutrality. This is black metal that sees the world as it is and refuses to look away. Listening to the album feels like witnessing a stand, a challenge, a catharsis. The message doesn’t drown in the music, it is woven through it, in every howl and whisper.
Production is dense but articulate. There is air between the notes, clarity even in chaos. The ambient layers breathe; distortion is purposeful, never muddy. The pacing – it’s over an hour of music after all – could have broken under its own ambition, but instead it holds, moving fluidly so that each long track justifies its length. The closing title track is sprawling, nearly fifteen minutes, but never indulgent; it encapsulates the ritualistic ascent of the entire album.
If there is a flaw, it lies in its weight. The heaviness, the density, can become exhausting. Some listeners may find the ambient passages too frequent, the slower build-ups too patient. At times you yearn for more abrupt contrast, some sharper peaks. But these are small hesitations in what is otherwise an imposing work.
On balance, “The Fractal Ouroboros” is fierce, uncompromising, deeply felt. It transcends simple genre expectations, melding political outrage, occult ritual, ambient grief and black metal savagery into something that lingers like smoke after burn. This is not just an album: it is a fractal, with every piece reflecting the whole, every cycle ending in renewal, every ruin seeding rebirth.