“Few bands paint a picture quite as Midnight does. But, in this case, it’s no ordinary picture. It’s Hell. Even more than the ancient works of Venom, Midnight paints a blood-red scene of violence on a black canvas. I not only can feel it but I can smell it. The flickering reds and oranges burn to the touch and the air is stifling and uncomfortable. The fragrance is a mix of unwashed crotch and dogshit burning in a paper bag. When you pass through the large, creaking door to the back of this stinking asylum, your sweat solidifies to your face. From red hot to freezing cold, Hell’s non-smoking area in the rear is black and brown, with the stench of wet earth and decomposition. Yet, no matter where you are in this underground venue, the walls reverberate with the black rasps, fiery guitars, rumbling bass, and pounding drums of the lone devil, Athenar.” Welcome home.
