“So it was with great portent that night fell upon Reginald’s Emporium of the Fine Arts, cloaking Chicago in a sickly sodium glow. Just on the edge of Chinatown, next to a bombed-out taco joint under the Green Line, brutality was brewing, summoned in darkness from the ragged edges of the Earth. And as the sun set, than the venue was assailed by… no one at all.” The abyss is a lonely place.
“Atmospheric black metal. Some run to the hills, disgusted by the label, while others embrace it with an incredible fervor, an addict in desperate need of his next fix. Part of the beauty, or tedium, of the ‘atmospheric’ label is its elusiveness. Ranging from one-man bedroom-studio synth-heavy releases to six-piece major-label indie-black-digeridoo extravaganzas and everything in between, I never really know what freakish concoction awaits.” Life is like a box of kvlt chocolates.
