KRIEG

Dawn barely lights the way as the grizzled sociopath stares with dead eyes through a filthy window at the harsh winter day, all the while a steel box with wheels moves the flesh of lifeless humanity down the street of a decaying city. That is the image created when KRIEG's "The Isolationist" blares through ear buds. Imperial is a master of the sonic conveyance of dread and hopelessness. "The Isolation" proves the point yet again.

The new full-length brings all that freezing grimness to the fore with a preponderance of blasting black metal harshness. It is bolstered by an excellent Sanford Parker recording that pumps subsonic tones through the a mix defined by eardrum lacerating guitars, thick and ominous bass lines, and drums that anchor the compositions with pummeling thuds and crackling snare hits. Imperial knows what he's doing and it always comes across in a way that leaves no room for mortal conceptions of life, much less faith in mankind. Titles like "No Future", "Decaying Inhalations", and "Depakote" offer nothing in the way of counterargument.

Though a good portion of the album is defined by driving tempos spiked with dissonant tones and Imperial's anguished wails, more than a few devilish details work to expand the sound, particularly during the album's second half. Beginning with the two-and-a-half minute drum tumbles and drone of "Religion III", mid-tempo and seething songs like "Blue of Noon" and "Decaying Inhalations" offer peculiar, yet appealing, riffs and the constant tremors that seems to define the album. The latter track even moves into spaces inhabited by sounds heard on later NACHTMYSTIUM albums, although only in a vague sense. "Dead Windows" shocks the listen back into the overt reality of a desperate existence by slashing and burning for the final three-and-half minutes or so.

"The Isolationist" then is demonstrative of the heart and soul of the USBM movement, at least those veteran acts that defined it from the very beginning. Be thankful that bands like KRIEG continue to spread the plague. Said bands often put to shame the numerous pretenders that scurry like rats out of the sewers in an attempt to catch up with any one of a handful of BM Pied Pipers.