DoomedA few years ago I reviewed this one man project’s second album of starkly despairing doom-death metal. Pierre Laube from Germany is the creative force behind Doomed, overseeing all aspects of artistic direction. Multi-instrumentalist, writer, layout designer and cover creator the man certainly is a talented individual. The art work adorning has the theme of a sickly dirty green backdrop with various silhouetted characters scrambling upon a tormented likewise silhouetted head. The type face used on the titles is difficult to read in places and all that coupled to his unique ability to write doom-death monsters means you have to take everything into consideration and not just the music.

With seven tunes clocking over 50 minutes, this is a sprawling and arduous sonic journey that will melt your mind and devour your soul, if you let it. A distorted monastic chant starts the opening track of “When Hope Disappear” before a deep growl and punishing riff soaks into your head. Pace is slow as expected, with haunting and drifting melodies creating a Katatonia like style I suggested in my review of the previous album. The glaring melodies are often superseded by monochromatic deathly dirges of violence. That violence is slow, tortured and painful as “In My Own Abyss” (also the title of the last album) with its snare drum marching style and some really beastly vocals. The song slithers along, grimily and toxically infecting every inch of your head.

“The Last Meal” starts slow but is jolted by a sudden blast that disappears as quick as it arrived. The structure is strange, schizoid, and manic, the tune is laboured in parts but then contrasts with the behemothic doom sludge style. Is it possible to enjoy albums like this or does one endure them as some form of cathartic release, certainly the album isn’t for a jolly night with your mates, more appropriate to wallow in self pity, where deranged melodies traumatise the listener with the sauntering pace and deviant harmonies. This album seems darker, more sinister and mournful than the previous release, a sign of the mood at the time of writing, “Our Ruin Silhouettes” is a driving dirge, with soulful aggression married to despondent threnodies.

(8/10 Martin Harris)