Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 2012

Album Info / Review

Intro:
Burzum’s “Umskiptar,” released in 2012, arrived not as a triumphant return, but as another stark testament to Varg Vikernes’ singular, unyielding vision. Emerging from his years of incarceration, this album functions less as a collection of songs and more as a sonic manifestation of ancient Nordic lore and the raw, untamed spirit of the wilderness. “Umskiptar” translates to “The Great Change,” a fitting title for an album that delves into themes of transformation, both personal and societal, filtered through a lens of pagan philosophy and a profound, almost primal connection to the earth. The production is intentionally lo-fi, embracing a raw, unpolished aesthetic that amplifies the album’s inherent bleakness and sense of isolation. This is not an album designed for easy listening; it demands immersion, a willingness to confront its often-abrasive textures and hypnotic, repetitive structures.

Track Analysis:
“Umskiptar” is structured as a continuous sonic journey, with tracks flowing into one another, creating an immersive, almost ritualistic experience.

“Blóðstokkinn” (The Blood-Soaked) opens the album with a desolate, shimmering guitar riff that slowly builds in intensity, underpinned by a driving, yet surprisingly melodic bassline. The vocals, when they arrive, are a guttural roar, conveying a sense of ancient fury and primal struggle.

“For My Vargr” (For My Wolf) plunges into a more aggressive territory. The drumming is relentless, a thunderous onslaught that propels the track forward with a visceral energy. The guitar work here is sharp and biting, weaving dissonant melodies that evoke images of a harsh, unforgiving landscape.

“Feigð” (Doom) offers a brief respite, a more atmospheric piece characterized by a mournful, clean guitar melody. The sense of melancholy is palpable, hinting at the inevitable decay and sorrow that permeates the album’s themes.

“Galdra” (Magic) returns to a more tempestuous sound. The riff is repetitive and hypnotic, drawing the listener into a trance-like state. The vocals are more layered here, adding a strange, otherworldly quality.

“Svarte Hjerte” (Black Heart) is perhaps the album’s most overtly aggressive track. The blast beats are deafening, and the guitar riff is a relentless wall of sound. The raw, unfiltered aggression is unsettling and cathartic in equal measure.

“Til Hel og tilbake igjen” (To Hel and Back Again) is a lengthy, sprawling epic. It shifts dynamically, moving from moments of crushing brutality to passages of stark, almost ambient beauty. The spoken-word sections, delivered in a deep, resonant voice, further enhance the narrative and thematic depth.

“Elegí” (Elegy) provides another moment of introspective somberness. The clean guitar work is delicate and sorrowful, creating a poignant reflection on loss and mortality.

“MótiRískr” (Mother’s Fury) erupts with renewed ferocity. The riff is aggressive and driving, with the vocals returning to their raw, unadulterated power.

“Föddr Ok Éldr” (Born and Old) is a more melodic and expansive track. The guitar lines are more intricate, and the overall atmosphere is one of grand, sweeping vistas.

“Starfr” (Starry) is a relatively short but impactful piece, building to a crescendo of distorted guitars and powerful drumming.

“Frøya” is an instrumental piece that closes the album. It is more atmospheric and contemplative, featuring a clean, arpeggiated guitar melody that gradually fades into silence, leaving a lingering sense of unresolved tension and primal resonance.

Conclusion:
“Umskiptar” is a potent and uncompromising statement from Burzum. It is an album that eschews conventional song structures and polished production in favor of raw emotional expression and a deep, almost spiritual connection to its thematic core. The album’s power lies in its relentless intensity, its bleak beauty, and its unwavering commitment to Varg Vikernes’ unique artistic vision. While challenging and at times abrasive, it offers a profound and immersive experience for those willing to venture into its dark, ancient heart. It is a testament to the enduring power of primal expression in metal, a stark reminder of the untamed forces that can be channeled through distorted guitars and guttural vocals.

Rating: 4.2/5

Highlight Track: Til Hel og tilbake igjen

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 2020

Album Info / Review

Intro:
Burzum’s “Thulean Mysteries” emerges from the shadows, not as a typical metal release, but as a deeply personal and introspective sonic tapestry woven by Varg Vikernes. Recorded in prison, this album is less about overt aggression and more about a primal connection to nature and the self. It eschews traditional metal instrumentation for a more ambient and folk-influenced sound, a departure that will undoubtedly polarize listeners. The atmosphere is thick with a palpable sense of isolation, contemplation, and a yearning for a lost, untamed world. This is not an album to be passively consumed; it demands engagement with its sparse, often melancholic, soundscapes.

Track Analysis:
“The Ancient Path” opens the album with a droning, synthesized hum, gradually layered with what sounds like a primitive drum machine and a distant, mournful synth melody. It evokes the feeling of a solitary trek through a desolate, windswept landscape. The repetition is hypnotic, drawing the listener into a meditative state.

“The Dark Kingdom” introduces a more discernible, albeit still rudimentary, percussion. A simple, almost tribal beat underpins a series of layered, ethereal synth melodies that shift and evolve subtly. There’s a profound sense of vastness and ancientness here, like witnessing the aurora borealis in an empty northern sky.

“Lost in the Mist” is a masterclass in minimalist dread. A low, guttural synth tone pulsates like a heartbeat, punctuated by sparse, echoing percussive strikes. The melody, if it can be called that, is a series of dissonant, sustained notes that create a disorienting and unsettling emotional resonance.

“The Forest of My Mind” feels like a sonic representation of Verner’s internal world. The synth textures become more organic, with a swirling, almost woodwind-like quality. The rhythm is less defined, more of a percussive ebb and flow, mirroring the natural world’s unpredictable cadence.

“Echoes of the Past” leans heavily into a melancholic, almost elegiac tone. The synth melodies are more pronounced and sorrowful, weaving a narrative of loss and remembrance. The percussive elements are minimal, serving to punctuate the emotional weight of the synthesized lament.

“The Winter’s Embrace” is perhaps the most overtly bleak track. The dominant synth lines are icy and sharp, creating a chilling atmosphere. The percussive elements are sparse and percussive, like ice cracking underfoot. It’s a stark and unforgiving sonic depiction of a harsh, unforgiving environment.

“The Eternal Wanderer” offers a slight shift in mood, with a more driving, albeit still slow, rhythm. The synth melodies are more expansive and hopeful, suggesting a journey towards an unseen destination. There’s a sense of acceptance and resilience in its sonic architecture.

“Myriad of Reflections” returns to a more ambient and introspective space. The synth layers are complex and interwoven, creating a rich, albeit subdued, soundscape. The percussive elements are almost entirely absent, allowing the listener to fully immerse themselves in the sonic textures.

“The Journey to the Unknown” closes the album with a sense of unresolved contemplation. The synth melodies are haunting and lingering, fading in and out like distant memories. The percussive elements are a whisper, a final, fading echo.

Conclusion:
“Thulean Mysteries” is a challenging and unconventional album that defies easy categorization. It is an album born of isolation and introspection, and it wears those influences on its sleeve. While it may lack the sonic aggression typically associated with metal, it possesses a profound emotional depth and a unique atmospheric power. It is a testament to Vikernes’ ability to create compelling soundscapes with limited resources, and a fascinating glimpse into his artistic psyche. This is an album for those who appreciate ambient music, folk traditions, and a deeply personal, often somber, sonic journey.

Rating: 8/10

Highlight Track: The Forest of My Mind

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 2014

Album Info / Review

Intro:
Varg Vikernes, the architect of Burzum, returns with “The Ways of Yore,” an album that eschews the raw, primal aggression of his earlier works for a more introspective and melancholic sonic landscape. Released in 2014, this offering sees Vikernes delving deeper into the atmospheric and folk-infused territories he has been exploring in his post-prison material. “The Ways of Yore” is not an album for those seeking blast beats and guttural shrieks; instead, it presents a carefully curated collection of brooding soundscapes, echoing with the weight of ancient myth and personal reflection. The production is cleaner than many of Burzum’s earlier releases, allowing the intricate layers of instrumentation to breathe and resonate.

Track Analysis:
“The Ways of Yore” opens with the titular track, a somber acoustic piece that immediately sets the album’s introspective tone. The clean guitar melody is sparse and evocative, painting a picture of windswept landscapes and forgotten lore. The song gradually builds with a subtle synth pad, creating a haunting, almost ethereal atmosphere. “City of the Sun” shifts gears slightly, introducing a more pronounced, albeit still restrained, rhythmic element. The guitar work here exhibits a melancholic grandeur, with interwoven melodic lines that feel both ancient and strangely modern. The vocals, when they appear, are more spoken-word or chanted than screamed, adding to the narrative feel of the music.

“The Eyes of the Night” is a standout, showcasing Vikernes’ ability to craft truly captivating atmospheres. The track unfolds with a hypnotic, repetitive guitar riff that anchors the listener before layers of atmospheric synths and subtle percussion begin to swirl around it. There’s a palpable sense of yearning and desolation within its 6-minute runtime. “Heidra” is a more overtly folk-inspired piece. The acoustic guitar is central, accompanied by what sounds like a hurdy-gurdy or similar traditional instrument, lending it an authentic, almost medieval feel. The track is less about overt metal aggression and more about conjuring a specific time and place.

“The Lord of the Rings” is, predictably, a conceptual piece. It’s a slow-burning, atmospheric track that utilizes echoing clean guitars and a prominent, almost tribal drum beat. The vocal delivery is deep and resonant, evoking a sense of epic narrative, though without the bombast one might expect from the title. “You Are the Way” is another exploration of melancholic clean guitar melodies, this time with a more pronounced bassline providing a grounding presence. The track feels like a journey through a dark, ancient forest, with moments of subtle tension and release.

“The Light of the Evening” returns to the more ambient and synth-driven soundscapes. It’s a purely atmospheric piece, devoid of traditional metal instrumentation, focusing on creating a mood of quiet contemplation and fading light. “The Night of the Falling Stars” offers a slightly more aggressive edge, with a driving, yet still melodic, guitar riff. The drumming is more prominent here, providing a steady pulse, and the vocals are delivered with a more pronounced sense of melancholy. The track manages to be both engaging and deeply atmospheric. “The Sound of Silence” is a stark and beautiful rendition of the Simon & Garfunkel classic. Vikernes strips the song down to its emotional core, utilizing acoustic guitar and his distinctive vocal delivery to imbue it with a profound sense of loneliness and reflection. The arrangement is minimalist but incredibly effective.

Conclusion:
“The Ways of Yore” is a testament to Varg Vikernes’ evolving artistic vision. It is an album that demands patience and a willingness to immerse oneself in its carefully constructed sonic tapestry. While it may disappoint those expecting the raw fury of early Burzum, it offers a rich and rewarding experience for listeners who appreciate atmospheric black metal, folk influences, and introspective lyricism. The album is a journey through a landscape of ancient myth, personal reflection, and a profound sense of melancholy. It’s a mature and contemplative work that stands as a significant, if often overlooked, entry in the Burzum discography.

Rating: 8/10

Highlight Track: The Eyes of the Night

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 2013

Album Info / Review

Intro:
The glacial winds of Norway, often mythologized in black metal lore, find their most potent and desolate expression on Varg Vikernes’ 2011 offering, *Sol Austan, Mani Vestan*. Released during Vikernes’ incarceration, the album is a stark departure from the raw, lo-fi aggression of Burzum’s formative years, instead embracing a profoundly melancholic and ambient soundscape. This is not a record for headbanging; it is an immersion, a descent into the frozen heart of a solitary consciousness grappling with the vastness of nature and the quietude of isolation. *Sol Austan, Mani Vestan* translates to “Sun East, Moon West,” a title that perfectly encapsulates the album’s thematic duality: the enduring, albeit distant, warmth of the sun against the ever-present, cold allure of the moon.

Track Analysis:
“Dauði Baldrs” – A skeletal acoustic guitar melody, sparse and repetitive, forms the foundation, punctuated by Vikernes’ deep, resonant spoken-word passages. The vocal delivery is less a performance and more a somber recitation, evoking ancient sagas and a sense of profound loss. The absence of percussion amplifies the feeling of stillness, as if time itself has frozen.

“Hildr” – This track introduces a slightly more dynamic element with the addition of synthesizers, creating a layered, almost ethereal atmosphere. The synths weave in and out, sometimes mimicking the grandeur of orchestral arrangements, other times dissolving into shimmering textures. The central melodic motif remains hauntingly simple, yet it carries an immense emotional weight.

“Sol Austan” – The titular track is a masterclass in minimalist dread. A single, repetitive synth line, imbued with a palpable sense of yearning, forms the core. The spoken word here is more introspective, a contemplation of light and its fleeting presence. The arrangement is deliberately sparse, allowing every note and every word to resonate with the listener’s inner landscape.

“Naar Himmelen Faller” – A brief, instrumental interlude that serves as a bridge. The synth work here is more ambient, creating a sense of vast, empty space. It’s a moment of sonic decompression before plunging back into the album’s emotional core.

“Mani Vestan” – The album’s longest and perhaps most impactful piece. The synthesizers are more prominent, building a rich tapestry of sound that is both beautiful and unsettling. There’s a sense of slow, inexorable movement, like a glacier inching across a frozen tundra. The spoken word is delivered with a quiet intensity, a lament for a world that feels both ancient and irrevocably lost. The track’s ebb and flow creates a deeply immersive experience, drawing the listener into its desolate beauty.

“Lysenes Sang” – A return to the acoustic guitar, but with a slightly more developed melody than “Dauði Baldrs.” The synth layers are present but more subdued, acting as a soft cushion for the guitar’s fragile narrative. The spoken word is more hopeful, or perhaps resigned, a quiet acceptance of the cyclical nature of existence.

Conclusion:
*Sol Austan, Mani Vestan* is not an album for the casual listener. It demands patience, introspection, and a willingness to embrace its profound melancholy. It is a testament to Vikernes’ ability to conjure potent emotions from the simplest of elements. The absence of traditional black metal instrumentation strips away the genre’s usual signifiers, leaving behind a raw, unfiltered emotional core. This is music for quiet contemplation, for staring out at a desolate landscape, for confronting the vast emptiness within and without. It is an album that lingers long after the final notes fade, a haunting echo of a solitary voice in the wilderness.

Rating: 4/5

Highlight Track: Mani Vestan

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 1994

Album Info / Review

Intro:
Hvis Lyset Tar Oss. The title itself, a stark pronouncement in Norwegian, translates to “If the Light Takes Us,” an ominous prelude to the sonic abyss Varg Vikernes conjures. Released in 1996, this album stands as a cornerstone of Burzum’s early, raw black metal output, a chilling testament to isolation and a profound, almost primal connection to the untamed Norwegian wilderness. Recorded in the suffocating confines of Grieghallen, its production is deliberately lo-fi, a sonic fog that shrouds the inherent melodies and amplifies the pervasive sense of desolation. This is not an album designed for casual listening; it demands immersion, a descent into a frozen, introspective landscape where the silence between notes is as potent as the distorted fury.

Track Analysis:
“Det Som En Gang Var” (What Once Was): The album opens with a droning, almost ambient synth passage, a spectral whisper before the storm. This segues into a blast-beat driven assault, Vikernes’ vocals a guttural rasp, barely human. The guitars churn with a raw, unpolished distortion, creating a thick, oppressive wall of sound. Yet, beneath the aggression, a melancholic melody fights for air, a fragile thread of beauty woven into the fabric of chaos. The tempo shifts are abrupt, mirroring the unpredictable fury of nature.

“Kaimeratos” (The Coming of Death): This track plunges into an even deeper well of despair. The riffing is hypnotic, repetitive, and utterly captivating. It’s a slow, trudging march, punctuated by moments of frenetic energy. The synth textures return, not as a respite, but as an additional layer of chilling atmosphere, like the wind whistling through barren trees. Vikernes’ vocal delivery here is less frenzied, more a mournful lament, a primal scream of existential dread.

“Svarte Smar” (Black Heart): If “Kaimeratos” was a march, “Svarte Smar” is a desperate flight. The tempo accelerates, the drumming becomes more complex, and the guitars unleash a torrent of dissonant chords. The synth work is more prominent here, weaving eerie, almost operatic melodies that contrast sharply with the raw aggression of the vocals and guitars. It’s a dynamic shift that showcases Vikernes’ ability to craft intricate, albeit bleak, soundscapes. The guitar solo, if it can be called that, is a chaotic flurry of notes, more an expression of raw emotion than technical prowess.

“Hvis Lyset Tar Oss” (If the Light Takes Us): The title track is the album’s sprawling centerpiece, a nearly fifteen-minute epic that embodies the album’s core themes. It begins with a subdued, almost acoustic guitar passage, a moment of fragile peace. This is gradually overtaken by a slow, crushing riff, a monolithic presence that builds and recedes like a tide. The synth melodies are more ethereal here, creating a sense of vastness and otherworldly beauty. Vikernes’ vocals are sparse, often fading into the sonic tapestry, allowing the instrumental passages to speak volumes. The track ebbs and flows, a journey through darkness and fleeting moments of luminous despair, culminating in a final, fading synth drone that leaves the listener adrift in the silence.

Conclusion:
Hvis Lyset Tar Oss is a monument to atmospheric black metal, a raw and uncompromising exploration of darkness, isolation, and a profound communion with the primal forces of nature. Its deliberately unpolished production, while alienating to some, is its greatest strength, imbuing the music with a visceral authenticity. Vikernes masterfully blends crushing aggression with haunting melodies and ethereal synth passages, creating a sonic landscape that is both terrifying and strangely beautiful. This is an album that doesn’t just get under your skin; it burrows into your very soul, leaving an indelible mark of icy desolation.

Rating: 9.5/10

Highlight Track: Hvis Lyset Tar Oss

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 1999

Album Info / Review

Intro:
Varg Vikernes’ return to the Burzum moniker after his release from prison, “Hlidskjalf,” is a starkly different beast from the raw, atmospheric black metal that defined his earlier work. This album plunges into a realm of synthesized soundscapes, eschewing guitars and drums for a meticulously crafted sonic tapestry that feels both ancient and alien. It’s a testament to Vikernes’ unwavering artistic vision, a solitary exploration of sonic textures that prioritizes mood and introspection over conventional aggression. The title itself, referencing Odin’s throne from which he surveys the nine worlds, hints at the vast, contemplative scope of this work. “Hlidskjalf” is not an album to be passively consumed; it demands active engagement, a surrender to its glacial pacing and its overwhelming sense of isolation.

Track Analysis:
“Dauði Baldrs” opens with a low, rumbling synth drone, a foundation upon which layers of unsettling, almost liturgical chants begin to coalesce. The vocalizations are guttural and mournful, evoking the primal fear of the impending doom of the gods. There’s a disquieting sense of ritualistic chanting, as if an ancient rite is being performed in a desolate cavern. The synthesized textures are rich and textured, creating a sense of immense, echoing space.

“Hlidskjalf” itself is a more overtly melodic, albeit still somber, piece. A melancholic synthesized string section carries the primary melody, imbued with a profound sense of yearning. Beneath this, a subtle, pulsing bass line provides a grounding element, while ethereal, wordless vocals drift in and out, adding to the album’s spectral atmosphere. The track builds gradually, almost imperceptibly, creating a sense of immense, slow-moving dread.

“Fallen” shifts towards a more percussive, albeit still electronic, feel. A driving, synthesized beat emerges, reminiscent of tribal drumming, though executed with an artificial precision. Over this, a distorted, almost robotic vocal delivery adds a layer of aggression, a fleeting echo of Burzum’s past. The sound design here is particularly interesting, with metallic clangs and scraping noises interspersed, creating a harsh, industrial undertone.

“Reconquering the Ancient” is perhaps the most overtly “epic” track. It features sweeping, orchestral synth passages that strive for grandeur, but are always undercut by a pervasive melancholy. The vocalizations here are more chanting-like, with a sense of defiant pronouncement. The sheer scale of the synthesized arrangements, while undeniably impressive in their construction, can feel overwhelming, bordering on bombastic.

“The Gates of Hel” returns to a more minimalist approach. A stark, echoing synth melody dominates, accompanied by sparse, percussive hits that feel like the slow, deliberate footsteps of an approaching entity. The atmosphere is one of profound darkness and emptiness, a sonic representation of the underworld. The lack of traditional instrumentation amplifies the feeling of desolation.

“The Arrival of the Shadow Beast” is a more abstract and experimental piece. Layers of dissonant synth tones and distorted vocal fragments create a chaotic and unsettling sonic collage. It’s a challenging track, deliberately abrasive, and serves to disrupt the album’s otherwise more structured, albeit bleak, melodies. The sound design here is intentionally jarring, with sharp, piercing synth notes and guttural vocalizations that feel like primal screams.

“The Triumph of Death” offers a final, somber reflection. A slow, mournful synth melody, reminiscent of a funeral dirge, permeates the track. The vocalizations are hushed and resigned, a quiet acceptance of mortality. The overall effect is one of profound sorrow and an almost serene finality. The synthesized strings swell and recede, creating a sense of vast, empty space that envelops the listener.

Conclusion:
“Hlidskjalf” is a radical departure for Burzum, a testament to Varg Vikernes’ unyielding commitment to his artistic vision. It’s an album that exists entirely within its own sonic universe, a meticulously crafted world of synthesizers and somber vocals. While it may alienate fans seeking the raw aggression of his earlier black metal output, it offers a compelling and deeply introspective listening experience for those willing to immerse themselves in its unique, synthesized gloom. This is not an album for headbanging; it’s an album for contemplating the void, for meditating on the ancient and the eternal. It is a solitary, almost monastic, sonic creation that stands as a singular achievement in its own right, a testament to the power of electronic soundscapes to evoke profound emotional responses.

Rating: 8/10

Highlight Track: Dauði Baldrs

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 2011

Album Info / Review

Intro:
Varg Vikernes’ “From The Depths Of Darkness,” released in 2000, is not merely an album; it’s a sonic excavation. Emerging from the self-imposed isolation of his prison sentence, this collection of re-recorded early Burzum material acts as a spectral echo from the nascent days of Norwegian black metal, filtered through the stark realities of incarceration. Far from a polished retrospective, “From The Depths Of Darkness” is raw, unvarnished, and steeped in a palpable sense of melancholic isolation, a testament to Vikernes’ singular, often controversial, artistic vision. The production is intentionally lo-fi, echoing the primitive aesthetics of his 90s output, yet possesses a clarity that allows the grim atmosphere to seep through with unnerving precision. This is not an album for casual listening; it demands an immersion into its desolate soundscapes.

Track Analysis:
“From The Depths Of Darkness” presents a curated selection of re-recordings, primarily drawing from the “Burzum” (often referred to as “Aske” or “Immortal”) and “Det som engang var” sessions.

“War” (originally from *Burzum*) is reborn with a slightly more defined, albeit still cavernous, production. The iconic tremolo-picked riff retains its hypnotic, almost dazed quality, but the bassline, while still rudimentary, has a more prominent, rumbling presence. The drumming, programmed and deliberately simplistic, reinforces the relentless, marching tempo, evoking the feeling of an inevitable, grim march.

“The Crying Orc” (originally from *Det som engang var*) is presented with a chilling, almost childlike simplicity in its melody. The re-recording highlights the underlying dissonance, the melody twisting and contorting like a dying lament. The sparse instrumentation, primarily guitar and programmed drums, creates an unsettling sense of vast emptiness.

“Once Emperor” (originally from *Burzum*) feels like a spectral manifestation of its original form. The guitar tone is sharper, more biting, cutting through the ambient textures like shards of ice. The vocal performance, a guttural rasp, is less raw than some of Vikernes’ earlier work, but carries a profound weariness, a lament for a lost kingdom.

“Lost Wisdom” (originally from *Det som engang var*) is arguably one of the album’s most potent tracks. The re-recording amplifies the inherent bleakness of the original. The main riff, a slow, crushing descent, is delivered with a deliberate, almost agonizing pace. The programmed drums, while still basic, feel more impactful, each strike a hammer blow against the listener’s sanity. The layers of distorted guitar create a suffocating sonic blanket.

“Han som reiste” (originally from *Det som engang var*) showcases a slightly more melodic, yet still profoundly melancholic, side. The guitar lines weave a tapestry of sorrow, punctuated by the stark rhythm section. This track feels like a solitary journey through a desolate, frozen landscape.

“Svarte kulde” (originally from *Det som engang var*) embodies the album’s namesake. The coldness is not just thematic; it’s etched into the very fabric of the sound. The tremolo picking is relentless, creating a blizzard of sound, while the underlying bassline provides a subterranean rumble.

“Jesus’ Tod” (originally from *Burzum*) is a stark, almost brutal reinterpretation. The pacing is deliberate, the riffing heavy and suffocating. The vocal performance is particularly raw and pained here, conveying a sense of utter despair.

“Thulêan Mysteries” (originally from *Det som engang var*) is an instrumental piece that swells with a primal, almost paganistic energy. The guitar melodies are cyclical and hypnotic, building a sense of ritualistic invocation. The production emphasizes the atmospheric qualities, allowing the listener to drift within its sonic embrace.

“Loke” (originally from *Burzum*) closes the album with a sense of grim finality. The riffing is aggressive and driving, yet imbued with a pervasive sense of doom. The programmed drums provide a relentless, almost mechanical pulse, driving the track towards its inevitable conclusion.

Conclusion:
“From The Depths Of Darkness” is a testament to Burzum’s enduring, albeit controversial, artistic legacy. It is a journey back to the foundational elements of the band’s sound, stripped bare and re-presented with a chilling clarity. The album’s strength lies in its unwavering commitment to atmosphere, its raw production, and the palpable sense of isolation that permeates every note. While not a revelation in terms of new material, it offers a potent, distilled essence of Burzum’s early black metal explorations, a grim and compelling listen for those drawn to the darker, more introspective corners of extreme music. It is an album that reflects the stark confines from which it was born, a sonic testament to the enduring power of creative expression even in the face of profound adversity.

Rating: 4/5

Highlight Track: Lost Wisdom

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 1996

Album Info / Review

Intro:
Burzum’s *Filosofem*, unleashed upon an unsuspecting world in 1996, stands as a stark monument to Varg Vikernes’ singular, often disturbing, artistic vision. Emerging from the Norwegian black metal scene’s nascent, and at times, violent, crucible, this album transcends mere genre categorization. It is a primal scream, a melancholic lament, and a philosophical treatise woven into a tapestry of raw, unvarnished sound. Recorded entirely in a dungeon-like prison cell, the album’s genesis imbues its sonic landscape with an oppressive, almost claustrophobic atmosphere, a testament to the isolation that birthed it. *Filosofem* is not an album to be passively consumed; it demands engagement, a willingness to descend into its sonic abyss and confront the desolation and introspection it so powerfully articulates.

Track Analysis:
“Burzum” – The album opens with a stark, repetitive guitar riff, akin to a mantra of despair. The drums are primitive, almost tribal, a relentless, unyielding pulse. Vikernes’ vocals are a guttural rasp, a primal shriek that scrapes against the raw production. The song builds slowly, a creeping dread that permeates the listener’s consciousness. The absence of melodic complexity is a deliberate choice, forcing focus onto the sheer textural power and emotional weight.

“Decrepitude I (Echoes of the Fallen)” – This track shifts gears, introducing a more atmospheric, almost ambient quality. Synthesizers, often maligned in black metal, are employed here with a haunting, ethereal grace. They create vast sonic spaces, evoking images of desolate, windswept landscapes. The guitar work is more restrained, allowing the synth melodies to weave a spell of profound sadness. The vocal performance remains raw but carries a more profound sense of yearning.

“Ea, Lord of the Deeps” – Here, the signature Burzum sound reasserts itself with brutal force. The tempo picks up, driven by blast beats and a ferocious, distorted guitar riff that feels like an ancient, untamed beast. The vocals are a torrent of black metal ferocity, yet there’s an underlying, almost shamanistic chant that adds a layer of ritualistic intensity. The song is a sonic maelstrom, a cathartic release of primal energy.

“Decrepitude II (Goodbye to Humanity)” – A stark contrast to the preceding track, this is perhaps the album’s most overtly melancholic piece. A clean, arpeggiated guitar melody forms the core, dripping with a profound sense of loss and resignation. The synthesizers return, creating a mournful, almost funeral procession of sound. Vikernes’ vocals are more spoken-word than sung, a whispered lament that carries the weight of existential despair. The track feels like a final, heartbroken farewell.

“Rundgang (The Dance of the Gloomy Ones)” – This track embodies the album’s title, a “philosophical poem” set to music. The tempo is slow and deliberate, the guitar riff repetitive and hypnotic. The atmosphere is one of brooding introspection. The vocals are a layered, distorted chant, creating a sense of communal, yet isolated, suffering. The track builds and recedes like a tide of darkness, leaving the listener adrift in its vast emptiness.

“Time Immemorial” – The album concludes with a lengthy, almost ambient piece that eschews traditional song structure. Layers of distorted guitar feedback, ethereal synth pads, and a slow, plodding drum beat create a soundscape of immense, timeless desolation. It’s an exploration of sonic textures, a final descent into the abstract, leaving the listener with a lingering sense of the infinite and the void.

Conclusion:
*Filosofem* is a challenging, yet ultimately rewarding, listen. It is an album that strips away all pretense, offering a raw and unfiltered glimpse into the depths of human despair and philosophical contemplation. The production, intentionally lo-fi and oppressive, serves as a crucial element, amplifying the emotional weight of the music. While Varg Vikernes’ personal history casts a long shadow over his work, to dismiss *Filosofem* on these grounds alone would be to ignore a significant and influential artifact of the black metal genre. It is a testament to the power of extreme music to articulate profound, albeit often dark, truths, and its influence continues to resonate.

Rating: 9/10

Highlight Track: Decrepitude II (Goodbye to Humanity)

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 2011

Album Info / Review

Intro:
“Fallen” from Burzum, released in 2011, arrives as a stark, somber testament to Varg Vikernes’ singular, unvarnished vision. Emerging from the shadow of his previous prison sentence, this album eschews the raw, primal fury of early black metal for a more introspective, melodic, and yet no less bleak, sonic landscape. It is a record steeped in the cold, unforgiving beauty of Norwegian nature, filtered through a mind grappling with isolation and a profound, often unsettling, worldview. The production is cleaner than much of Burzum’s output, allowing the intricate guitar work and the melancholic atmosphere to breathe, though it retains a certain rawness that prevents it from ever feeling polished or accessible in a conventional sense. “Fallen” is not an album designed to appease, but rather to immerse the listener in a specific, potent emotional and philosophical state.

Track Analysis:
“Fra Verden Tre” opens the album with a haunting, clean guitar melody, a mournful arpeggio that immediately establishes the melancholic tone. The drums enter with a restrained, almost tribal beat, before the distorted guitars cascade in, creating a wall of sound that is both heavy and surprisingly delicate. The vocals, a signature guttural growl, are delivered with a sense of resigned despair, a lament rather than an outright scream. “Jeg Går Til Mine Gamle Fjell” shifts gears, introducing a more driving, albeit still mid-paced, rhythm. The guitar riff is a powerful, repetitive motif that burrows into the listener’s consciousness, underscored by a bassline that provides a solid, resonant foundation. The track builds in intensity, with layers of atmospheric keyboards subtly weaving through the distorted guitars, adding a sense of vastness. “Blodhemn” is one of the album’s more aggressive moments, with a faster tempo and a more ferocious vocal delivery. The riffs here possess a sharp, biting edge, reminiscent of earlier Burzum, but still tempered by the album’s overall somber mood. The solo is not virtuosic but serves its purpose, adding a chaotic, desperate flourish. “Kveld” returns to a more atmospheric and introspective territory. The clean guitar passages are particularly evocative, painting sonic landscapes of desolate fjords and windswept plains. The distorted sections are less about aggression and more about creating a suffocating sense of dread. “Homeward” is an instrumental track that leans heavily into ambient textures. Synthesizers create a vast, echoing space, punctuated by sparse, melancholic guitar notes. It feels like a moment of quiet contemplation, a brief respite before the album’s final descent. “Valen” is a return to the album’s core sound, featuring a powerful, lumbering riff and Vikernes’ signature vocal delivery. The track possesses a hypnotic quality, drawing the listener into its dark embrace. The keyboard elements are more prominent here, adding a spectral, almost ethereal layer to the otherwise heavy instrumentation. “Morgen” is the album’s closing track, an instrumental that reprises themes from “Fra Verden Tre,” but with a slightly more hopeful, albeit still tinged with sadness, undertone. The clean guitar melody returns, but this time it feels like a journey towards a distant, uncertain dawn. The ambient textures swell, creating a sense of closure, though not necessarily a happy one.

Conclusion:
“Fallen” stands as a mature, albeit still uncompromising, statement from Burzum. It showcases a refinement of Vikernes’ established sound, prioritizing atmosphere and melodicism alongside the inherent darkness. While it may not possess the raw, unadulterated ferocity that defined some of his earlier work, it offers a deeper, more nuanced exploration of his bleak aesthetic. The album is a cohesive journey through desolation, beauty, and a profound sense of existential contemplation. It is a record that demands patience and rewards attentive listening, revealing its intricate layers and emotional weight with each subsequent pass. “Fallen” is a powerful reminder of Burzum’s unique ability to craft music that is both deeply personal and universally resonant in its evocation of primal emotions.

Rating: 8.5/10

Highlight Track: Jeg Går Til Mine Gamle Fjell

Genre : Black Metal / Ambient

Release : 1993

Album Info / Review

Intro:
Det Som Engang Var, the second full-length offering from Norwegian iconoclast Varg Vikernes, emerges from the shadows of early 90s black metal like a frostbitten spectre. Released in 1993, this album represents a crucial evolutionary step for Burzum, shedding some of the raw, almost demo-like rawness of its predecessor for a more defined, albeit still primal, sonic landscape. It’s a journey into the desolate, the ancient, and the deeply introspective, a soundscape forged in the crucible of Norwegian wilderness and a burgeoning, controversial ideology. This is not an album to be passively consumed; it demands active engagement with its bleak beauty and challenging atmosphere.

Track Analysis:
“Lost Wisdom”
The album opens with a sonic tremor. The tremolo-picked guitar riff, drenched in reverb and distortion, immediately establishes a sense of cold, relentless forward motion. Vikernes’ vocal delivery, a guttural rasp, feels less like a performance and more like an exorcism. The drumming, while simple, is propulsive, providing a tribalistic backbone. The mid-section introduces a slightly more melodic, yet still dissonant, guitar passage that hints at the melodic undertones that will become more prominent later in Burzum’s discography, but here it’s steeped in an overwhelming sense of despair.

“Svarte Troner”
This track plunges deeper into the abyss. The tempo shifts, allowing for a more brooding, almost doomy atmosphere to seep in. The guitar work becomes more layered, with a prominent, mournful lead melody weaving through the crushing rhythm. The vocals are more drawn-out, almost chanting, adding to the ritualistic feel. The sheer weight of the sound is palpable, creating an oppressive, yet strangely captivating, sonic environment.

“Han Som Hater Allting”
The title translates to “He Who Hates Everything,” and the music embodies this sentiment with chilling efficacy. The pace quickens, returning to a more aggressive, blast-beat driven attack. However, even in its ferocity, there’s an underlying melancholy. The guitar riffs are sharp and biting, but the underlying chord progressions carry a distinct sense of sorrow. The production, while still raw, allows for a greater clarity of instrumentation, making the impact of each distorted chord more profound.

“Key to the Gate”
This instrumental piece serves as a stark contrast and a vital breather. Gone are the vocals, replaced by a haunting, clean guitar melody. The atmosphere shifts from aggression to introspective melancholy. The arpeggiated notes echo with a profound sense of loneliness, painting a sonic picture of vast, empty landscapes. It’s a moment of quiet contemplation before the storm.

“Det Som Engang Var”
The title track is an epic in its own right. It builds gradually, starting with a more subdued, atmospheric guitar riff before erupting into a powerful, driving force. The vocals are at their most impassioned here, conveying a desperate plea or a furious lament. The interplay between the aggressive sections and the more melodic, almost sorrowful passages is masterful, showcasing Vikernes’ developing ability to craft dynamic and emotionally resonant black metal. The sheer length of the track allows for a thorough exploration of its thematic weight.

“Når Mørket Faller”
The album closer. This track feels like a final, lingering descent into the darkness. The tempo is generally slower, more deliberate, with a palpable sense of resignation. The guitar work is heavy and crushing, but there’s a lingering, ethereal quality to the melodies. The vocals are more distant, almost whispered at times, as if fading into the ether. It leaves the listener with a profound sense of emptiness and a chilling echo of what has transpired.

Conclusion:
Det Som Engang Var is a pivotal work in the Burzum discography and a significant artifact of early Norwegian black metal. It showcases Varg Vikernes’ evolution from a raw, unrefined sound to a more focused, albeit still intensely bleak, artistic statement. The album’s strength lies in its unwavering commitment to atmosphere, its exploration of themes of desolation and existential despair, and its surprisingly melodic undertones that are always subservient to the overwhelming sense of darkness. While the production remains lo-fi by contemporary standards, it is precisely this rawness that imbues the album with its primal power and authenticity. It’s a testament to the ability of extreme music to evoke profound emotional responses through sheer sonic force and thematic depth.

Rating: 4.5/5

Highlight Track: Det Som Engang Var