The roots of black metal are inextricably tied to Satan's two horns and his forked tail. This was largely a product of pimply-faced teenage boys who were more like the original incels than any Alistair Crowley worshiping modern-day warlocks. Forged in the frigid skies of Norway, the second-wave of black metal found more allegiance with the soaring fjords of the Scandinavian coast and their rolling hills of evergreen alpine forests.  It was about escape: once the churches were burnt down, where else could you turn but to nature itself?  Thus was the major challenge of growing up just south of the Arctic lights.  Believing in Satan meant begrudgingly believing in God, but what's more 'kvlt' than saying both of these concepts are as real or relevant as Santa and his mythical elves putting together PlayStations and LEGO sets in some north pole sweat factory?  What is real, however, is the thirty plus years of brutal rule by Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, who was eventually executed by firing squad, alongside his wife, on Christmas day in 1989. Which seems as good a place as any to start a review of Bucharest black metal band WORMGOD's new release "Where Old Curses Rest".

WORMGOD specialize in the big, spacious black metal that legendary heavy-weights IMMORTAL and ENSLAVED made their bread and butter.  The guitars are rich and full, layered over the rhythmic interplay of the bass and drums.  Occasionally sections of clean guitar or keyboard swells and treatments give the 39-minute journey periodic respites from the darkened aural onslaught.  First song "My Blood" starts off with a brutal blackened lesson in speed, setting the tone for an album that seems spawned by the shots ordered by Ceausescu during that fateful day in Timisoara. Revolutions are spawned by desperation and anger, both emotions successfully conjured up by WORMGOD. Second song "Blossom of Fear," one of the strongest tracks on the album, starts off with spacious, tremolo picked guitars and devolves into an ambient display of what sounds like a simple keyboard riff, but what may very well be a heavily-affected guitar.  Part of the beauty of this album is how these sounds do just that: you're never sure where they are coming from, and they tend to move in and out of each other, much like the bodies crowding a city square, arms raised in revolt.

The album's midsection serves as its muscular core.  "Failure's Reign" and "Icon of Sin" showcase the acidic, rancid vocals of Octav Necrosis.  It's as if you can feel the bloody tissue of his lungs being spit in your direction as he growls over the (dis)tasteful compositions arranged by Vladimir Toma. Two and half minutes into "Failure's Reign" and the guitars rip into a glorious finger-tapped melody over a driving, relentless two-chord groove until Octav enters back in to bring the song to a close. Confident and intense, it's a great example of how black metal can transcend the genre itself and become something that seems almost visceral and organic.  "Icon of Sin" is an ENSLAVED-like tune filled with infectious riffing, well-chosen keyboards, and vocal hooks.  "The cure must have poisoned my mind!" screams Necrosis. The title is repeated over and over during the song's outro, a crescendo of desperation that sounds like the soundtrack for the bullets being fired as they traveled from the rifles' barrels towards the bound bodies of Nicolae Ceausescu and his wife.

It's the final song "Post-Self Apocalypse" that brings this vision of hopelessness and pain to a close.  The song starts off over a bed of strings and a cleanly picked guitar line, before the pedal is stomped and a swarm of minor-chords sweep in like tanks barreling around a street corner. A nasty, mid-tempo melody supports the plaintive wails of Necrosis, as the song enters a blackened heart of anguish. During the song's second-act, it collapses from full on blast beats into a two-chord ambient ambush of emotive squalls and drops the listener off at the end. Like a post-communist Romania, the listener is left pondering the experience they just had and wondering where that experience will ultimately lead.

"Where Old Curses Rest" is an accomplished, confident piece of black metal artistry.  While in some ways the album might be a little rough around the edges, it's quite evident that moving forward WORMGOD might have some classics ready to unleash upon the world. "Where Old Curses Rest" is the sound of triumph. While steeped in pain and anguish, the band and its listeners are left standing, fists in air, a spirit of liberation rising, triumphantly, over the bodies of the dead.