Beaucoup de groupes, dans le black metal notamment, se vantent de planter leur membre dans la fente de la luxure mais en définitive, ils sont bien peu à parvenir à auréoler leur art d'une couche collante de stupre. Aere Aeternus fait partie de cette minorité. De sa première pénétration longue durée, que précédaient une démo (Lammoth conçue en 1997 !) et un split, résonne le râle d'un million de femmes prises d'une quinte de jouissance. Pour une fois, le visuel exprime justement le contenu dont il se veut l'écrin. Humanity Needs No Funeral a quelque chose d'un derelict gangrené par le vice dans un hangar rouillé où soufflent, tel un écho funèbre, des sons inquiétants ("No God Intervention" et ces paroles comme prononcées par un dictateur devant une foule en liesse) et étouffés qui s'accouplent avec des cris de plaisir (masochistes) libérés par des corps féminins humides ("Conjuration").
Bien que l'on retrouve à sa tête un membre de Frostmoon Eclipse, Aere Aeternus ne braconne pas sur les terres du black metal mais plutôt celles de la dark ambient, genre que le groupe honore avec cette reptation sexuelle et morbide, kaléidoscope d'images sulfureuses qui s'entrechoquent, copulent. Vierges de guitares (sauf sur le terminal "Epilogue"), ces onze pulsations industrielles évoquent un orifice qui vit, se contracte, sécrète un fluide sinistre à base de sons étouffants et froids comme un cadavre. Humanity Needs No Funeral tient de l'expérience, celle qui se résume à faire l'amour avec la mort en une succession de coups de boutoir, parfois courts, d'autres plus longs, plus hypnotiques ("Brotherhood Of The 7th Day"). C'est affreusement noir et torturé mais il y a surtout ce goût salé d'interdit qui poisse cette musique et, ce faisant, la rend cent fois plus transgressive que bien des blasphèmes de l'art noir. Les premières écoutes de cette bande-son déliquescente laissent peu de traces, peu de cicatrices dans la peau. Celle-ci n'est tout d'abord qu'un magma informe dont on peine à distinguer les contours. Puis, peu à peu, symphonie funèbre et crépusculaire, elle écarte ses cuisses entre lesquelles on finit par se faufiler bien qu'avec guère plus d'aisance qu'au début. Ténébreuse, cette ode à la perversion dévoile alors sa beauté sale et putride. Presque un rituel mystique qui ne peut s'achever que par la mort. L'écouter revient à se perdre soi-même... (2009) ⍖⍖⍖
Many bands, especially in black metal, boast of sticking their members in the crack of lust but in the end, they are very few to succeed in encircling their art with a sticky layer of stucco. Aere Aeternus is part of this minority. From its first long-lasting penetration, preceded by a demo (Lammoth designed in 1997!) and a split, resonates the rail of a million women taken from a fifth of jouissance. For once, the visual expresses precisely the content of which it is intended to be the showcase: Humanity Needs No Funeral has something of a derelict gangrened by vice in a rusty hangar where disturbing sounds ("No God Intervention" and these words as pronounced by a dictator in front of a jubilant crowd) and suffocated sounds blow like a funeral echo and mate with cries of pleasure (masochists) released by damp female bodies ("Conjuration"). Although we find at its head a member of Frostmoon Eclipse, Aere Aeternus does not poach on the lands of black metal but rather those of dark ambient, a genre that the band honors with this sexual and morbid creep, kaleidoscope of sulphurous images that clash, mate. Virgins of guitars (except on the "Epilogue" terminal), these eleven industrial pulses evoke an orifice that lives, contracts, secretes a sinister fluid based on stifling sounds and cold as a corpse. Humanity Needs No Funeral is an experience, the one that comes down to making love with death in a succession of boutoir blows, sometimes short, sometimes longer, more hypnotic ("Brotherhood Of The 7th Day"). It is terribly black and tortured, but above all there is this salty taste of prohibition that poisons this music and, in doing so, makes it a hundred times more transgressive than many blasphemies of black art. The first listening of this deliquescent soundtrack leaves few traces, few scars in the skin. First of all, it is only a shapeless magma whose contours are difficult to distinguish. Then, little by little, a funeral and twilight symphony, she spreads her thighs between which we end up sneaking between them, although with little more ease than at the beginning. Dark, this ode to perversion then reveals its dirty and putrid beauty. Almost a mystical ritual that can only end in death. Listening to him is like losing yourself... (2009)
Many bands, especially in black metal, boast of sticking their members in the crack of lust but in the end, they are very few to succeed in encircling their art with a sticky layer of stucco. Aere Aeternus is part of this minority. From its first long-lasting penetration, preceded by a demo (Lammoth designed in 1997!) and a split, resonates the rail of a million women taken from a fifth of jouissance. For once, the visual expresses precisely the content of which it is intended to be the showcase: Humanity Needs No Funeral has something of a derelict gangrened by vice in a rusty hangar where disturbing sounds ("No God Intervention" and these words as pronounced by a dictator in front of a jubilant crowd) and suffocated sounds blow like a funeral echo and mate with cries of pleasure (masochists) released by damp female bodies ("Conjuration"). Although we find at its head a member of Frostmoon Eclipse, Aere Aeternus does not poach on the lands of black metal but rather those of dark ambient, a genre that the band honors with this sexual and morbid creep, kaleidoscope of sulphurous images that clash, mate. Virgins of guitars (except on the "Epilogue" terminal), these eleven industrial pulses evoke an orifice that lives, contracts, secretes a sinister fluid based on stifling sounds and cold as a corpse. Humanity Needs No Funeral is an experience, the one that comes down to making love with death in a succession of boutoir blows, sometimes short, sometimes longer, more hypnotic ("Brotherhood Of The 7th Day"). It is terribly black and tortured, but above all there is this salty taste of prohibition that poisons this music and, in doing so, makes it a hundred times more transgressive than many blasphemies of black art. The first listening of this deliquescent soundtrack leaves few traces, few scars in the skin. First of all, it is only a shapeless magma whose contours are difficult to distinguish. Then, little by little, a funeral and twilight symphony, she spreads her thighs between which we end up sneaking between them, although with little more ease than at the beginning. Dark, this ode to perversion then reveals its dirty and putrid beauty. Almost a mystical ritual that can only end in death. Listening to him is like losing yourself... (2009)
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