One-man improvisational Black Metal from wyrd necromancer Steve Peacock. Incredibly musical, ordered and seemingly intently constructed, considering how it’s created in the throes of improvisation – Croakal blood throat vocal command, raw barbed ropes of sick trill evil riffs and dissonance movements coiled around supreme minimalist drums full of drifting ambience and sub-groove Ildjarn stomp, a boiling, exuberant menace of controlled and singular as fuck raw Black Metal, apraxic, simplistic and evil! Calculating and direct, conjured from virulent strains of Black Thrash lunacy and austere Black Metal orthodoxy. Imminent, immediate, dangerously esoteric. To be absorbed in the ecstatic throes of misanthropic inebriation.