KappeSvarte Greiner

Those long Norwegian winters must really be taking their toll. Listening to the new album by Svarte Greiner (aka Erik Skodvin) makes the classical stylings of 2006′s Knife – not to mention the Deaf Center records – seem almost stately in comparison; Kappe appears ramshackle, poorly lit and certainly not seaworthy. Finding a way in through its huge, portentous-looking doors is tough, but once in, you may well find them chained behind you, and yourself totally cut adrift.

On entry, you can hear those huge lumps of scarred metal rattling behind you as a nightmare builds around you, something inhuman howling from the bow of the storm-consumed ship. Just as it feels your senses are about to be totally overpowered, and that you are to slip from consciousness, over the edge into the filthy black abyss, the tempest abates. It leaves those chains to swing and scrape, grinding against each other like steel teeth. A menacing whoop clears the decks, and the distant wail of strings echoes around a vast black space, mingling with the pulsating squall in increasingly biting waves, leaving ice cold and shivering, a long way from anywhere you recognise.

Kappe tries to lure you aboard with the promise a “Tunnel Of Love” and a “Candle Light Dinner Actress”. Don’t let that fool you. This is truly the ship of the damned. Tickets on sale in February from Type.

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