There’s a cold remoteness that resonates throughout black metal’s complex and not always pleasant history. It’s often the music of isolation, and many of the genre’s most identifiable characteristics – high-pitched screams, brisk tempos and coarse recording qualities – possess an innate relationship with absence; of light, company, temperature, and in the most macabre of cases, hope.
These are sweeping generalisations, but given that Winterfylleth share their name with an old english word for October – a month typified by impending nightfall, morning frost and Halloween – this alignment with the stereotypically bleak milieu associated with black metal is an easy reach.
The Manchester band’s latest album, the ninth of their twenty year existence, is called ‘The Unyielding Season’. The titular season could be the month of their namesake, or it could be a reference to the grim epoch of existence humanity currently occupies. Either way, a cursory reading would conclude that...
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