Aural Aggravation

1st September 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Details around Scottish black metal act Euchridian and sketchy. They’re a trio, and the drums were recorded at a different studio from the rest of the instruments. And this is to the good. I don’t need to know, and ultimately, probably don’t want to know. What does it matter when they formed, where they live, what gigs they’ve done? The lack of social media presence is admirable: in the absence of corny posed photos and candid snaps and videos of them gurning away at their instruments, I have nothing to judge them on but the music and the enigmatic cover art. And a little enigma goes a long way.

The advent of social media has not been a great thing for many artists. Before social media, it was possible for the music and the record sleeves to represent, and promotion didn’t have to involve endless posts about pointless shit like pictures of the band’s takeaway delivery before a rehearsal. Social media says that bands now need to build a rapport with their fans, to interact, to engage, and frequently to keep them engaged. But acts like Sunn O))) and Khanate prove it’s possible to not do that and build an immense fanbase. Likewise, you won’t see JK Broadrick doing rounds of inane interviews, spouting pointless opinions on pointless subjects to flog a few more Godflesh albums, or GYBE raffling off drum skins and offering personalised hand-written lyric sheets for £75 or whatever.

Musicians by nature tend not to be as extrovert as the act of making and performing music may suggest – and there’s a world of difference from being a pop act with aspirations to performing arenas, to murky metal which channels all the pain and anguish of existence and is much less about reaching an audience than it is about having an outlet for all that shit.

Philia is, according to my light research, one of the four ancient Greek words for love, and compared to agape and eros, it’s perhaps the most obscure. This may in part be a reason for the choice for the EP’s title, but philia is usually translated as ‘friendship’ or affection, and this is what carries into the first track, the nine-and-a-half minute ‘Sweetness’.

Sweetness and black metal may seem unusual pairings, and sure enough, this absolute monster of a track. The guitar sound is quite bright, and it’s a solo riff that opens what starts a crunching slow-burner. The drums crash in slowly next, before Matt Davies’ manic mangled rasp of a strangled snake spitting venom enters the fray. There is a sense of pomp, a sense of ceremony, but above all, this feels maniacal, murderous, deranged and fucked up. The temp shifts here and there, and there’s the obligatory monster guitar solo, but it’s the driving riff that blossoms into something truly epic.

And on the subject of the truly epic, the second track, ‘The Rule Of Three’ is an absolute monster, clocking in at over thirteen-and-a-half minutes and built around a slow, trudging riff. The guitar may be bright, but it’s mangled as fuck and squirms in an agonised tandem with the raw, ruined vocals. Around the mid-point, it switches focus and embarks on a break that s beyond epic – but it’s not corny, either. It is, however, one of those chord sequences played in a way that makes you feel. And the it goes really dark.

Overall, Philia is properly nasty: this is the sound of a band fully committed to plunging the deepest depths of darkness, and ‘Philia’ doesn’t punch you in the guts, but pulls your guts out and squeezes them. Philia is full-on intensity, and hits where it hurts.

AA