Fysisk Format – 12th December 2025
Christopher Nosnibor
I’m not being flippant or facetious when I say that we don’t contemplate or discuss death nearly enough. It’s only natural that we – all of us – are scared by the prospect, be it of losing a loved one, or one’s own demise. The concept of no longer existing is beyond comprehension. No-one has ever reported back on what happens afterwards, although the notion of an afterlife is at the core of many faiths and belief systems, and people believe because it gives hope. the alternative, being a definitive end followed by absolutely nothing, is almost too much to bear. And so the tendency is to bury heads in the sand – metaphorically – and to assume – especially in youth – that we’re immortal.
But we are not. I myself began to feel an awareness of death in my youth, quite inexplicably. On reaching twenty-five, I became obsessed with the fact I had attained a quarter of a century and the sheer pace of the passage of time. Since then, I have lost all of my grandparents, an uncle, several friends I was at school with, and my wife. I write this simply as a matter of fact: death is one of the few facts of life, but one we seem programmed to deny the very existence of, let alone its proximity. I see so often, comments on the deaths of people in their sixties, seventies, even eighties, that they were ‘no age’ or ‘taken too soon’. This is outright denial. We consider people in their sixties to be ‘middle aged’. They’re only middle-aged if they’re going to live to a hundred end twenty: for most of us – and again, it’s uncomfortable to accept it – but 37-40 is middle aged.
So, they may be young – still in their early twenties – but Norwegian quartet Fanatisme, who ‘channel the lunatic, forest-worshipping spirit of early Ulver and Darkthrone, merging it with the gothic pulse of Christian Death and The Cure’ are presenting on their debut album ‘a fiercely individual rush of post-punk-infused black metal, a spine-chilling celebration of humanity, the beauty of life, and the inevitability of death.’
And this is interesting: a lot of goth and metal hangs its mood on the death thing, to the extent that death is often romanticised, but without really taking a grip on the reality. On Tro, håp og kjærlighet, Fanatisme explore a vast sonic and emotional range, which seems befitting of the topic. Not that I can comprehend the lyrics: even if they were sung in English, this would be an absolutely impenetrable snarl. But you get the sentiment and the sheer force of Tro, håp og kjærlighet, which is at times rabid.
The first piece, ‘Stannhetens Slor’ is clearly designed as an intro, standing at under three minutes, and it’s a soft, drifting ambient work for the most part – but near the end, it builds and swells and culminates in an anguished scream of treble, a drone that grows to a howl. And then the guitars happen: ‘Nordens Eteriske Sommer’ slams in, a quintessential black metal blast of raw-throated vocals howling in a tempest of squalling sludgy guitars and a ragged, shamelessly underproduced rhythm section. ‘Kjrlightetsbrev til Vren’ actually sees the band find a rare groove, albeit punctuated by rabid, rasping vocals, while ‘Manetroket’ is a full-fat, heavyweight trudger of a riff monster.
Despite the complete impenetrability of the lyrics, this is an album that has impact and has a certain resonance. And it works. I wouldn’t recommend listening to this on your deathbed, but I do recommend listening. The last song finds them really hitting the spot, and hard. ‘Livet r en dans p Posens Tornet’ is one of those colossal epis that impossible to deny. The guitars race hard and fast a streaming metal churn of energy which rushes forward, its urgency dominating the whole blistering maelstrom, bringing an expansive, and heavyweight album to a racing climax. And whatever is lost in translation here, Tro, håp og kjærlighet is a high-impact release.
AA
Aural Aggravation 