Iamí - Cavernas do Inconsciente (2015)

I wandered down the hall of purple torches for nearly an hour, and yet it still seemed to stretch on without end.  The torches barely lit the stone walls around me, and I could not see the ceiling which was a great height above, far beyond illumination.  Every footstep echoed long into the silence, leading me to believe that the ceiling stretched as high as the hallway was long, which as far as I could tell was endless.  There were countless doors to my right and left, all identical.  I tried opening most of them that I passed, but all were locked.  As I continued to walk, suddenly I was startled by a small dark shape darting across the floor.  I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I were hallucinating in my delirious state; I was was very thirsty from the many years entombed..  I approached the spot where I had seen the shape vanish, which was by a door on the right wall.  I discovered that the door was slightly ajar!  I reached out and pulled it open.  As I did so it released a deep echoing creak, of ages unmoved, and as it opened I smelled something immediately familiar though long-forgotten, the scent of life, of plants, trees and water.

I walked through the door into this next dark chamber.  There were scattered torches about, and I could make out the edges of the room in the distance.  There were trees everywhere, somewhat like a jungle and somewhat like a garden.  The path leading from the door meandered through the trees much like a forest trail, and though there was dirt, grass, and leaves all around, the path itself was still masoned stone.  Who had cultivated this place?  Would they perhaps still be here?  Then I heard a distinctive sound to my left, a meow.  There was a black cat perched on the edge of the path several feet ahead, and it stared at me absently.  I realized that this must've been the black shape I had seen in the hall.  I was going to say a word of greeting, when it suddenly turned away into the forest. 

I continued along the path until I eventually reached a small clearing, where I found a fountain holding a pristine pool of water, which was somehow fed from a small creek that drifted through.  I immediately stuck my face into the fountain and drank deeply.  As I lifted my head I saw my reflection.  I was ancient.  Though my memories had long since disintegrated, I imagined myself as a young man.  What I saw before me, however, was a thoroughly wizened old creature.  My skin was wrinkled, my head was bald, my beard was long, and my eyes had sunken so far within that only the darkness of the sockets remained visible in the low light.  I saw only a stranger looking back, and so I felt nothing apart from the initial surprise.  I understood it to be myself, but contentedly understood it to also be merely an aspect of my eternal self, a shape taken in temporal novelty.

I asked of my reflection, "Where am I?" obviously expecting no response.

To my surprise it replied, its voice croaking like the grinding of stones, "This is a forest, one of many in the Hall of Lucidity."

"How are plants able to grow here without sunlight?" I asked.

"Many things are able to grow without sunlight, like mushrooms for instance," my reflection said.

"Mushrooms?"  I sighed.  "I'm not a mushroom.  I need to find the sun."

"Why do you need to find the sun?" it asked.

"Because I'm cold."

"You may find it, you may not, but even if you do I doubt whether it will bring you warmth.  In any case, you should follow my shadow.  Take comfort in the Hall of Lucidity.  It might be cold, but it is sacred."  And then my reflection vanished, and I only stared into an empty pool of water, as if I were a vampire.

I stood up, satisfied to have quenched my thirst, but still felt cold, and still longed for the sun.  There was life in that chamber.  And so I scoured it, searching everywhere for another exit, waiting for the night to pass.  But I knew it never would.  The life here thrived in spite of the darkness, and in fact seemed to thrive on it.  I realized that I would need to step back out and continue my search.  If light was not necessary for life, why should it necessarily exist at all?  The thought worried me.  But I could not deny that the place had left me with hope.  I had not expected to encounter nature so soon again, unless this whole vast tomb were some sort of natural construction.

I turned away from the beautiful fountain, and that chamber of life, and made my way back into the endless hall of purple light.  As I neared the exit, I turned and looked back and saw a dark shape moving.  It stopped and two bright yellow orbs stood still in the blackness, gazing at me with alien intelligence.  I took a final deep breath of that unexpected fresh air, and then reluctantly left, back into the gloom of the musty hall.

Soulside Eclipse - Forgotten Conquest (2010)

Many centuries ago I was buried alive.  I awoke in the cramped darkness of a coffin.  I tried to scream and kick and scratch at my cage, but I was totally paralyzed, silent and motionless.  I waited in that void for a great length of time, and though I tried to count the minutes and years, it all slipped away into meaningless eternity.  In that time all memory disintegrated, and my dreams grew more dim with each passing moment until nothing was left but existence.  And then the lid was raised.  I continued to lie in place for a time, forgetting how to bring my body into motion, but then I forced my head above the rim of the rotting wooden casket, to find my paralysis lifted.

My casket was set in an alcove along the wall, below and above several others.  There was no light source, but somehow I could still somewhat see, and so I could make out most of the room.  It appeared to be a crypt.  It was mostly empty, only caskets embedded in the walls and a grotesque statue of a skeleton standing nearby.  I lifted myself out of the alcove with some difficulty, my muscles atrophied by the countless years unused.  I fell to the cold floor.  I shook as I struggled to pull myself upright.  I shivered.  The room was frigid, and my clothes had decayed into tattered rags which only barely clung to my emaciated form.

I was overwhelmed with the sudden stimuli after so long an absence.  I felt as if I had been reborn, and yet tried to remember... remember whether I had ever had memories.  Did I have a name?  Did I have a life?  I could remember the sun, or something like it, because now all that I felt was the cold and dark, and if I had never felt the sun then how could I know the difference?  So my next thought was that I should seek an exit, to find the light and warmth.

I wandered to the end of the room where there was an open doorway leading into the next chamber, a long stone hall, also lined with coffins.  I proceeded forward, and then through several similar corridors, until I found myself back where I had started, next to my empty casket. 

"Why are you wandering?" whispered a voice from behind.

I spun around and saw only the skeleton statue.

"What?" I asked.

Without any movement the statue spoke again, "Why are you disturbing the stillness of this sacred place?"

"I'm trying to find my way out.  I'm still alive."

"Nothing lives down here except for the worms," the skeleton said.  "You are confused and restless.  Return to sleep."

"But I am alive!  Look!" I shouted, jumping up and down, waving my arms.  "I need to be in the sun.  I will freeze and starve in this place."

"If you are a worm you will shrivel up in the sun." 

"I'm not a worm.  I'm a human being.  Let me out," I said.

The skeleton remained silent. 

"Let me out," I repeated through gritted teeth.

"You are a restless worm.  You are condemned to squirm and feast on the dead," the skeleton said.  Then suddenly it lurched into movement, dust erupting from its many surfaces.  It turned to the stone wall behind, and with its index finger the skeleton traced an outline along the wall, trailed by an ominous purple glow, until it formed the shape of a doorway.  And then the entrance opened, revealing a hall that stretched as far forward as the eye could see, lit by numerous torches along the walls, which burned in a mysterious purple hue. 

"Thank you," I said.

"Do not thank me," the skeleton replied.  "You are cursed." 

I stared at the statue for a moment, but it said nothing more.  I was eager to leave that dark prison, and so I passed through into weird light.

Mitternacht - The Raise of the Secret Cities

The Raise of the Secret Cities tells the story of a great vision experienced by the "Wanderer," who glimpses an otherworldly landscape beneath the earth, and a vast, fantastical city which is cursed to repeat a violent cycle of birth and destruction.  It's a sort of symbolic meditation on civilization and history.  It's very apocalyptic, a headspace which I personally love to indulge in.  At times it reminds me of "Móti Ragnarǫkum," the Burzum track from Dauði Baldrs.  It has that same sense of soaring hellfire, however Mitternacht does not seem to share the optimistic, cleansing perspective on the situation, and instead sees the cycle as more of a prison mankind is condemned to.  The Wanderer is forced to come to terms with the fall of mankind out of nature, and even more frightening, must recognize the horror that awaits, calling forth from the end of time.

This album is pretty experimental, especially for when it was released (2004).  It feels like Burzum sometimes, and of course follows closely in the footsteps of Mortiis, however it still distinguishes itself quite a bit.  Firstly, and most noticeably, is the narration done by the artist, in English though with a pretty heavy accent.  Despite the English not being perfect, the content of the writing is top notch, highly detailed and visual, yet abstract enough that the listener does the major work of constructing the story in his mind.  The narration is the first I've heard in this style for dungeon synth, even though it would seem like an obvious idea.  I can't imagine an approach to lyrics better suited for the genre.  Some might find the vocals challenging at first, but they're easy to get used to after a few listens, and really do add a lot of texture, imagery, and originality to this experience.  The other noticeable distinction one will hear on this album compared to most dungeon synth is the presence of blast beats.  Again, it sounds weird and new at first, but I think it's really effective at creating an intense and engaging structural peak, even without the electric guitars and screaming.

Another distinction about this album, especially compared to dungeon synth albums released at the time and earlier, is the structural complexity.  There seems to be a definite intent to weave a story not just with the narration but with the music itself. The musical structure, like the narration, is set up in a way it wanders from one mood to the next abruptly, and often between several extremes of intensity, and yet it still always seems to touch back on the main thread of the Wanderer's vision.  So the effect is that it's easy to get lost in the trance of the drifting stream, but when one opens their eyes they still see the weird subterranean sun reflecting the burning city.

This album attempts a very original concept, and it does so at a high level of effort and skill, though still keeping the low-polish charm one would expect with dungeon synth.  The mood is mystical and exciting, the composition relatively ornate and yet still striking, and the lyrics detailed and abstract.  I think Mitternacht deserves a lot more recognition because he's really done something special here. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NhuJxREvS7Y

http://www.theomegaorder.com/Welcome?search=mitternacht

Dungeon Lore Foundation - Chapter II: "In Search of Artifact"

In a deep cavern you wander, torch in one hand, blade in the other.  After a long while you discover a hidden treasure, barely illuminated by the low flicker of your torch's flame.  You approach the half-buried wooden chest cautiously, always wary of traps, and upon opening it you glimpse the lost artifact, glowing of its own mystical power.  Is it cursed or enchanted?

This is the second original compilation album from the Russian dungeon synth community.  It starts out with a very rough synth, perhaps as a warning to the casual listener.  The rest of that track is quite mellow and pretty, however.  And this contrast is consistent throughout the compilation, a well-balanced mix of raw, growling tones and richly layered pads.  There's a similar balance of production complexity in the compositions themselves, providing what seems to be an accurate reflection of what's coming out of the community, with some tracks being highly ornate and mastered, and just as many seeming very primitive and immediate, and those lines blur often even in the same tracks, creating a very dynamic and fluid experience as far as compilations go.

What this album does well is conveying a sense of ancient mystery.  It captures the otherworldliness that would be expected of an artifact bearing magical powers, and it causes one to imagine the even more mysterious realm of this object's birth.  And so by hinting at a further mystery, rather than fleshing it out, this album creates a sort of enigmatic depth that is very effective.  There's also something vaguely familiar here, not of other dungeon synth, just that it has a sense of being eternal, especially on tracks like "For the Fern Flower" and "Hardening In The Flame Of Dragon," which have a particularly eerie mood of nostalgia.

I've been enjoying this album very much.  There's not a bad track here, and despite the specific theme of "artifact," the moods are still quite varied and dynamic.  I'd say this is an improvement over the last compilation, which was already quite good.  It's also simply a useful exposure to the new crop of Russian dungeon synth artists.  It's worth checking out, for sure.

 https://dungeonlorefoundation.bandcamp.com/album/in-search-of-artifact

Erang - Kingdom of Erang

While asleep, a vision suddenly comes to be experienced, and you find yourself to be in a strangely familiar forest.  As you start to wander, the memories return, the paths and curves of those mystical woods, and you start to reflect on all the adventures you've had in that land.  The memories come like a flood, one after the other, familiar and cherished all the more for being so long forgotten.  You think back to the terrible characters and enchanted dungeons, all your friends, enemies, and loved ones.  You shed a tear and tell yourself that you'll never forget your lost journeys again.  And then the vision fades, and one is awoken, never to recall that realm again.  

Erang hasn't changed much since it began.  Though the production values have improved, the compositions become more complex, and the moods more varied, the albums still follow the same formula as the beginning, offering a plethora of tastes, quick fragments of sentimental beauty, which then vanish like a will-o'-the-wisp.  And from the beginning that seems to be what Erang is about, cluttered sentimentality.  Though perhaps at times a bit too sweet for my liking, you can tell immediately that these expressions are true, despite the masking distance of fantasy to obscure the metaphors.  It feels very personal.

The accompanying PDF is a nice aid to the listening experience, being a 20-page collection of original drawings and prose poetry in a format similar to Mortiis' Secrets of my Kingdom.  While appreciated, I'm not sure it's particularly necessary to the listening experience, as the music does a fine job telling the story.  It is interesting to learn that Erang is developing a full world to stage his expression in a similar way to Mortiis and Tolkien (as well as every DM worth their salt).

Most of the tracks here are enjoyable, though like all the previous Erang albums, there's one stand-out track for me.  In this case it's "Then The Mocked Prince Became A Drunken Tyrant."  The mood is frantic and hopeless, and once the laugh sample is played and the bass kicks in, I'm sold.  It's an infectious hook with a palpably decadent atmosphere.  Who could ask for more?  Well, actually, it would be nice if every track on this album were as cold and catchy, but I can appreciate the rest of this album despite my impatience.  After all, it is by casting the net so wide that Erang is able to uncover such specifically engaging compositions.

Though Erang's prolific release rate and discography can be a bit daunting, and I wouldn't say any album is exactly perfect, I feel like Erang is on the cutting edge of exploring new sounds within the dungeon style.  He mixes and matches a wide variety of textures and moods, almost to the point where it's like an explorer's journal, briefly documenting each exotic place through which he passes, but always with endearment for that place.

https://erang.bandcamp.com/album/kingdom-of-erang

Skarpseian - Tan Gil

The order of a quiet medieval kingdom continues, the motions and energy synchronous with nature, the death and decay in balance with the life and energy, side-by-side.  Castles rise, already ancient, and stand as a beacons power for centuries, until becoming ruinous haunted tombs, stone corpses on the horizon.  In the heart of this realm lies a single ruler, cloistered in the top of a forgotten tower, the beating heart of majesty.  Through the mystical vision of this god the world and its inhabitants come to life, subjects to the will of this power, whatever that will might be.

Skarpseian is one of the best dungeon synth artists, and not just of recent times.  He seems to pick up right where Mortiis left off, not simply recreating the wheel, but expanding upon the pure vision.  The themes and general tone here are similar to the previous album, Skygge Slottet, however Tan Gil proves that there was more to explore in this territory. The best comparison to Skarpseian would be Mortiis' first three albums, and in fact the progression of Tan Gil seems to almost follow a similar course, with the beginning being a detached blurry daydream of a desolate dark age scene, hidden in fog.  This path changes a bit with Krysset Fjellene, which is an entrancing ambient, meandering track, a hard thing to do well.  It feels like a breath of smoke gently drifting past the trees and off the cliff into the ocean.  Then the transition from this track into the next one, Tengel, is a very striking force.  The abrupt, violent shift has that perfect feeling of decadent power, a black tyrannical uprising.  

Many of the synth voices here will be familiar: horns, strings, woodwinds, and of course the timpani heartbeat.  However these tones often have some sort of characteristic that distinguishes them, especially in the second half of the album.  There are also a few distinctive synth tones, not directly relating to any real-world instrument, that stand out against the backdrop of grounded medieval imagination, for example the spacey tone that appears in the latter half of Tengel and the surreal warbling tone around the middle of Til Fjellet Grav, very unique atmospheres.

What does the atmosphere of this album specifically refer to?  It's hard to say.  I'm sure the song titles have some relevance, but as to the actual feelings that the music evokes, it's a bit more vague.  Of course diseased castles are prominent, foggy medieval landscapes, forgotten myths and battles, and other classic medieval fantasy themes, however there is also something else.  That something else is what makes dungeon synth worth listening to.  It's that atmosphere of mystery, that unformed image that seems familiar but still forgotten, as if it were somehow an obvious memory, yet can only be reached in the unconsciousness of dreams, completely inaccessible to the waking mind.

https://skarpseian.bandcamp.com/album/tan-gil 

Xynfonica - A Feast for Famished Ravens

A demon slave of the mighty Azathoth is forced to view all moments in human civilization, and is then incarnated into mortal flesh to teach man of his own history.  He tries to communicate with the mortals through their own language, but is only able to gibber out an alien madness, a corrupted blasphemy of thought that serves only to poison the minds of any unfortunate enough to hear the message.  Blood leaks from the ears as brains soften, becoming ever more palatable to the unholy banquet of Chaos.  

This album is from Hekaloth Records, somewhat better known for their similar project, Shevalreq.  A Feast for Famished Ravens revolves primarily around historical events of the early Medieval period.  The Hekaloth website has since gone offline, but one can still access some info on this album with the "wayback machine."

Raw synth tones repeat atonal melodies with seemingly no reasonable arrangement.  The bass ceaselessly wanders along playing random dissonance.  A black metal growl is also ever-present, barking out lyrics that have the historical specificity of a textbook.  As one would expect, all these disparate elements manage come together to create a perfect hole, evoking the pleasant feelings of restlessness and nausea in the listener.  The abyss gazes first here.
 

One needs only listen to the sample track below to recognize that this is the greatest dungeon synth album ever composed, if not the greatest work of musical art.  Mortiis is dead!  Long live Xynfonica!  All other dungeon synth is now irrelevant.  Give your sanity to the feast of Xynfonica or suffer the wrath of the primordial sultan himself.