One man's dusk is another man's dawn, your wet weekend is the rapid for my raft. NAE'BLIS' wretchedness is my delight.

Cocooned in a dark tomb of despair, the music within “Sketches Of Reality” cries out from the depths of a murky hole in the ground where all manner of emotional detritus has accumulated, often the statement is muffled by the burying of head in hands but defiance is brandished too as bloodied fingers claw at impossible walls in a concerted attempt at escape. You will have to forgive me, the enjoyment I gain from observing such futility can't be healthy.

The songs on this album are all lengthy but never become a chore, the introspective pacing around of the sole entity of this endeavour absorbs the listener despite the fact he bemoans all the ills that surround him. His bitterness is reflected in the shattered chords and jangled picking that provides many a sharp edge for the unwary to catch themselves upon, the melancholy is folded and strengthened until it reaches the height of the gallows, just step across. The tension builds until the tethers snap and personal demons escape to reap havoc, accompanied by powerful but dampened subterranean blasts and poisoned melodies that mock life itself.

“Sketches Of Reality” scores over many of the depressive/misanthropic Black Metal ilk in that there is a range of dynamics and a constant building of pressure until release, with songs this long, ten minutes of shoe gazing followed by a conciliatory rush to the finish would soon wear thin. Instead the ebb and flow of negativity causes sparking as it passes over contradictory sentiments, atmospheric use of keyboards and piano provides eddies with which to twist the torment and leaves you knowing not whether to laugh or cry. Repetition plays it's part, though layers are added so that there is an accumulative effect, amplifying the resonance.

There is no doubt that NAE'BLIS spits in the face of humanity, the croaker from the crypt vocals leech vehemence, the anguish and contempt convince and morph into the general ambience of the music. Black Metal of this making is all about atmosphere, it would only be a slight exaggeration to describe it here as Venusian, it eats away at your lungs just before the hell-breaker sections collapse your ribcage. Elements of light are used for contrast, the odd lifting lilt of soulful guitar or a strangely Parisian keyboard tone feature occasionally and fuse themselves into place to make perfect sense. This is a strong record, the production and composition ensures that “Sketches Of Reality” stays in your face even when it purports to wanting to be alone, it might hate you and shun your presence but it wants you to know about it.

The melodic disenchantment here works against itself, it draws you in, the heightening of suspense holds you there and the regular shift to cacophonous barrage piledrives you into the ground, you're going nowhere. The dilemma for me is that this music evokes too much pleasure, not the pass the razorblade self-indulgence but contentment – full stop. Clearly that isn't the intention of the maker but I can live with my life being brightened by the gathering of dark clouds.

(Online May 19, 2007)