There are those among us who believe they are destined for the heavens despite the amount of suffering they allow based on their idea of some sort of pious plan. It’s a fucking lie, it’s all complete horse shit, yet these people spew this nonsense all the time. Yeah, torture as many people here on earth and be met with the heavens. 

Finnish blackened death metal crushers Proscription are well aware of the false faith of so many, especially our world’s leaders, and their bludgeoning new record “Desolate Divine” imagines a supposed true believer who passes on only to find heaven is a pit of dust. This isn’t new ground for the band—vocalist/guitarist ChristButcher, guitarist Cruciatus, bassist/vocalist Apep, drummer M.K.—as they’ve long torched the deeply devout for their supposed faith. But we see awful people every day try to use the name of god to put a gold stamp on torture, abuse, oppression, and greed, so what better ending for them? A gift of very conscious nothingness where their expected paradise was supposed to be.

“Gleam of the Morningstar” charges in, deep growls punishing, screams balancing that out as things head into a vicious cycle. Yells punish as the playing engorges, setting fires that lead a pathway to death. “Bleed the Whore Again” is storming and evil, the leads reigning as beastly, rapid fury ravages. Howls sicken as the playing continues to weaken wills, wiry and sinewy leads wrap their tentacles, and the slaughter finally ends mercifully. “Entreaty of the Very End” is instant carnage, hellish playing decimating as the guitars begin to explore the atmosphere. Brute force returns and leaves damage behind, the wrenching growls turning guts in bellies. “The Midnight God” has guitars hovering as pained howls echo, the playing ramping up and slowly strangling. The pace jolts as guitars sweep, vicious cries snarling to the end.

“Behold a Phosphorescent Dawn” has a smoking open, growls hammering as the guitars rise, total domination stomping your chest. Guitars ignite as the savagery continues, charging and burning into dust. “Heave Ho Ye Igneous Leviathan” races and tears, growls churning as the band beats you into a pulp. Humidity thickens as the shrieks come unglued, a trucking pace taking you underneath their wheels, the devastation flexing and humiliating you thoroughly. “Desolate Divine” is monstrous, the growls welling as a hypnotic outburst makes the room spin, the drumming annihilating. Vile howls sicken as the leads pierce flesh, ending in a mound of utter filth. “The Great Deceiver” is a quick interlude that’s eerie, strange, and chilling, making you feel the desperation of isolation before turning into closer “Not but Dust.” Guitars freeze as the playing unloads, the drums rampaging, and an uneasy pace turning your stomach. The guitars get more ambitious as airy, melodic strains send chills before one final meeting with the blast furnace.

I laugh and laugh when I think of people, especially world leaders, who claim their inhumane actions are some sort of mission from god, and the piggies just slop it up. “Desolate Divine” would be a nice, blunt, sobering wake-up call for them, one that Proscription perhaps didn’t intend to deliver in quite that way, but here we are. This is vicious, blackened, spiritual onslaught best served for those who think they’re promised eternal reward only to be met with nothingness. 

For more on the band, go here: https://proscription.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.darkdescentrecords.com/shop/

For more on the label, go here: https://darkdescentrecords.bandcamp.com/