I don’t think that, in my entire time doing this, I have ever come across a blackened death metal one-man band. Usually, the one-man band moniker is reserved for black metal, specifically the DSBM subgenre, and revolves around one person sat around in their bedroom, feeling sorry for themselves.

Alright, that’s a sweeping generalisation, but you get what I mean.

So, when Vyr Muk reached out to me and asked if I would give his latest album, Crosses Above the Ruins, a listen and I saw that it was blackened death metal, I was instantly intrigued.

Then I read the blurb and I was even more drawn in as it states:

“The new EP explores the emptiness left behind when violence becomes part of everyday existence. The songs move through themes of emotional death, isolation, inner emptiness, hatred, grief, and the struggle to preserve one’s humanity in a world shaped by war and destruction.”

It took me all of about thirty seconds to realise that the press release wasn’t all bullshit talk either, because Crosses Above the Ruins delivers exactly what it says across its six tracks, sixteen minute run time. This isn’t just an EP. This is the sound of war brought to life through music.

The death metal elements sound like an army marching across fields and towns, laying waste to everything they come across. It is the noise that accompanies heavy machinery as it blows through cities, tanks crushing buildings, mortar shells raining down, bombing runs obliterating all before them into ash and dust.

While the black metal side sounds like a barrage of constant gunfire tearing overhead as you cower in a bunker, praying for this madness to stop.

This is not an easy listening experience, but then, it’s not supposed to be.

The vocals swing from the guttural grunts of brutal death metal to the ear-piercing screeches that are the hallmarks of black metal, adding a layer that is both violent and terrifying, usually within the same piece of music. It sounds as if Vyr Muk is channelling the voices of the dead to spit out their bile and hatred, to rail against atrocities that they had no hand in and deserved no part of.

And that’s the kicker. War is vicious and ugly and so is this record.

If you read my stuff, you know that I refrain from being too flowery in my words. That I don’t, or very rarely, go into prose to try to explain how a record makes me feel. It is something I have always prided myself on, but every so often a moment appears that simple words won’t do justice to.

Crosses Above the Ruins is one of those moments.

It offers no easy answers, no comforting resolutions, and certainly no polished silver linings. It simply forces you to sit in the rubble and witness the aftermath. Crosses Above the Ruins won’t be for everyone; it’s too raw, too relentless, and far too uncomfortable for casual listening, but for those willing to endure it, Vyr Muk has crafted a staggering, vital piece of underground extremity. A brutal, haunting triumph.