If you come into Rapture and Perversion, the new split EP by Hessian and YHWH, expecting a fully produced, bombastic piece of overblown extreme metal then, to quote South Park, you’re gonna have a bad time. However, if you come into it expecting a raw, lo-fi, unapologetically black metal offering to the gods of all that is evil, then this, brothers and sisters, is the release for you.

I live for this kind of record. It’s what attracted me to the movement back in the day when dinosaurs roamed the earth and black metal was still in its infancy. That feeling that you are listening to something you shouldn’t be. That you are part of something wicked and probably illegal in most parts of the world. You know, the kind of thing that might get you burned at the stake.

That feeling has become surprisingly difficult to find.

Somewhere along the way, a lot of black metal became obsessed with perfection. Productions grew cleaner. Performances became tighter. Albums started sounding like they had been assembled with surgical precision rather than summoned in a damp rehearsal room where the only available lighting came from a flickering bulb that probably hadn’t passed a safety inspection since the Thatcher years.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with evolution. Black metal has always been capable of growing beyond its primitive beginnings. But every now and then you hear a release that reminds you why those rough edges mattered in the first place.

Rapture and Perversion is one of those releases.

Split releases have always been one of the underground’s greatest traditions. Long before algorithms decided what you should hear next, splits were how scenes grew. You bought one because you already knew one band, then came away obsessed with the other. They weren’t simply collaborations; they were introductions to new corners of the underground, passed between fans like whispered recommendations. Rapture and Perversion captures that spirit perfectly. Although the collaboration had reportedly been in the works for close to a year, it never feels forced or opportunistic. Instead, it plays like two sides of the same blasphemous coin.

This isn’t an EP interested in polishing away every imperfection until it shines. It understands that atmosphere doesn’t come from expensive production tricks. It comes from conviction. The grit, the hiss, the sense that everything could collapse into glorious chaos at any moment all become part of the experience. Rather than sounding unfinished, the recording feels alive, unpredictable and wonderfully hostile.

Hessian wastes absolutely no time getting to the point. The riffs arrive with all the subtlety of a brick through a church window, driven by the kind of restless energy that recalls black metal’s earliest years without descending into parody. There’s an immediacy here that refuses to let up. The guitars cut through the mix with jagged intent, the drums constantly threaten to outrun everything else, and the vocals sound as though they were dragged kicking and screaming from somewhere deep beneath the earth. It’s ugly, violent and completely unapologetic.

There’s also a sense that this marks the beginning of a new chapter for Hessian. With Laremy Wade now handling both guitar and vocal duties alongside the returning Imperious Noctem behind the drum kit, the project feels lean, focused and completely committed to the primitive aggression that defines its side of the split.

Belgian-Thai outfit YHWH provide the perfect counterbalance. Where Hessian often feels immediate and feral, YHWH allows the atmosphere to spread like thick fog rolling across abandoned ground. The pacing becomes heavier, more ritualistic, replacing outright speed with an oppressive sense of choking the shit out of you that slowly tightens its grip around your throat. The result is every bit as unsettling, proving that black metal doesn’t always need to move at breakneck velocity to leave a lasting mark.

What ties both sides together is authenticity. Neither artist sounds remotely interested in chasing modern trends or producing something designed for mass appeal. There are no glossy production flourishes, no cinematic interludes that outstay their welcome, and certainly no attempt to soften the music’s harsher instincts. Everything exists in service of the atmosphere.

And that’s exactly how it should be.

Black metal has never been about technical perfection. It has always been about creating a feeling. Sometimes that feeling is isolation. Sometimes it’s rage. Sometimes it’s the uncomfortable sensation that you’ve stumbled across something hidden away for a very good reason. Rapture and Perversion captures that spirit beautifully. It feels less like a commercial release and more like discovering a battered cassette hidden beneath a loose floorboard, passed from one obsessive collector to another with strict instructions that it never falls into the wrong hands.

Clocking in at just over a quarter of an hour, the EP also understands something many full-length albums forget: leave people wanting more. There isn’t a second wasted. No bloated intros. No unnecessary filler. Just seven blasts of uncompromising black metal that arrive, do their damage and disappear before familiarity has any chance to dull their impact.

Rapture and Perversion won’t be for everyone, and frankly, it doesn’t care. That’s part of its charm. It isn’t interested in converting newcomers or broadening the genre’s appeal. Instead, it speaks directly to those of us who still remember when black metal felt genuinely dangerous, when every new underground release felt like opening a door that perhaps should have stayed locked.

If you miss that feeling, if you still believe black metal should have dirt beneath its fingernails, malice in its heart and absolutely no interest in playing by anyone else’s rules, then do yourself a favour. Seek out Rapture and Perversion. Sometimes the old ways still have plenty of life left in them.