Wolfmangler

Where there are wolves, there is the digger Smolken. Left for dead two years ago when he left the murderous heat of Central Texas for the place of his birth, Poland, WOLFMANGLER has now been recast in rusted iron for its latest incarnation. Once a revolving door of different lineups, WOLFMANGLER is now the sole brainchild of Smolken. One thing remains the same, however. This is still some of the grimmest, most desolate doom metal on the planet.

Following a split CD with Moss and a full-length release on UK metal institution, Aurora Borealis, "Cooking With Wolves" is Smolken's first WOLFMANGLER release in it's new Polish form. What he concocts barely qualifies as music. It's more like the sonic equivalent of the Black Death. Heavy bass riffs, pounded and beaten into tracts of molten lava, spew pure dissonance like venom from a forked tongue. It is music for the funeral of civilization, an epic dirge to finally burn out the fire of the sun.

WOLFMANGLER is a unique entity, creating music unlike anyone else. Somewhere between black metal forests and Eastern European folk lies this bizarre hybridization. "Cooking With Wolves" uses an arsenal of acoustic and electric basses, bent and bowed into a cohesive, battered doom-orchestra. Smolken combines traditionals and Cole Porter tracks with original compositions. Further, no guitars were used in the making of these recordings. It's what classical music would sound like in hell. Inside each aural molasses coccoon, Smolken's trademark growl pierces through the murk to lead everyone and everything through the mountains to the sacrifice. These songs are a complete experience, each one drawing more blood than the previous.

"Cooking With Wolves" is a slow-acting poison. These shattered, shambolic acoustic death folk romps are a thing of pristine grandeur, boiled into a bubbling black mess. I can think of no better way to march toward the gallows with rotting skulls in hand.

Packaged in beautifully silkscreened black-cardboard jackets.