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| Self-released, 2017 |
singing only his memories,
his dreams, and his hopes”
There is a time and a place for what we know. That time is not now. That place is not here. Unlike many of its contemporaries, Voormithadreth emerges from the horror drenched musings of Smith, Dunsany, and Lovecraft; not merely to mesmerize but to slowly nest itself within.
While the works of Adam Kalmbach have been no stranger to this household, Voormithadreth has always managed to stay out of my line of sight. And even now, after repeatedly listening to The Quest of Iranon, I can’t say that I’ve become familiar with its laden soundscapes. Shredded imagery of grey dust does come to mind; unstable and transformative. Like a colour out of space, it shifts between the familiar and unknown, craftily avoiding the uncanny. Instead, despite its dark undertones, it continuously welcomes me. I now know what I have been looking for - and how to find it, as quicksand slowly beacons.
I press repeat.
TL;DR: It’s 04:36. All is pretty. My neighbours flee their home and leave the area.
