Band:	Aoratos
Album:	Gods Without Name
Style:	Black metal
Release date:	March 22, 2019
A review by:	nikarg

01. Parallax I
02. Holy Mother Of Terror
03. Of Harvest, Scythe And Sickle Moon
04. Gods Without Name
05. Thresher
06. The Watcher On The Threshold
07. Prayer Of Abjection
08. Dread Spirit Of The Place
09. Parallax II

Since my first listening session of Gods Without Name I keep asking myself what it is exactly that Naas Alcameth dreams of. The man behind Bestia Arcana, Nightbringer, Akhlys and now Aoratos (from the Greek word "Αόρατος" which means invisible) just keeps coming up with music that feels inspired by the most frightening of nightmares hidden in the deepest unconscious.

I have to admit that I could never get into Nightbringer but I absolutely adore Akhlys so I'm delighted to say that Gods Without Name feels like a continuation of The Dreaming I and explores even darker and more terrifying places. I'm talking about maelstroms of malevolent riffs that scythe hallucinatory dark ambient passages and open gateways into abyssal, timeless landscapes. Its whirlwind melodies often feel repeated because they tend to slightly metamorphose rather than suddenly change, but if you are patient enough and give the record the repeated listens it deserves, you will be able to dissect the subtle differences.

Excluding the introductory "Parallax I", the first half hour of Gods Without Name is mostly unstoppable and merciless with the songs blending into each other and by the time "The Watcher On The Threshold" finishes, you will be praying for some respite. Luckily, the tracks of the final third of the album are slower, maintaining the cold and mesmerising atmosphere of the ones that preceded them, but acting more as sonic symbols of an out of body experience.

So, Gods Without Name is highly atmospheric and this is not only due to the use of ambient and droney passages but it is equally the result of a partially dissonant approach in the guitar melodies that appear like swirling shadows in a thick wall of sound that reflects oneiric darkness. The powerful drumming alternates between tension-building beats and relentless blasting, while the trademark harrowed howls of Alcameth are a perfect match to the labyrinthine character of the music and his inhuman shriek in the beginning of "Thresher", my personal favourite, will likely haunt you for a long time.

I am not sure if this review gives a comprehensive description of the album; I found it quite hard to come up with the right words to adequately express the impression it made on me. The truth is that I became addicted to it and was unable to listen to anything else for a while so I am currently taking a break from it, mainly out of fear of losing myself into its vortex and becoming invisible.

Take a deep breath and dive right in.

"God of the cauldron
Pitchfork and nowl
God of the mare
Crow and the owl
God of the window
And the mirror's reflection
God of this House
Whose touch is abjection"