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Mouth 04:17
In the beginning I Was. And then I was Not, for I opened the door when death was calling. The sweet lure of a bitter taste. The mysterious lure of the faint taste of blood. The hypnotic pulse of a bright spot of light deep within the emptiness. And then the intoxicating delirium to wield a cosmic darkness. Out of the lure – a mouth full of blood. In the face of the light – teeth. Out of the wielding – being wielded and invaded. Teeth in my throat, poison-clouded thoughts, gasping for death. In the chasm, I am the Beast, and the Beast is within me.
Against all wisdom and principle of life, I listened to a voice I ought never have allowed to speak. On the edge of a pit, I denied my Father’s voice and looked into the hole where I was told not to look. I heard the vipers hissing while yet far away, and drawing close, I called myself Master. Standing over the pit, the hiss rising to a feverish pitch: a symphony of grandeur. A mockery of death. A soulless chittering voice speaking in octaves all at once. Indistinguishable tongues of depravity singing the song of sensual emptiness. A glorious dream lifting up from a knot of serpents far below, hidden in the darkness. Leaning out, leaning in. Straining eyes searching for secrets. Ears entranced with amorous sounds. Leaning far, falling in. Landing hard in a mound of writhing, soft hard slender forms like lovers wrap around me – close over me Deep, deep in the darkness where eyes cannot see. Then a hot searing white pain from unseen forms swarming. Fangs in my cheek, throat, chest, fingers, feet, loins – suspended by teeth. The hole above is closing. The light is dying. A shriek from my chest: Father, see me. I have done these things.
Rending 04:16
I’ve denied the Father – shaken of His guiding hand – for the resplendent light above which once brought blossoming now sears my very flesh. My back turned to you as if an offense to me – I, now savoring the scraps of the sons of men. The first taste of madness as the waters swell, and I emerge a new creature: a daemon in my own eyes refulgent and brilliant. From chaos to chaos, glory to glory, Lord to Lord, Father to father: an image and likeness divine. From spirit to matter, I have rent the veil. I can taste the sepulcher. Its gore is flowing myrrh; putrescence is fragrant oil. Let me kiss the face of the deep, formless and void.
Charisma 03:11
I have glorified all forms of madness, turning the circle of the eye inward, elevating the bottom and ascending to the pit. Making blindness the illumination and death the anointing, the violent the beautiful, the murderer an apostle. Pain as a pleasure, rape a revelation, inversion ecstasy, wisdom in delusion. Inside the cube, a prison of insanity praised as planes shift and flatten out the mind. Open up the flesh, let the blood of the body out. Worship the emptiness in the eyes of a corpse. I confess to having tasted the blood of the children offered as they were to the hands of hell and to having taken pleasure in the screams of the innocent trapped in a house and burned to the ground. I have shown my firstborn son the visage of maleficence and offered him for burning while the seraphim stand aflame and aghast. This is my grief: that I am burdened by my atrocities but long for them still more. The black hole in my being that tears me apart is the same maniacal lust in my teeth to sink into flesh.
I am the hammer that smashes the wall. I am the wound that refuses to heal. I am the hatred of a son for his father. I am the father who kills his own son. I have come to surreal depths of darkness, the inescapable mouth of the vacuum, the crushing infinite black weight on every point of my life, infinity of pain on every cell of my body, pressure of infinite regression downward on every particle of my being. Nightmarish despair with no apparent cause, but beyond nightmares, profoundly immanent and more real than real in the midst of the death of reality. The looming faces of nameless beings who look and look and leer, and in the terror of absolute darkness, presences swarm around me (teeming chasm) and slash at me with the searing white pain of blank fire. And the looming torment of nonbeing that yet is forever unable to rid itself of the hum of consciousness lacking definite awareness – the nauseating torment of a blank white consciousness spilling forever into darkness. Oh, this terrible weight under a demonic void. In these last moments before I spill over the edge into the hole, Father, can You still hear my voice?
The Corridor 05:45
But the light from the holy response is too bright and I will not see my own glory eclipsed nor my shame come into visible spectrum nor acknowledge my monstrosity as having been witnessed. I AM NOT. Who are You to reveal this truth of myself? Did You not put this pit before me? Anyone but I am guilty. Oh, how I long for You in the pit of my soul, but my mouth fills with bile in the glory of Your presence. Yes, my hands still clench the fetish that I fashioned from amorous matter into my own refection in the midst of internal darkness. You see it. And I can see the corridor before me extending away, my own life fading and love abandoned. But no, no, no! I will not. Reject that thought. Not Your way. I close my eyes and grind my teeth. When I look again, let the sight be gone and my own kingdom coming. Let only internal projections be reflected in the faces and the objects I see before me. I AM GOD. NAUGHT ELSE IS. Remove all greatness so the small can be great. Blind all eyes so they think I am king. Block out light; let my impotence be hidden. Destroy all minds so the fool seems a sage. Spread false hope that allegiance is rewarded. Magnify my weakness until it breeds fear.
Lidless Eye 05:14
Birthing pains. Mind and body torn apart. Then a swirling vibrancy spilling into endless expanse, involuting into paradoxical void pregnant with my consciousness. I, the nucleus of this primordial dance, push forward to escape Nothing and to fill all in all until the boundaries that stretch of forever are filled. I am the ultimate preconceived, turning to myself for existential grounding. Separate entity from essence to enhance identity. To be sovereign, I must turn my soul into a cell forever locked away from the outside and ever turning inwardly. A new existence awaits where limitless possibilities converge in me and are projected outward again as I see fit. This path is no road, but stars! Countless stars! I expand and become ageless black. My hands, my feet dare to find an edge of reality, only finding more of myself. AM I NOT I AM? My eyes are closed. What is the morning star? My lidless eye.
Coronation 03:46
Without the Axiom, cannot the proposition live on? I can cross the ontological gap. One plus one plus one until it equals infinity. One may divide without end and never equal zero, yet I will cross the everlasting plain until I come to the Highest Point that can never be reached. He with His logic holds that I can never reach the infinite peak, but I have filled the universe with my own vomit and will soar on that bilious wave higher than the spirit rises until emesis crests the throne-beyond-the-endless and I breach the divide of being separating second from the Primary. I will to cross the ontological chasm by my own power, breaking the threshold to the ever-rising throne, even though I must consume infinite energy as I approach. I want to sit on the throne even if I fail before it. I lust for the scepter even if a figure of mockery. I will be the cornerstone, even if the temple walls fall upon me. I bestow on myself the blessing. I am Mostly High, and I will hold the threads in place – or else climax as they tear in my fingers. I am now the first, the last, and the center. All eyes will be drawn to me, even as we collapse into fame.
Aeon 04:36
Cut the restraint, sever all constituting parameters of existence if not of my own making. I can uphold them with my own being. The dissenter I will devour with my teeth. Mathematic boundaries I can wield, conceptual frameworks of my own life I can source as source. I am tetragrammar, body not spilling out, no no, brain not spill out, mind keep congeal. Syntax! I glory syntax! Weaver needle never waver, I structure glory all, stasis keep and stable master, Here a stone a rock a throne, sit and glory in myself. Here a throne already found, sit in place already stand, at foot of mountain in a ditch, mountain never needed climb. Gasping blood out of cells, bleeding out of spongy chest. Stars in sky black around bowing over, I the core! Planets, dust, and gas come worshipping, see god, see come praise. Chest inversion, tiny hole, pinpoint black exploding gate open up below my life? Inside center lifing place? Platelet ever falling inward? Flipping, turning, sliding inward. Gasping soul suck Life to life, space and stars and heavens falling, bowing drawn by growing hole in chest. Feed, feed, hole as life. Glory, in, and in the at, throning gloring, highest highess! Forever flipping hole in middle, blue and black and fat and fatting. Burning whiting blacking fat. Swallow whole stars out of reach. Swallow, swallow, swallow, swallow, swallow, swallow, blank. Spilling out.



Deluxe 4-panel A5 Digipak on glossy laminated 170gr paper. 16-page booklet complete with lyrics. Limited to 500 copies. Cover art by Elijah Gwhedhú Tamu

Initially based in Missouri, USA but now situated internationally, LO-RUHAMAH have been active since 2002 and debuted in 2005 with an eponymous EP, which was followed by 2007's astounding full-length, “The Glory of God”, an influential album that focused on the tensions of opposites found within the spiritual and mystical life. The album left a lasting impression by incorporating textured instrumental and delayed, reverberated approaches into its sound. The ambitious depth and complexity of LO-RUHAMAH's debut was timely in the underground, but its demanding themes and protracted length left it a polarizing album for some music critics and fans. In the 10 years of near silence since then, they have perfected a musical language that plunges into avant-garde and esoteric black metal, as well as into a frantic and gasping death metal, and this informs the band's mesmerizing new work, “Anointing”.

In this album, LO-RUHAMAH take threads from direct spiritual experiences involving the dissolution of reason and the human mind, enlightenment, desperation, self-destruction, will, visionary experiences, cosmic ruination, and the lines between humanity and divinity. These concepts are approached with often hallucinogenic imagery and language, echoing and refracting alternate states of consciousness.

Graced by Elijah Gwhedhú Tamu's amazing cover painting, depicting a stark vision of spiritual volition and frenetic movement, “Anointing” removes the arbitrary line between death metal and black metal with uncommon creativity and passion, experimenting with the juxtaposition of mind-boggling bass lines, serpentine guitar riffs, and a vocal performance that alternates between growls and schizoid howls. A dance of religious ecstasy and hellish pain.


released May 19, 2017


Harry Pearson – Drums
Matthew Mustain – Guitars
J. Griffin – Bass, Vocals

Recorded in collaboration with Jonathan Scott Lucas
Mixed and mastered by Damian Herring at Subterranean Watchtower Studios

Cover art and symbol work by Elijah Gwhedhú Tamu
Graphic design by Francesco Gemelli
Photography by Julie Griffin, Michael Hylton, and Rachel Pearson


Cat. Nr. IVR072


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