(We welcome back guest writer Lonegoat, the Texas-based necroclassical pianist behind Goatcraft, whose latest album Yersinia Pestis was released earlier this year by I, Voidhanger. In this piece, Lonegoat provides a different kind of review for the latest album by the Norwegian band Mysticum.)
Synopsis: Mysticum goes on a raging binge, warps to Planet Satan, dies.
Slowly and unwillingly, Mysticum recovered consciousness. He lay on his back, eyes tightly closed, trying to postpone the inevitable awakening. But conciousness returned and brought sensation with it. Needles of pain stabbed at his eyeballs, and the base of his skull began to pound like a giant heart. His joints seemed to be on fire, and his stomach was a deep well of nausea. It was no relief for him to realize that he was suffering from the absolute embodiment of all hangovers.
Mysticum had considerable knowledge of hangovers. He had experienced most of them in his time — the alcohol jitters, the depressions, the nerve aches. But his hangover felt like a combination and intensification of them all, with heroin withdrawal symptoms thrown in for good measure. Well, he decided, it was time to do the manly thing. Time to open his eyes, get out of bed, and walk bravely to the medicine cabinet.
Mysticum opened his eyes and started to get out of bed. Then he realized that he wasn’t even in bed. He was lying atop a black metal surface with a fog-filled sky overhead. He groaned and closed his eyes again. This was too much. He must’ve been REALLY wasted last night; hadn’t even made it home.
With a mighty effort, he opened his eyes again. What he saw was an entire landscape made of black glistening metal. The fog above his head shielded the rays from the Sun. Everything appeared in bright shades of gray.
“This isn’t Kansas,” Mysticum informed himself. He looked around, shielding his eyes from the glaring sunless light. “I don’t even think this is Earth,” he said. Mysticum shrieked in terror, buried his head in his arms, and passed out.
The next time Mysticum regained consciousness, most of his hangover had left, leaving behind only a taste in his mouth and a general state of debility. Then and there, Mysticum decided it was time he went on the wagon.
Cold sober now, he opened his eyes and saw that he was on an alien planet. “All right!” he shouted. “What’s this all about?”
There was no immediate answer. Then, from surrounding enclaves, a vast chattering of unseen animals began. Bewildered and frightened, Mysticum turned around to flee from the threatening sounds. His sprint was shortlived because his body collided with a fleshy mass.
Realizing he was struck by an invisible lifeform, Mysticum began to fight with all of his might. His body, albeit withered and degraded on its exterior, was not ready to perish. There was a primordial drive for him to survive. He attacked and thrashed in all directions, occassionally landing a blow on that unseen lifeform. With each successful blow, the lifeform became more agitated. The more agitated the lifeform became, the less it could focus on its projected camouflaging techniques. Mysticum continued to attack.
The beast, now fully visible, was unscathed by Mysticum’s puny efforts. He impaled Mysticum with his razor-sharp tail, and Mysticum perished on Planet Satan. THE END