A wonderful Digipack in black and white design provides an excellent first optical impression, the pitch black music lets the blood freeze in the veins and darkens the sun on this wonderful late summer day.
Actually the apocalyptic Black Metal with its dissonant echoes fits much better to a dreary, foggy autumn day - because the band from Iceland pulls you down into lightless depths with their extensive compositions. The speed is pleasantly variable; the range reaches from calm soundscapes to blast attacks with sinister vocals, which sometimes cry out in desperation to the sky. In the middle of the multi-layered sound hurricane, melodic guitar solos appear over and over like randomly thrown in. The mystical songs seem a bit confused to me and act like waves that roll over me again and again in different intensities. The dark ambient collages add another facet to the CARPE NOCTEM universe and contrast harshly with the doomed heaviness that is also represented. The densely superimposed layers give Og Hofið Fylltist Af Reyk a claustrophobic, deterrent fascination, just as if one were magically attracted by this darkness devouring all light.
In the end, I can't explain why this monolithic, cold-hearted, distanced and malicious work of hell has such a paradoxical attraction for me, because the bulky sound, often miles away from euphony, rather frightens me than caresses me with melodies. There are few catchy passages or even choruses to hold on to for orientation - so a deep engagement with Vitrun is absolutely necessary, but worthwhile and diabolically fascinating!