[Reviewed by: Iaha Crax]
Though they have chosen not to disclose their identities, the flawless execution of the songs undoubtely suggest mature musicians having played already in perhaps renewed bands. As the music is imbued with a love for extreme songwritting with the effect of a lighting, burning outside the listener like the faithful exhaust himself before his divinity, the limits of the common black-death songs are the first to fall.
Temple Koludra forges a principial album out of an energy close to that primordial burst of life into time, the ombilical point that strangled the captive chaos and has been let loose by a mysterious command. Under the immobile Buddha stands the cosmic serpent and abyssal watters, such seems to be the matter moulded by Temple Koludra into the form of this rather peculiar disc.
The ferocious nature of the album appears to outburst in central junctions, like the lighting (Vajra), disclosing the true face of this unnamed monster (in Grey Apparitions ). Nothing is left to chance, althought chaos lurks at every corner to unhinge its madness. A track like Namarupa unfolds, like the quadrature of a circle, death metal trepidations that access an origin which is built on indian ritual music, so that the piece of music takes light and vanishes in front of us, becoming visual, taking now a form only to loose it on the next arpeggio.
Elements of dark-ambient are mengled with death-doom emotions on the background of this fascination for indian spirituality, concocting an inspiring balance between the vanity of the self and its vacuity. This Diadem Will Last is the song of an endemic narcissism necessary for the unconditioned liberty. And that liberty flourihes undisguised on Vertigo. If you have read Coleridge’s Kobla Khan, a poem written under the valences of opium, the picture might receive a cerebral blossom. Of how evilish this orgiastic energy is resplending out of a regressive tonality, only the receptor might witness. More the like on the final song White I trance concrete visuals become deeper, as when you deep your pencil in the ink not to write but to scribble the very verb on the heart.
Its very title, Seven! Sirens! To a lost archetype, an imprecation reverted into blessing and sustained by this dedication to a lost spiritual origin, denotes a suspension from the mundane or prosaic expression, bringing in the whole a desire to provoke and unhinge mythical figures that have been put to rest by our sloth, prostration. Here we may count projects such as Secrets Of The Moon, Schammasch, Lunar Aurora or Triptykon which share a close perspective on extreme metal writting with Temple Koludra.
They say to represent a transitional state between modern spirit and traditional sacrality. An infantile dependency to the state of separation. Ending to identify with feelings and becoming conscious of the vacuity. This is victory! Of Pyrrhus way.