A few months ago, I chanced upon this one-man doom army that calls itself MUL on the Satan Stole My Teddybear website, as an advertisement. It was a bit a later on, I don’t remember when or how, I found that MUL is heralded by none other Knut, a young man I have sort of known since my early days in metal through DALnet chat. We’ve flamed each other and vice versa, but all this doesn’t come into play when it comes to music. Saying that, Human Vindice is a piece of work that is far more than monumental, especially for goddoomed demo. Rotten to the core this is, and I am seriously shocked by the impact it makes on my psyche every time I listen to it. This isn’t the usual moniker of doom/death, rather it is a fine example of what D-O-O-M metal should sound like for this age of shit.

This follows quite closely the elements of “funeral” doom (see: Skepticism) but is still extremely unique and not like any other project I’ve heard, frankly. The greatest triumph of Human Vindice is that as a whole it is soaked with “character”, where songs are not just songs, but distressing worlds that follow through together like nothing less than peccadillo magic. This Knut has very carefully planned together an intractable attack on the senses that was completely immeasurable to me at first listen though it gave me immense pleasure to have my ears glued to this pain for a week in constancy.

Really, on Vindice MUL has no tendency of hurrying things up a bit so you can smile at it like a passing rail; it pounds you to dear death like a sledgehammer in extra slow forward mode. In other words, this is not only extreme but also minimalist to the core. Knut, as a player, doesn’t need to come up with flashiness to absorb the doom listener. It sounds like he’s created exactly the accurate spell by using token devises to have you withering away the 70 minute or so running time staring at your water-fucked walls; motionless, thoughtless.

The only area this demo gets speed is a small portion of the first piece, Separate Propositions. First off, I have never heard such an awkward opening to anything - a rusty guitar on some high piercing like a knife crying. It actually does sound like that to me, in all its majesty and revolving flow; backed by pitiful howls, whispers and words. Halfway through or so, the decision taken is to belch out some hard riffage; a driving frenzy, that in seconds is no more. What follows is sinuous with beauty and disgust, in a manner astounding, with all its instrumental singularity and trudging, voiceless propaganda. As the title suggests to me, this wondrous piece seems to spike from two separate minds; and the latter, the lonelier, is kept in play.

The progression from aimless bass strumming on Under Mud is mammoth-like. It appears almost conceptual, the way in which it leads to Grint Slime. Through a duration of 9 minutes, you’ll be sinking in thoroughly, captured by simple, intense guitar work consisting of huge riffs that take up the space of a large dying room (sic). The complexity comes in the form of the idea itself; a tempo that is manipulated in a style that is impeccable in its delivery and armed with feel. I know this as I find myself in a different world of scorching heat and the slime that is to be encountered under this mud, ingeniously created by simple, homegrown music. The journey through Slime is shorter. Relentless still, MUL shows signs of loosening up and breathing for a moment but this proposal is naught but a myth. I cannot say the guitars sound anything like the song prior to this in matters of mode - it is an assault of treble and you’re caught up in excruciatingly sluggish bites from a dimension that is definitely not the reality we think we wake up to.

There is no thinking required, as a Thought Cube does this labor for you. You have crazier things to worry about such as the question of “what the Hell is going on here?” The change from a voyage in walled sludge turns violent, yet by no means “fast”, as Knut almost slams an undemanding riff on the face that is irrational in comparative behavior and more so when this anger turns to something of an acceptance in an acoustic passage. You’re back, as futile as before and pierced once again… but is this illusion? I am halfway up or down the ladder, because the image of this cube stays sound in similarity to its earlier hostility and yet soothes as well as slashes with a melodic layer.

An epic of the truest form leads us to The Central Meaning, leaving you more perplexed than anything else. As I turn out the lights and vigorously scratch my chin in amazement, I realize that this meaning that is in conveyance requires more than just temporal understanding. In other words, this is doom metal at its absolute peak and needs your ears for you to believe. Is it possible to sound atonal and supremely melodic at one time? Yes, and MUL is stamped all over it. The uncaring barrage of parting riffs round off the guitar pinches like an inexplicable conclusion, but he’s isn’t letting you off easy. Bewildering is the sudden uplift to riffage similar to Thought Cube, abruptly purged by start-stop bass and guitar strum of the most eerie nature. What does this mean?

What we are left with is Planet of Deceit, possibly the starting point, except in its factual nature. Like everything else on this essential demo, this too is a masterwork and offers a freshly mutilated experience. This is thunderous monocolour brilliance and lives up to its title. Deceit is the serenity of the simplistic jabs at the guitar spaced far apart, for in reality, this stratum has that initial voice, that frightening growl, trying to escape. It succeeds halfway, and storms tyrant-like - as if unfolding a fate over doom-laden ambiance. This is the length of 13 minutes and it justifiably feels like it. Human Vindice is a work like no other, and with songs of utterly sodden magnificence to end like this, this is also some of the finest doom metal I have ever heard. I find it hard to describe, but this demo has the atmosphere of a downer in perpetual movement. Luckily, Knut threw in two bonus tracks.

Both Dump and The Needles cannot be labeled mere “bonus” tracks in fact; they are much too good for that. Dump is a bizarre, perhaps contemplative (you never know with this fellow) piece, and an astonishing one at that. It may seem pointless to the passive listener, but this absurd play of strum and drum melancholy subtly leads to the forlorn devastation of The Needles, creating a strange couplet. “Lights out” is a hard rule for the entirety of this album, and if you want to really feel the dementia that these needles can tempt, I suggest you do so before pushing the button. These needles are distant, almost like “vibes” than anything else. I am dead serious when I say that a description of this song is in vain. At the end of six and a half minutes of sparse gurgles, unusual drum patterns and the slithering grunt that are guitars, I am left wonder just what Knut has ingested before this recording. Possibly nothing, for this plain genius, undiluted. However, both these songs would have fit better under the helm of the album itself, rather than as bonus tracks.

Knut from Norway, take a fucking bow, you weirdo. Surely, there are many parts that sound aesthetically “wrong” on Human Vindice. Does it matter? Hardly. This isn’t about bragger playing or incessant showoff, nor is it about right or wrong. Knut tells a morbid tale perfectly, wherein music and extraneous idea become an absolute whole. This is what DOOM should sound like, and the greatest aspect of this is that it came out of someone I thought was incapable of musical creation of a level or magnitude so colossal that it is a chilling thought. The production is raw, gritty and unstable; personally, I’d like it no other way. Human Vindice is unquestionably one of the best demos I have heard, and I hope one day it will be released in the form of a full-length disc.

Forget your dawdling existence and summon this demon. Support MUL and its wholesome package of devious catastrophe. Go to http://vindice.cjb.net/ and give this stuff some listening. If you like your doom to be exactly what it means, this will leave you surreally moved. If not, too bad, you’re going under the fucking mud anyway. (4.75/5)