ALBUM REVIEW: Maudissez – Maudissez


What Maudissez are able to do with instruments (at least I assume they’re instruments) is unsettling to the nth degree.

The anonymous and self-described anti-Christian blackened sludge-cum-Death/Doom entity doesn’t simply make music; the four tracks featured within Maudissez (Sentient Ruin Labs) are as raw as a mooing filet mignon. 

 

The foreboding production wastes no time taking center stage. Opener “Fracture par fracture” is sheer nightmare fuel as notes linger, morph and transform from something unintelligible to something even more unintelligible. 

 

There is a constant and sustained sense of slowly falling into nothingness, and the track is mind-melting before coming to a full stop. 

 

“Blessure par blessure” incorporates drums and pulsating sounds that come together to act as an ominous sort of timebomb. The thirteen-plus-minute composition also sees muffled speech used in a dreary, subdued manner before a jumpscare pumps life back into things: a wall of haze and static becomes a crescendo of sorts that nearly reaches a climax before the same muffled speech settles things down at the last second. 

It’s haunting enough what comes from the inner workings of this faceless French phenom. What makes it even creepier is the feeling that these songs really aren’t meant to satisfy or impress anyone in particular (or anyone at all). 

 

Maudissez seems to lay bare a troubled and undefined soul in a way that translates into quite the sonic journey. “Meurtrissure par meurtrissure” houses biting screams shouted over another doomy, desolate bed. 

In modern times, the idea of anonymous or unidentified artists can at times feel disingenuous or gimmicky. But that separation between the art and artist – and putting all the emphasis on the music rather than the musician – truly enhances the output. 

I don’t want to know more about the mastermind behind Maudissez. I don’t want to Facebook stalk them or try and find their Instagram page to see if they’re a dog lover or a cat parent. 

This is nearly forty minutes of melancholic rage, uncensored turmoil and unruly machinations. 

Buy the album here:
https://maudissez.bandcamp.com/album/maudissez

 

8 / 10
MATT COOK