Back in 1993, Inade released Burning Flesh on two cassettes which immediately made an impression on the underground music scene, with its blackest of black dark ambient sketches and soul-crushing gloom, and established the reputation and credentials of the two protagonists René Lehmann and Knut Enderlein. The follow-up, Aldebaran, originally released in 1996 equally caused something of a commotion when news of its imminent reissue–in a new third, unlimited, edition–emerged earlier this year. For those of us who missed it the first time around, myself included, this has been something of a much anticipated release.Aldebaran is eight tracks of gloriously gloomy and hellish doom ambience lasting for over an hour. Mikael Stavöstrand’s Inanna had also explored similar territory around the same time, but Inade had brought the genre to a pitch of perfection with this release; the duo floated to the top of the black pool that is the dark ambient genre and their reputation became totally entrenched, both in terms of their vision and the quality of the releases.
Aldebaran is based around the German Vril Society of the interwar years and their myths concerning the star. It was considered to be the Black Sun of the Secret Knowledge, in other words, unadulterated spiritual power. According to their doctrines the origin of that universal spirituality emanated from this very star—along with the human race—but given the later developments in German interwar politics and with the creation of organisations such as the Vril and Thule Societies the malign aspects of so-called 'spiritual' power became all too apparent.
With this in mind, there is, above all, a vast freezing coldness bestriding the entire album, a reflection of that malignity and the cold stretches of airless space in the gulf between our supposed origins and our home perhaps. It must be supposed that members of this society lamented the separation from their 'brethren' and that they keenly felt that separation. On here it is captured in that very freezing coldness to perfection. In keeping with history's view of later events, a streak of hidden malice runs through this, with walls of solid black tones, pulsating waves of bitterness, crushing explosions of noise, wails and voices dragged from the very depths of hell itself, along with blanketing swathes of night-encrusted hatred, alien skitterings echoing in dank cathedral spaces and, brooding over all, a coldly calculating demonic intelligence that is the inhuman heartbeat of the album. The word uplifting could never be applied to this release, the malicious vein of misanthropy is almost a tangible force that beats you around the head.
Just like any other type of music there are those whose output is merely competent and workmanlike. There's no pretence at originality—simply taking what others have done and regurgitating it—and they offer nothing ground-breaking. Inade however were forging a new style then, pushing the envelope to use the vernacular, and even today, nearly 12 years later and with all the developments within the genre during that time, it still feels fresh and innovative and can hold its own. I can almost guarantee that the same will hold true of Aldebaran in another 12 year's time.
samples:
- Signals from 68 Dimensions part I
- The Crushing of Earthly Foundations part I
- The End of the Beginning part I
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