Black metal wanderer, The Crying Orc (aka Dmytro Eugenovich Marchenko), moved from Ukraine to Germany and recorded his latest album in separate sessions between Stockholm and Berlin. It’s possible he now lives in Tokyo, though that’s uncertain. What we do know is that black metal is a spiritual meditation for the art he releases under the name of Këkht Aräkh. If you want something malevolent and evil, go back to Mayhem’s 1987 Deathcrush EP. There’s none of that here.
Inevitably, opener, ‘Wänderer’, sounds like an analogue 8-track recording produced in a bedroom in 1995. That’s because a TASCAM Portastudio handled most of the recording. From a dynamic perspective, there is nothing “heavy” about it. The unwillingness to work on the guitar tone creates a lethargy in the music, especially when the blast beats are as light as the drums in an easy listening “exotica” piece. Might we call ‘Castle’ lo-fi indie music with a malevolent stare? The growling vocals have a bite to them, but not enough to empower the listener with superhuman strength.
One unintended consequence of the necro production is the presence of the bass in the mix. You can follow every root note with ease as you turn your ears away from the piss weak guitars. Surely, the home for lo-fi black metal is the punk-rock of America from the 1980s. It’s no exaggeration to say that the sorrowful blackened doom of ‘Lament’ has as much in common with darkwave as Darkthrone, and that’s a good thing. It should help you get your head around this LP. Look past the man in corpse paint brandishing a mace on the front cover of the album and dismiss the negative connotations associated with it, and there’s a modicum of intrigue here. The intricate folk patterns of ‘Genom sorgen’ confirm that talent does exist below the surface. Listen to the organ emote in the background under the sensitive voice of guest vocalist, Spöke. The German-language lyrics resonate with a melancholy loneliness befitting of a morning walk under the protection of an umbrella.
So, what are the weaknesses of the record? ‘Angest’ could be from any Ulver album of the early 1990s with its simple two-beat drum and muffled guitars displaced by the toneless microphone gargling. Knowing that black metal defined itself by its hatred of the shallow low-culture humour of death metal, you’d expect it to at least compete on a visceral level. Instead, it’s more sedate than a poet reciting the works that he hates to an audience of loyal fans that prevent him from expanding beyond that which defines him. ‘Mörker över mörker’ proves that black metal can be mistaken for a bedtime lullaby. ‘Three Winters Away’ would be epic if it dared to embrace audio engineering tools beyond the analogue. Observe how the choral keyboards add mysticism to the music. In a lo-fi setting, this only confirms how much better it would be with a brazen dash of pomposity at the mixing desk.
On the other hand, the sorrowful dimensions of this art are impressive. The folk songs are far more interesting than the low fidelity metal posturing. ‘Drömsång’ presents a masterful stitching together of minor chords in clean mode with fragile throat harmonies. ‘Trollsång’ is astonishing for its virginal beauty and blissful flutes. There’s enough to warrant a second listen here, not least in ‘Vigil’, which imitates Darkthrone’s trinity of albums in the early 1990s until a stunning reset to multi-layered choral vocals at 01:24.
Unfortunately, fifty percent of Morning Star is derivative black metal with all the worst clichés to disengage the listener. Why bother using blast beats if you can’t even hear the drum snare? Is it acceptable in metal to employ electric guitars that sound weaker than The Clash’s Combat Rock? ‘Gates’ will take you to the gates of sleep rather than the gates of hell. ‘Land av evig natt II’ is what it sounds like if you turn down the volume control on a Mayhem rehearsal from 1990.
The Crying Orc’s appreciation of melody is his saving grace. The title-track could be used in any arthouse film directed by Lars Von Trier, and the ghost notes in the main beat are as enjoyable as the intimate vocal phrasings. It’s a big “if”, but you might appreciate this LP of seventeen songs if you can see past its flaws.
Kirk Houghton
Verdict
Release Date: 27/03/2026
Record Label: Sacred Bones Records
Standout tracks: Drömsång; Genom Sorgen; Vigil
Suggested Further Listening: Ulver – Nattens madrigal (1997), Bekmørk – The Path Nocturnal EP (2022), Mork – Syv (2024)