by John Serba

"Darkthrone is for all the evil in man," proclaims the back cover of Transilvanian Hunger, the Norwegian group's fourth release -- but more controversial is the proclamation that contained within was "Norsk Arisk Black Metal," loosely translated, "Norwegian Aryan Black Metal." One would have to be fluent in Norwegian to understand whether or not Transilvanian Hunger boasts a racist agenda, since all lyrics, save for the vampire-themed title track, are "sung" in said dialect, but such a proclamation reeks of a publicity stunt from this batch of antisocial black metallers (further evidenced by the lyrical contributions of Norwegian scenester/convicted murderer/Burzum leader Varg Vikernes). Look past this malarkey, and you'll find, well, an impenetrable wall of noise, a 39-minute blur of mosquito-buzzing guitar riffs, blastbeats, and inhuman howls. The album boasts a subbasement-level production resembling a distant radio broadcast ripe with ambient noise; the most patient of black metal listeners may find some edible scraps amid the production rubble, but only "Over Fjell Og Gjennom Torner" offers respite with a "Raining Blood"-type break amid a flurry of sloppy, basement-level Norwegian Cuisinart grinding. Transilvanian Hunger boasts plenty of notoriety in the metal underground for its almost laughably anticommercial stance, the band having urped up a light-swallowing black hole of a record whose songs may be respectable underneath all the detritus but, hey, good luck finding 'em. Some will proclaim Darkthrone as the one outfit that stayed true, through most of its career, to the filth-encrusted ethics of the nasty early-'90s Norse black metal scene -- i.e., no frilly keyboards, symphonic wankery, or professional studios -- and maybe Transilvanian Hunger is a testament to the band's unwavering stance, but actually listening to it is another matter entirely. Like most of Darkthrone's early material, it's an unpleasant dentist-drill experience that only the unholiest of unholies will pretend to enjoy.