Powers of Horror by Haust: A Sonic Descent Into Chaos
If you’re looking for something that punches you in the gut and then whispers cryptic nonsense into your ear, Powers of Horror by Haust might just be your new favorite album. Released back in 2010 from Norway—a country that seems to churn out dark, gritty music like it’s nothing—this record doesn’t play nice. It’s raw, abrasive, and dripping with attitude. Think black metal meets lo-fi punk with a dash of experimental madness thrown in for good measure. This isn’t background music; this is “lock yourself in a room and feel everything” kind of stuff.
Let me start with "Shit Hit," because holy hell, what a way to kick things off. From the first screech of feedback, it feels like someone dropped you into a chaotic fever dream. The guitars are jagged, the drums sound like they were recorded inside an oil drum (in the best possible way), and Vebjørn Møllberg’s vocals? Pure venom. You can practically hear him spitting every word at you. I dunno if it’s the energy or the sheer audacity of it all, but this track sticks to your brain like gum on a hot sidewalk. It’s messy, ugly, even—but goddamn, it’s alive.
Then there’s “Nekromantik Norway,” which sounds exactly how its title suggests: grimy, unsettling, and kinda brilliant. There’s this relentless groove halfway through that sneaks up on you, almost making you wanna headbang despite yourself. But don’t get too comfy—it’s still got that cold, Norwegian edge to it, like frostbite creeping over your fingers. Honestly, I think about this song whenever I need a reminder that life is weird and wild and sometimes gross as hell. And maybe that’s the point?
The whole thing was stitched together by Ruben Willem, who handled recording, mixing, mastering—you name it. He clearly knew what he was doing, letting the imperfections shine through instead of scrubbing them clean. The artwork by Peter-John De Villiers fits perfectly too, all eerie and abstract, like staring at a distorted mirror. Even the band lineup feels like some sort of twisted family reunion: Pål Bredrup on bass, Dag Otto Basgård smashing the drums, and Ruben himself shredding the guitar. They’re not here to make friends—they’re here to rattle cages.
What gets me most about Powers of Horror is how unapologetically itself it is. No pandering, no trying to fit into any scene. Just pure, unhinged expression. Tracks like “Vomiting” and “Anti-Reproductive” double down on the chaos, while others like “Cold Comfort” take a slightly more melodic detour—but never soft enough to let you catch your breath. It’s exhausting, exhilarating, and occasionally baffling—but isn’t that what great art should do? Make you feel something, even if you’re not sure what?
So yeah, give this album a spin if you’re ready to embrace the noise. Just don’t expect answers or comfort zones. In fact, after listening to it, I found myself wondering…is this what snow sounds like when it screams?
(And seriously, who names a track "Istand Alone" twice? Feels like a typo, but honestly, it works.)
