Album Review: Nil Abyss – Nil Abyss
Released in 2012, Nil Abyss by the US-based black metal act Nil Abyss is a raw, unfiltered journey into despair and sonic chaos. Self-released under Not On Label and later picked up by Regimental Records, this album doesn’t hold your hand—it grabs you by the throat and drags you into its abyssal world. With only four tracks, it’s short but leaves an impact that lingers long after the final note fades.
The opening track, “Soliloquy Of Dying,” sets the tone with a wall of screeching guitars and blastbeat drumming that feels like being caught in a storm. The vocals are a mix of guttural growls and shrieks, creating an unsettling atmosphere that perfectly matches the title. What sticks with me about this song isn’t just its intensity—it’s how it builds tension without ever fully letting go. By the time it ends, you’re left breathless, wondering what hit you. It’s not polished or perfect, but that’s exactly why it works. This kind of rawness reminds you that music can still feel dangerous.
Then there’s “Failure Aesthetics,” which somehow manages to be even darker. The riffs here are slower, almost hypnotic, drawing you deeper into the band’s bleak vision. Around the halfway mark, everything drops out except for a haunting guitar melody that feels like staring into an empty void. It’s one of those moments where you pause whatever you’re doing and just listen. Tracks like this don’t rely on flashy solos or gimmicks—they let the mood do all the talking. And damn, does it talk loud.
The other two tracks, “Orifice Religion” and the self-titled closer “Nil Abyss,” round out the album with more of the same relentless energy. But honestly? If you’re diving into this record, it’s the first two songs that’ll stick with you. They’re not just memorable—they’re unforgettable, like scars you didn’t know you had until they start throbbing.
What’s wild about Nil Abyss is how it feels both ancient and modern at the same time. It’s rooted in the traditions of black metal but doesn’t try to mimic its forefathers too closely. Instead, it carves out its own space in the genre—a claustrophobic, suffocating corner where hope goes to die. Listening to it now, over a decade later, it still sounds fresh, like something bubbling up from the underground that refuses to be ignored.
In the end, I couldn’t help but think: if albums were people, Nil Abyss would be the quiet guy at the back of the room who looks harmless until he suddenly flips a table and screams at everyone. You won’t forget him anytime soon.
