Alright, let’s dive into MCDLXIII by Nosferatu 1922. This album ain’t your typical chill electronic vibe—it’s a full-on assault of Harsh Noise Wall (HNW), and if you’re not ready for it, it’ll knock your socks off. Released in 2019 as a self-released project under their own label, this thing feels like a raw, unfiltered scream from the void. It’s got one track—yep, just one—and it’s called MCDLXIII. No frills, no filler, just pure noise chaos.
So, about that track. It’s basically 45 minutes of relentless sound walls slamming into your ears like a freight train made of broken glass. But here’s the kicker—it’s oddly hypnotic. You think it’s all just noise at first, but then you start noticing these tiny shifts, layers creeping in and out, almost like whispers buried deep beneath the storm. It’s the kind of thing that makes you wanna crank up the volume just to see how much your brain can handle before it melts. Honestly? I couldn’t stop thinking about it after listening. It felt like staring into an abyss while the abyss stared back, except the abyss was blasting static straight into my soul.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: "Why would anyone listen to this?" And yeah, fair point. If you’re looking for catchy hooks or bangers to blast at a party, this ain’t it. But there’s something weirdly cathartic about MCDLXIII. It’s like taking a cold shower when you’re overheated—it hurts at first, but then it kinda resets you. The sheer intensity forces you to focus, to sit with discomfort, and maybe even find beauty in the chaos. Plus, it’s short enough that you don’t feel completely drained afterward.
One unexpected thing? Listening to this on headphones vs. speakers is like two totally different experiences. On speakers, it’s aggressive and in-your-face, but on headphones, it gets... intimate? Like, you can actually pick up on those little details I mentioned earlier. Feels personal, almost invasive, like the music’s crawling inside your head. Weird flex, but I dig it.
Anyway, wrapping this up: MCDLXIII isn’t gonna be everyone’s cup of tea—or coffee—or whatever metaphor works here. But if you’re into experimental stuff that pushes boundaries, this album’s worth checking out. Just don’t blame me if your neighbors call the cops because they think a construction site moved in next door. Oh, and fun fact: Nosferatu 1922 clearly has a thing for Roman numerals. Wonder if they’ve got more albums planned for every year between now and MCMXCIX?
