First Prophecy by Ulkum: A Crushing Descent into Metal’s Abyss
Let’s get one thing straight—Ulkum’s First Prophecy isn’t for the faint-hearted. This 2017 release is a brutal collision of Doom, Black, and Death Metal that feels like being punched in the gut while someone whispers apocalyptic poetry in your ear. Hailing from the US and Canada, this self-released beast (with help from labels like Redefining Darkness) hits hard, loud, and unapologetically raw.
The album kicks off with "I. Clothed In The Ashes Of Fallen Brethren," and holy hell, it sets the tone. The riffs are slow-moving avalanches of despair, courtesy of Joshua James Ans on guitar and Aaron Patrick Lott shredding lead lines that sound like they were forged in some infernal foundry. Jonathon Andrew Roll’s drumming pounds like war drums signaling the end times, while Jesse Geirr Conaway’s bass lurks beneath it all, adding depth to the chaos. But what sticks? The vocals. Ans doesn’t just sing—he screams, growls, and howls like he’s channeling every ounce of rage humanity has ever felt. It’s haunting as fuck, man. You don’t forget something like that.
Then there’s "II. Breathe Darkness, Swallow Light." If you thought the first track was heavy, this one drags you deeper into the abyss. The pacing here is relentless, switching between suffocating doom sections and blastbeat-driven fury faster than you can catch your breath. What makes it stick? The lyrics—they’re cryptic but visceral, painting images of desolation and rebellion that crawl under your skin. And when the guitars break into those eerie harmonies near the middle? Chills. Straight-up chills.
Credit where it’s due: the production nails the balance between polished clarity and raw grit. John Allen’s engineering keeps everything tight without losing the organic feel, and David Thames’ artwork matches the music perfectly—dark, foreboding, and dripping with occult vibes. Shoutout to Patrick Broderick too, whose design work ties the whole package together.
So yeah, First Prophecy is an absolute monster. It’s not perfect—it’s messy, chaotic, and at times overwhelming—but damn if that ain’t the point. This album doesn’t hold your hand; it grabs you by the throat and drags you through fire and brimstone.
And here’s the kicker: after listening to this, I couldn’t help but wonder… does Ulkum know they’ve created something so ugly it’s beautiful? Or are they out there somewhere laughing because we’re all still trying to process it? Either way, respect.
