Saturnalia Temple Aion of Drakon Nuclear Winter / Ajna 2011 Six transmissions picked up from the outer orbit of Yoggoth bring the swirly-eyed horror of alien wizards’ black magic Metal rippling through the bottom end of creation. Talk about your rough slouching beasts. Music formed into some golem-like thing that sounds like it ate Dax Riggs, now lurching toward the threshold of our realm on a loop with hands that paw unable to steady a solo  run. They say DOOM and I say “Eh, could be worse.”Like not wearing your helmet on a date with Jef Whitehead (or handing him the wrong needle at the motel afterward). Outweighing these average tunes you got Dennis Dread’s artwork covering front, inside and back in one of the best examples you’ll ever see of an artist incorporating an album’s title and track list into the picture itself. More than that, the combined imagery of a lone figure ascending temple steps through the darkness of blood-drenched jaws to cyclopean jewel gleaming within black ritual chamber burning with incense as a sorceress does the “She Rides” grind while raising high the sacrificial dagger and living smoke of black lotus curls up searching her wicked gaze, is not to be missed. [TD] Review from Chips & Beer The Magazine #2
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Saturnalia Temple

Aion of Drakon

Nuclear Winter / Ajna

2011

Six transmissions picked up from the outer orbit of Yoggoth bring the swirly-eyed horror of alien wizards’ black magic Metal rippling through the bottom end of creation. Talk about your rough slouching beasts. Music formed into some golem-like thing that sounds like it ate Dax Riggs, now lurching toward the threshold of our realm on a loop with hands that paw unable to steady a solo  run. They say DOOM and I say “Eh, could be worse.”Like not wearing your helmet on a date with Jef Whitehead (or handing him the wrong needle at the motel afterward). Outweighing these average tunes you got Dennis Dread’s artwork covering front, inside and back in one of the best examples you’ll ever see of an artist incorporating an album’s title and track list into the picture itself. More than that, the combined imagery of a lone figure ascending temple steps through the darkness of blood-drenched jaws to cyclopean jewel gleaming within black ritual chamber burning with incense as a sorceress does the “She Rides” grind while raising high the sacrificial dagger and living smoke of black lotus curls up searching her wicked gaze, is not to be missed. [TD]

Review from Chips & Beer The Magazine #2

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