25th February 2016 | 0 Comments

Kristoffer Oustad – Filth Haven

Filth Haven

Kristoffer Oustad may be better known as half of the Swedish/Norwegian industrial duo Kristoffer Nyströms Orkester, but aside from a passing recognizance of his name, all I had to go on was that his debut solo release is on Malignant Records. Based on their current output, that was enough to pique my interest, and that assumption turns out to be well-founded.

The opening note of Filth Haven is a heavy, ominous synth tone, drenched in reverb; the rhythm between the two main notes/chords of “Elberton 1979” is slow yet organic, like the pace of your breath while asleep. A recording of a man’s voice fades into the mix, but at the 1:27 mark, I catch the words “South Carolina”—where I grew up—and my listening goes from “active” to “rapt.” The audio sample is of a man relaying the story of the construction of the Georgia Guidestones; America’s Stonehenge, which may or may not be part of the Luciferian New World Order. If there was a point in your life where you read a lot of William Cooper and almost joined the Freemasons, then “Elberton 1979” is likely to send chills down your spine. The first man’s voice is replaced with another man, slightly louder and more audible. “Hold on a minute,” he says, “today’s population is six billion. They want to maintain humanity under 500 million. Looks like a lot of people are going to die.” A piercing squeal rises out of the synth reverb, slowly rising and falling, fading in and out, before the piece drifts completely into silence.

Kristoffer Oustad

“Traveller” picks up in a similar tonal range, but with less ebb and flow. The main embellishments are in the form of plucked strings, high-pitched electronics, and a crunching textural undertone. They all blend into one another seamlessly, sculpting the piece at a glacial pace before giving way to an ambient wall. Each component is allowed space to grow and change, but in staggered spans of time. The pacing of each individual facet is the difference between aeons and epochs.

The midway point of “Row Me Over” opens with field recordings of bird calls and, based upon the title, the sound of a boat rowing through water. A low, pounding bass keeps pace as dark, melancholy synths slowly shift and layer over one another before fading into the sound of crashing waves. Especially in the context of this track, the thematic structure of each track is apparent; the composition practically implores to be set to moving images.

Surprisingly, the shorter pieces on the album are the ones that hold my attention the least. They come and go too abruptly. None of the shorter tracks are “bad” per se, but Oustad succeeds most when his work has space to grow and decay. Tracks like “Anti-Clockwise Rotation” and “The Arch” pulse methodically but lack the emotive indulgence of “Traveller” and “Row Me Over.”

Filth Haven is like a piece of fine art that gains definition the closer you move towards the piece. From a distance you see a singular entity, but the individual role of the components within each track is masterfully utilized to create a cohesive whole. There is a definite core to this release that draws from a sense of melancholy and foreboding, and with Oustad at the helm, this is a journey worth taking.