The Netherlands have been on the spotlight of Underground Black Metal devotees for the last few years with the emergence of a strong productive myriad of artists and labels, compelling and individualistic in its task of delivering the unsettling sound and vision in tune with Black Metal’s treacherous essence.
With its debut record, Turia transposed the rawest, most subterranean approach of some of its territorial contemporaries, bestowing a monolith of hopelessness and anguish with its debut record, an ornament of minimalism and expression flooded with sepulchral Black Metal howls and pace, interlaced with dense slower elements that offered a mournful effect of gloom.
Dede Kondre is the title of the trio’s second endeavor, a conceptual venture that delves into the missionary chronicles of the Maroon (escaped slave) communities, inhabitants of Suriname, a former colony of the Netherlands. Land of the dead in sranan tongo, the main language of Suriname, Dede Kondre was the moniker used by the natives to describe the jungle interior, surroundings from which the clergies recounted pagan, unhallowed and demonic forces. Intense and magnanimous as the concept that spurs it, Dede Kondre is sonically supreme, an entanglement of atmosphere and tension, encompassed by a vigorous, immense sound that encapsulates the trio’s intense approach without ever compromise the shaded aura of melancholy and disbelief that Dor thoroughly displayed. The apotheosis of opening song and album title proposes the mood for what surrounds us during the album’s 41 minutes: firm, freezing cold riffs that build a wall of audial allurement and murkiness in between fast and mid-paced rhythms, treading the way for singer T.’s utterly grief-stricken vocals, an exercise of outright intensity and agonizing affection. Distinctive details such as the reedpipe and shades of keyboard engravings appear as exquisite addendum to the overall aura, professing the idiosyncratic character harvested by Turia in full effect.
Dede Kondre is as addictive as it is distressing, the flaming taste of a record that, more than a blend of music, it is a revelation of sense and spirit.. (text by Mário Souto)