However, I have two issues with the packaging: firstly, the font used for practically all the written information is almost akin to a graffiti type font; which jars against the hand-drawn “Hrefnesholt” logo, as well as being utterly incongruous with the woodland feel. Secondly, the packaging contains two fairly nondescript cards with similar forest imagery; these aren’t secured in the card inlay in any way, and just flounder loose in the bag. This might appear to be nit-picking, but for a project with such a minimal, focussed aesthetic (and one that appears to aim at some kind of overwhelming beauty or intensity), these minor things become major flaws for me: they show a lack of attention to detail, a lack of rigour.

The music, on the other hand, is often rigorous if nothing else. The essential sound is a quite minimal mix of “folk” elements with more martial sounds, with spoken word on top and some distorted guitars; all of which are delivered from a clear black metal context. A key element of Hrefnesholt is percussion, sometimes military snares, but more often very primitive metals and skins; these are played in very simple patterns, and often processed through reverbs and delays. Guitars and keyboard parts make up the bulk of “Uraungst” though, but none of them sound particularly enchanting. “Hexnfeia” starts with a quite unpleasant sounding, delayed guitar; which is curiously superseded in the “chorus” by the blizzarding sound of black metal guitars - curious because drum parts can clearly be heard underneath, to the extent that I assume it is a sample from another song altogether. The keyboard parts are either pastoral, airy and pretty, or stern and martial - but in the former mode, they sound more chocolate-box than beautiful; and in the latter, the casio-esque qualities of the sounds carry no gravitas. The track structures are where the rigour of Hrefnesholt is best displayed though, alas. “Wurzlmann” is a fair example of this: a twelve minute track whose structure I could probably unfairly describe as: ABABABAB… ad nauseum. “Uraungst” is often simple and repetitive, but without the redemptive powers of hypnotism or enthralment; its generally just painful drudgery. The penultimate track, “Dunklmoos”, is probably the most convincing piece; with a seventies horror theme feel to the guitar and melody, and a quite anthemic blazing chorus. But, again, the track is compromised by poor details: an uninspiring drum machine sound, and a weak, whispered vocal that struggles to keep any kind of time with the chorus.

The vocals are clearly an important part of Hrefnesholt’s sound, but they remain beyond my understanding. (The titles appear to be written in a bastardised german…) According to Percht’s spiel, they concern ancient myths of the Upper Austrian forests; but past that, I can’t tell you anything. They’re delivered in sombre tones, with various degrees of effect processing. Unfortunately, in “Fuchtelmandln” and “Wurzlmann”, this restrained, but portentous, delivery boils over, and borders on self-parody.

“Uraungst” is quite a clean, flat sound-world; and its only the use of field recordings which adds any different textures. To be fair, Hrefnesholt have aimed at an enveloping environment of sound - to the extent of using birdsong, fire crackle, wind and rain sounds, etc - and in that respect, a more “ambient” production makes sense. The album has a New Age feel in many ways. This makes the apparent mixing error at 6:00 in “Wurzlmann” - a quickly clipped percussive strike - all the more glaring…

I think, in a nutshell, “Uraungst” basically collapses under the weight of its own pomposity. I’ve heard recordings with much greater potential for pretentiousness, but they have been saved by a weight and content that Hrefnesholt just don’t have access to on this album; though this is, of course, allowing for the grey area of the lyrics.