CAEDES CRUENTA – Ὅρκος ἐκλεκτῶν

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7.0

• Bands:
  CRUENT CAEDES
• Duration: 01:30:44
• Available from: 04/30/2026
• Label:

• Zombi Danz Records

After five years of silence, Caedes Cruenta re-emerge from the shadows with Ὅρκος Ἐκλεκτῶν, their fourth work and declaration of intent that knows no half measures: over ninety minutes in length, twelve tracks and the architecture of a double album that imposes itself as a long and abrasive ritual. In short, not a return designed to easily win over new followers, but, on the contrary, an oath aimed at those who already know the rough and hieratic language of the Hellenic black metal of the past. From the first minutes one senses, as usual, the continuity with a very specific tradition, the one carved in the early years of Rotting Christ, evoked here both through some homage – see first and foremost the start of “The Night of Metamorphosis, Part I (Werewolf's Condemnation)” – and through ancient spiritual affinity. Riffs as sharp as ceremonial blades, large structures that open and close like ruined temples, and a use of keyboards that never really softens, but veils everything with a funereal and ritual aura. It is a black metal that advances, weighs down, insists, without ever running at random.

Within this system, Caedes Cruenta also insert other nuances, perhaps not immediately evident, but certainly useful to give a more dynamic edge to the tracklist. The choice to reinterpret “Angel of Disease” by Morbid Angel, for example, does not change the balance of the album, but works as a seal: a declaration of loyalty to an old school aesthetic, visceral and without embellishments, far from certain more folkloristic, almost 'party-like' derivations of the contemporary repertoire of Sakis Tolis' group. The point is precisely this: Ὅρκος Ἐκλεκτῶν does not want to seduce, it wants to absorb. The compositions stretch, deform, close in on themselves like stone corridors. Some episodes exceed ten minutes, built on slow stratifications, on register changes that never really explode gratuitously but follow an explicitly narrative internal logic. The guitars alternate lashing attacks and more melodic digressions, while the drums often proceed like a ritual step, dry and inexorable.

It is, essentially, a work that thrives on atmosphere rather than individual moments. And it is precisely here that its two-faced nature manifests itself: on the one hand the breadth is consistent with the vision, on the other the overall duration ends up diluting some tensions that could have been more incisive. There is certainly no shortage of effective passages, but truly 'fixable' episodes rarely emerge, the kind that remain imprinted upon first impact. The comparison with another particularly fit Hellenic reality, namely the Varathron, is inevitable: where the latter often manage to condense poison and immediacy into more agile forms, the Caedes Cruenta choose the path of density, specific weight, long exposure. A coherent choice, but one that inevitably narrows the potential audience.

Yet, precisely in its obstinacy, Ὅρκος Ἐκλεκτῶν finds its strength, configuring itself as a record that demands full listening and which restores an almost liturgical sense of belonging, as if each song were a fragment of a greater ritual. Imperfect, at times redundant, but firm in its identity: a dark monolith that does not want to please everyone, but remains true to itself until the last echo.