Craft
Fuck the Universe
Southern Lord
They've got a fever and the only cure is true fidelity
The biggest problem with Craft’s Fuck the Universe is how stubbornly it adheres to the most cultish of black metal fundamentals: call it “atmosphere” if you’re feeling generous, or “bad sound” if you’re feeling honest. Either way, this sort of production is only charming inasmuch as it’s not an affectation.
Three albums into a career that—according to label Southern Lord—ends with Fuck, Swedish act Craft continue to deliver what anyone this side of Jandek fandom would consider piss-poor fidelity. Perhaps only Lucifer knows the band’s true intent, but it’s hard to believe that Craft remain incompetent or under-funded this far into their discography. Fuck the universe? Fuck Craft. Fuck ’em for burying such a killer batch of tunes under so much fuckin’ “atmosphere.”
Fuck’s title track, for example, is the type of hit most extreme metal bands either cannot or will not write. Punky, hooky and compositionally straightforward, the song is more reminiscent of Nirvana or AC/DC than the first wave of black metal acts. The rest of Fuck, too, is thick with riffs that teens everywhere would give up their souls to write. And, yet, few will have patience for the album’s limp production, which is marked by drums masquerading as cardboard boxes and guitars that sound as if they were played a whole forest away from the mikes. Songwriting this forceful, this direct, deserves more clarity.
—Brent Burton
