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Krupinské ohne

by Malokarpatan

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javiercthulhu thumbnail
javiercthulhu Awesome album, here in Mexico its so difficult to get this album, i wanted the Vinyl but i guess i was too late to the party
only black metal and other ways of poetry!!!
only black metal and other ways of poetry!!! thumbnail
only black metal and other ways of poetry!!! When black metal meets Czech and Slovak metal/rock legends!!!! Favorite track: Krupinské ohne poštyrikráte teho roku vzplanuli.
Camelus Dromedarius
Camelus Dromedarius thumbnail
Camelus Dromedarius Wow this is a clear step up from their previous works. Malokarpatan is now much more focused, and their playing is tighter, with more intent. Their unique blackened heavy metal with folk, atmospheric, and occult elements make for such a spectacular listening experience. If only I was into this subgenre more so...Malokarpatan is clearly at the top of their game and are one of the best metal acts of our present day.
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IN BIRCHEN GROVES NEAR BABINÁ, THE NETHERWORLD MAGNATE HAS BEEN APPEARING TO US (Late October sun slowly sets above the town, a strange orange gleam lingers over the bushes and shrouds the view above surrounding hills in a dolorous ambience, in which there is present also something devilish. We are entering together, our dear reader, into the region of Krupina during late 17th century. A region, where the old belief survives in secret fellowships of peasants, in which though many times an esteemed townsman is conspired under the veil of night. We thereby ask the reader for discretion, as things forbidden and explicite horrific shall be revealed to them in this history.) In birchen groves near Babiná the netherworld magnate has been appearing to us Once as a goat with black fur, otherwile in the form of a lad in red Hungarian garments His feet were made of stone and eyes were like fists In his name we were witching in the vicinity, as well as other of his servants Under different names they have been introduced to us: Tartareus, Nikhardus, Black Field-Marshal Tartareus, Nikhardus, Black Field-Marshal On the Nativity of the Lord, Walpurgis Night and the Birth of the Virgin Mary we held meetings To renounce the Nazarene and his celestial father And to enter into service of the archdevil Tartareus, Nikhardus, Black Field-Marshal Tartareus, Nikhardus, Black Field-Marshal Dressed in precious Burgundy brocade was he and reveal did he the secrets of the night to us. (In the middle of a remote nocturnal meadow, a pittoresque gathering shoals in ungodly dance, which to readers adept in aesthetics would surely evoke the characters of The Temptation of Saint Anthony by Matthias Grünewald, residing on the famous Isenheim Altarpiece in Alsace. Goblinesque phantasms, expelled by the very goddess Fauna from her domains, they rattle with drums and bagpipes and mock all of God's creation. A donkey, a raven, a black dog and a maiden, they all trample in a circle and fornicate in unnatural unions, accompanied by the guffawing gargle of furry devils.) In sodomitical fashion we have sinned Saint Matthew's Hosts from the church we have trampled on From pouches the horned captain has sprinkled golden ducats to us A noble lord we have called him The witches had candles thrusted in their behinds and so they illuminated the eerie dark blue night.
FROM THE SEMEN OF THE HANGED, A MAGICAL ROOT ARISES (From this scenery we are transferred further towards more sinister places: in dim corners behind the town, the gallows hill is towering, generally avoided by waggoner carriages, as long as they are able to sidetrack it on a more merry path. Not by witch covens though, as they are well aware of the surrounding forbidden ground's magickal qualities. Below the stiff feet of the dead, they search for the strangest root in shape of a tiny man; the root that unlocks the hidden nightly pathways through the sky, through which fetid he-goats and bats carry them towards the secret gatherings of heretics.) From the semen of the hanged, which they discharge in death throes Arises the earthly mannikin, known as the devil's candle to farmers and as mandrake to learned men Upon the gallows hill we have harvested it, as the coven leader has advised to us At night, on the first Monday after the vernal equinox it emanates a light alike that of a lantern, which infatuates the fireflies White and bluish flowers, thrice we have encircled with a sword Nearby we have tied a dog, starved for three days, in front of which a piece of meat was thrown... (The witches, unmoved by the ghastliness of the place, preserve the root carefully in a piece of canvas and their silent procession through moonless landscapes carries on towards the Krupina kirkyard, where they have to duly place the mandrake according to ancient instructions, before it will be ready for their further sorceries and magickal operations.) ...so he would pull the magic root out and we would avoid its screech, which summons lunacy and death In the middle of the cemetery we have buried the root, and watered it for thirty nights with milk in which bats have been drowned Until finally we have exhumed it from the grave and folded it into a cadaver's shroud So it would serve us for witching
UPON A BLACK HORSE WE RODE THE FIRMAMENT (A forlorn windy day spreads above the Krupina Plain. Upon the Butcher's side, over the Rocky Sea and Krupinica meandering through the boulders, the witches are gathered. They look up to a burly figure, whose head is surrounded by a blue flame – similar to St. Elmo's fire, often observed by seafarers in faraway lands. A reader acquainted with occult sciences might also wander off with his thoughts to the teaching of Paracelsus, wherein elementals, notably their fiery species Salamanders are mentioned.) Hailstorms, whirlwinds and frost we were invoking when the deuce commanded us From a black leather sack we have released cold whirlwinds up to the hills of Štiavnica There was no harvest in the vineyards that year when we poured dew over them thoroughly and carried ice in wooden watering pots Perdition and wreck we have brought onto the whole Hont County Children have gone blind and lame, in feline shapes we have choked their families (The witches one by one report their doings to a curious nobleman, dressed in the latest Aragonese fashion, from whose velvet stockings there are but hooves sticking out. The damped auburn chiaroscuro of the evening makes winter's proximity to be felt and lends dreamful features unto those attending. Time stands still and these last moments of freedom belong only to them: followers of an ancient faith, hidden among common folk – a faith from when the world was young and wild Pan hunted under the stars in Arcadian forests.) The cows we have hexed and withdrew their milk Only those who anointed themselves with the lard of a boar and wild succory, buried a horse skull under the doorstep, they eluded our malefic powers On Red Mountain the devil had his evil ways with us, with a ram's phallus he fornicated the witches, with charcoal from the mines instead of ducats he had paid for nefarious deeds Upon a black horse we rode the firmament, performing diableries under the curatorship of Luciper.
WALPURGIS NIGHT ON THE ŠTANGARÍGEL ROCKS (Facing a sylvan altar made of andesite, cast out from earth's bowels in time immemorial, Žofia Krištofíčka raises her hands, Crooked Katruša's apprentice in witchery. Vernal stars light their torches above Štangarígel, it is the great Walpurgis Night – a time of fertility and joy. Elementals arise from their hidden abodes and the earth pulsates with an untamable life – summer is ready to regain the sceptre.) Allow my heart into the nights of summerlands You who command the crepuscular reich O' aristocrat of the chasms, emperor over beasts, I long for the secrets of your hypogean halls! All-penetrating eye in the green darkness From the top of Sitno you gaze down, in the form of an enormous bear Illuminate the path of my sisters, who by the hooting of owls wander through crossroads, gallow hills and ruins (A ray of green light bursts out from among the rocks.) On this sacred night, I abjure the foreign teaching, which dulled our senses so much Silver of the stars and fireflies, be the guides on my path! Tho' a dungeon and hangman's tongs may be at its end, or the red glare of Elohim's flames! Our mission persists through the shifting of times – unmoved inside remote stone circles; in shelter of the most miserable cabins the spells of the past dwell forgotten by the pigeon-hearted man, who still turns his other cheek to the kicking boot, that feeds him with mouldy bread! (A robust horned man appears, with green skin and green hair, crowned with leaves. Upon the naked body of Krištofíčka he casts a sign of their new union, thereby accepting her into his faith.)
THE FIRES OF KRUPINA HAVE BEEN SET ABLAZE FOUR TIMES THAT YEAR (Within the lightless corners of the town dungeon, among rats, in hay soaked with bodily fluids, the witches lie waiting for the final judgement after manifold torture interrogations. Even the sturdiest have in the end confessed that at nights they foregather with the One who walks in the shadows of nature, and that he has taught them the forbidden Magia Innaturalis.) Our nails they have torn down, mauled the fingers, constricted the forearms with ropes, with straw bundles and candles burnt the forspent bodies, Spanish boots were applied to our feet and the wooden horse was our painful throne. Finally, the coven was put into iron cages and burnt at the stake in front of the city walls, some have been decapitated by the executioners as a gesture of mercy. That was in the year when fires burnt across Krupina, in sixteen seventy-five during the reign of Leopold of Habsburg, Holy Roman Emperor. The fires of Krupina, four times set ablaze Before the final judgement, the heretics stood The fires of Krupina, four times set ablaze Over the pyre, winds from Sitno have blown Crooked Katruša, Žofia Krištofíčka, Bohuš Ďuríčka, Piatková Doriša Their bodies marked by the devil, consumed were in flames But not their ancient belief in night's secrets and in moon of the hunters It survived in clandestine tunnels beneath the city in wild forests and lonesome cabins The fires of Krupina, four times set ablaze Before the final judgement, the heretics stood The fires of Krupina, four times set ablaze Over the pyre, winds from Sitno have blown (Bound to the pyre, Crooked Katruša leaves the world with a final vision that brings a peaceful smile on her wrinkled face: in the distance over a mountain, upon dragon's breath floats a green light, which is but an emerald and this emerald has fallen from an enormous crown beyond this world.) Where the jealous light of Jerusalem's god cannot reach Four times has been Krupina set ablaze that year and lo – the first of the flames was a sign from the horned captain. Remember their bequest, and carry ye on the torch of Pan: the terrifying flame of knowing, which was handed to humankind at the dawn of time.


released March 20, 2020


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Malokarpatan Slovakia

Dark heavy metal from the eastern woodlands - also known as black metal.

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