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Comes in gatefold cover sleeve, inside jackets are printed with lyrics.

250x SWAMP GREEN COPIES

TRANSPARENT GREEN VINYL, 2022

Reissue on Demons Run Amok Entertainment

Sold out da qualche anno, ecco finalmente una ristampa per l'acclamato "Seasons of Desolation": copertina gatefold, vinile effetto 'Aside-Bside' in verde e nero

Emotionally raw and brutally savage release following in the tradition of 2015's Arpitanian Lands. Enisum have managed to mix elements of atmospheric black metal and doom metal into ten perfect songs for this album.

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Comes in 8-panel digipak 2CD with an additional booklet.
 

Darkness is falling. A cold wind blows from the snow-covered Carpathians, making the windows rattle and the corners of the house creak. Something is coming, eyes flashing red in the night and its footprints filled with grave dirt. What nocturnal terror is this? Why, it’s the arrival of the long-awaited third album by The Coffinshakers, folks.

While most bands quickly lose the spark, The Coffinshakers have stayed relevant – eternal like the undead. Though humor is their hallmark, there is also poignancy and something genuinely spine-tingling in their rugged, melancholy ballads. And this new offering shows them at the height of their baleful, campy power. They truly are a band that ages like fine wine – although vampires, of course, never drink… wine.

Much will be familiar to dedicated fans. Rob’s trademark malevolent chuckles still reverberate with sardonic glee, the deep rumble of his voice continuing to send all yellow-bellies hiding behind the barn. At the same time, his vocals have gained in both power and subtleness. The same goes for the guitar, bass, and drum work, now incorporating a broader array of classic Americana influences. These unholy badmen have drunk the blood straight from the neck of the authentic country, bluegrass, folk and other rootsy music of inbred US backwaters – and it has made their fangs sharper than ever.

And though The Coffinshakers still ride forth with tongue firmly planted in cheek, there is a new apocalyptic urgency to their third offering. From the marching drums of the desolate “Graves, Release Your Dead” to the echoing vocals of “River of Souls” and the cathartic cataclysm of “Down in Flames”, it all forebodes the imminent end of the whole dirty enchilada of existence. The band’s flippancy comes with a genuinely unsettling kernel of darkness – and black humor is always the most satisfying. Vampires may not cry, but we all know they laugh wickedly as they rise from the bone orchard.

Darkness is falling. A cold wind blows from the snow-covered Carpathians, making the windows rattle and the corners of the house creak. Something is coming, eyes flashing red in the night and its footprints filled with grave dirt. What nocturnal terror is this? Why, it’s the arrival of the long-awaited third album by The Coffinshakers, folks.

While most bands quickly lose the spark, The Coffinshakers have stayed relevant – eternal like the undead. Though humor is their hallmark, there is also poignancy and something genuinely spine-tingling in their rugged, melancholy ballads. And this new offering shows them at the height of their baleful, campy power. They truly are a band that ages like fine wine – although vampires, of course, never drink… wine.

Much will be familiar to dedicated fans. Rob’s trademark malevolent chuckles still reverberate with sardonic glee, the deep rumble of his voice continuing to send all yellow-bellies hiding behind the barn. At the same time, his vocals have gained in both power and subtleness. The same goes for the guitar, bass, and drum work, now incorporating a broader array of classic Americana influences. These unholy badmen have drunk the blood straight from the neck of the authentic country, bluegrass, folk and other rootsy music of inbred US backwaters – and it has made their fangs sharper than ever.

And though The Coffinshakers still ride forth with tongue firmly planted in cheek, there is a new apocalyptic urgency to their third offering. From the marching drums of the desolate “Graves, Release Your Dead” to the echoing vocals of “River of Souls” and the cathartic cataclysm of “Down in Flames”, it all forebodes the imminent end of the whole dirty enchilada of existence. The band’s flippancy comes with a genuinely unsettling kernel of darkness – and black humor is always the most satisfying. Vampires may not cry, but we all know they laugh wickedly as they rise from the bone orchard.

Comes in quadrifold digipack with transparent plastic O-card.