Mistress of the Dead
Some Funeral Doom to snatch you from your daily death!
It’s time to dig up good and barely known Mistress Of The Dead!
Mistress of the Dead is a one-man band from Czech Republic founded by Vlad Cristea Vales who released a lot of demos and a few full-lenght since 2004.
Concerning the overall atmosphere, the system is based on quite long compositions that gradually evolve and where each instrument takes place in the scene, layer by layer, in order to slowly design the ambience.
Each release contains only few tracks but they are around 10 – 15 minutes.
The ensemble is rich in instruments, the keyboard plays a big part in Vlad’s compositions, responding to the weeping guitars, it makes them rise and breathe. The result is quite theatrical and that funeral doom takes an « ambient » coloration. With Mistress of the Dead, every decor is a painting, everything becomes poetic.
Like Thergothon or Skepticism, it’s funeral, so the vocals are low, harsh and growly. They make you feel the pain, every syllable transmits the disease like a rusty syringe directly to your blood.
Here are my favourites. Those tracks start quite shyly and paint progressively a cold and dark funeral landscape.
You have to listen:
- I Know Her Face From The Tombstone
- Dying Candle and Forgotten Withered Rose
- Henriette’s Message From The Other Shore
I was alone, alone and well…
I like to walk in cemeteries, those in Paris are beautiful and include many beautiful grief statues. I’ve already roamed in the Père Lachaise with Mistress of the Dead in my ears, and I could have stayed there for days.
Funeral doom metal, by its extreme slowness, has the ability to make you lose track of time.
I was there, looking at the tombstones, the statues were watching me, I lingered at the comings and goings of the crows and nothing else mattered… I was alone, alone and well.
Vlad Cristea Vales is a genius. He completely transcends the doom metal genre. The songs are so original they sink deeply into one’s being and one can only be awestruck. Personally, I find his groaning, growling vocalizations of despair, the perfect accompaniment to his beautiful funereal dirges. This music really transports me to other places–underground. Catacombs, Paris’s city of bones…where a half rotted door, to a deeper abyss, opens and the cries, roar up from a bottomless pit. Brilliant. Simply Brilliant.