It seems unlikely that any musical artist records a cover of a song unless the song means something important to them. Oh, undoubtedly we might find examples where someone just made a cynical calculated effort to draft off the talent of someone else for their own benefit, but more likely it’s a sign of genuine affection and admiration, and that’s what we have in the song we’re premiering below.
In this instance the obscure Canadian solo project Cloven recorded a cover of “The Madness of Serpents” by The Devil’s Blood, expressly as a tribute to the late Selim Lemouchi. It may also be a farewell to Cloven as well as Lemouchi, though we understand that before the end comes there will be a Cloven album that includes the recording you’re about to hear.
Some covers are rigidly faithful to the original; the most interesting ones are not. Here, Cloven pays its tribute through morphosis.
The original version of this song was included on The Thousandfold Epicentre, released in 2011. It hammers and clangs, viscerally bounces and vibrantly flickers, reflexively compelling in its rocking grooves but also casting dark and devilish spells.
It also gradually slows and drifts away into gentle but chilling sonic hallucinations, a different kind of seduction and even more unearthly in its ethereal and inviting sensations. Just as gradually, the music also again ramps up, getting its hooks in our reptile brains again as it shines and writhes, but also sounding downright infernal at the end. The words are worth pondering:
For you I will make a world devoid of love
And I’ll make your love to fill the void
One eye sees glory, the other does cry, the Third sees Truth and grows blind
For I am alike unto whited graves
As I appear, beautiful in skin
But within I am filled with dead man’s bones
And of all Unclean and Sin
Move to me in wild contortions
Enchant me with blight and sore
Yes, move to me you fucking Whore
Into the madness of Serpents
Cloven‘s cover puts some twists on the original, and the result is darker — both fascinating and bleakly moving, heavier and more haunting. It generates the hallucination in its own opening phase, with spoken words in the mix. And then it swells in power, slower than the original and massively heavier in its low-end throbs, with vocals that are more shattering and scarring.
But it too vibrantly shines and swirls, simultaneously magnifying the music’s intensity and casting their own spell. The throbs begin to sound like bombs going off, the surrounding sounds begin to sear — and then it too begins to drift away, but with the mournful tones of a violin or cello leading the way, accompanied by strange whistling and warbling tones that add their own distress.
We don’t yet know a release date or title for Cloven‘s next album (and maybe its last one), but when we do, we will let you know.
https://cloven137.bandcamp.com/
