Rock music has long exhausted its vocabulary of revelations, truly. Every attempt to invoke the primordial power of the genre runs into a wall of what’s already been said. And yet there are those who dare to bring their own optics into this scorched wasteland. UZU, whose biography remains an enigma, offers ICHI—eight tracks in which dark hard rock becomes an instrument of apocalyptic prophecy. The album traces the contours of doom through a gothic prism, transforming genre conventions into a futuristic narrative about the last days of light.

ICHI unfolds its eschatological panorama without attachment to scientific rationality or social critique. Here reigns pure iconography of the end: a blackened sun, the ascension of the lord of darkness, the architecture of the underworld. The album functions as a soundtrack to inclement November evenings, when darkness settles on city streets before a person can comprehend its approach. UZU abandons traditional horror cinema in favor of an audial nightmare, where the master of shadows lays out the cards of fate in the black-and-red palette of classic hard rock.

The opening track In The Beginning introduces the listener to the sonic space through the liturgical chime of bells, instantly replaced by a diabolical attack of overdriven guitars. Metallic hissing fills the frequency spectrum with the aggression of a warning sign, yet this warning comes too late—the album has already begun. Hard rock appears here in its most merciless form: devoid of compromise, devoid of mercy, frighteningly beautiful in its absoluteness. The gothic metal introduction declares a manifesto: this is merely a prologue to the true descent.

Choke thickens the atmosphere to a point of impossible density. The vocals of David Chapman, treated with floating effects, hover above the sonic mass the color of a metallic storm, creating a hypnotic dark-gothic continuum. Particularly noteworthy is the imitation of an insect’s buzzing piercing through the roar of electric guitars—this device adds a thrash dimension to the track, competing with the intensity of the opening composition. For devotees of heavy music, Choke will spread across the glass of perception with metallic chords, becoming a riot of elements where hurricane winds tear off the roofs of conventions and shatter all semblance of calm into splinters.

I Am The One demonstrates a futuristic turn, taking the song beyond the framework of conventional hard rock. The track is built around a catchy central chord, framed by vocal screams and fragments of recitative. The sound embodies the absolute power of a supreme force, invincible by means of earthly physics. Crackling and hissing create the effect of an underground tunnel where surface light is powerless to penetrate. Everything here brings the listener closer to hell and its might, where laws operate radically different from earthly ones. The fierce energy of the music generates a sensation of something colossal, untamed, invincible. There’s nothing to oppose this force—only David Chapman with his recitative marks the presence of the human factor. Perhaps this is precisely the atmosphere scientists discover when penetrating the planet’s depths and measuring its abysses.

PU239 functions as a respite in the album’s dramaturgy. A distant rumble of a crowd overlays a pulsating bell texture, devoid of screeching guitar parts. Light keyboards create a swaying effect, yet voices sound with tension and sorrow, albeit statically. The composition radiates sympathy tinted with darkness, stripped of overt gloom. This is light rain against a gray sky, these are pleas addressed to higher powers.

Hurt Youlseft presents a gothic ballad. Guitars retreat to the background, yielding to a drawn-out slow tempo evoking associations with sweet pulsating pain. The balladic character of the track penetrates to the very essence of the listening experience. For those tired of the insistence of distorted guitars, Hurt Youlseft will offer the sweet smeariness of jam. Dark sweetness creates a specific effect worthy of a horror soundtrack, where beneath a mask of innocence hides a monster, and an ordinary mannequin turns into a treacherous killer. An excellent track for connoisseurs of dark, forceless music—I would call it a saccharine-gothic proclamation.

Under A Blackened Sun becomes an ode to the Universe with an exquisite acoustic arrangement. Vocals solo against the backdrop of ensemble sound, pulsating bass lines, chords in low registers. The contrast generates a sensation of cosmic scale. This is a collective appeal of earthlings to the sky, where the sun has blackened. An apocalyptic landscape of dried plants paints a new world, hostile to life.

The final track March Malaen plunges into the chaos of a muted chorus against the backdrop of a barely discernible instrumental introduction. Moans, sobs, strange laughter complete the picture of the underworld, showing what awaits the world after the sun—the source of all life—has lost its light. The futuristic picture stylishly reveals the altered essence of those who survived the fading of Earth’s main luminary. Acoustic elements create otherworldly effects, saturating the track with a light mystical sound. Perhaps the world will be ruled by beings unknown to modern civilization. This is precisely the picture painted by blurred acoustic effects mixed with barely noticeable moans and weeping that delights the ear of connoisseurs of gothic aesthetics.

ICHI by UZU presents the story of the world through a prism where everything—from special effects to musical accompaniment—works to create a cohesive statement. The dark side of existence unfolds with jeweler’s precision, providing UZU the chance to redefine the coordinates of hard rock with their own creation. The genre has seen many attempts to visualize the future, yet no album before has revealed the apocalypse with such conviction as ICHI. Here are conveyed the darkest pictures of futurism, including reflections on what awaits the world after the final cataclysm. This is a case where music surpasses cinema in conveying the palette of darkness, helping to overcome fear of it and to contemplate: perhaps pain possesses less destructive force than commonly believed? Perhaps evil constitutes just as integral a part of life as storm, wind, thunderstorm, hurricane?

ICHI offers a worthy reading of hard rock, deserving the attention of those stuck in the captivity of anxiety and powerless to cope with fear. The album genuinely lifts one out of melancholy, forcing one to enjoy dark colors—black velvet, red wine, darkened silver. This is music for November with its particular beauty in dark tones, music that transforms the end into the beginning of a new way of hearing rock.

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