Haust: No

Norwegian crustpunks revel in damage and defiance

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After childish disobedience and blunt teenage angst have given way to the blanket cynicism of the young adult, the concept of ‘no’ takes on an altogether different meaning. And as such the returning enfant terribles of Norwegian punk, Haust could scarcely have picked a more appropriate title for their first record in three years.

‘No’ implies belligerent stubbornness, directness and unwavering rejection; ‘no’ say’s “fuck you” for no other reason than to say “fuck you”. Written in only two weeks and committed to tape in only one hour, No is a searing, bile-spewing and crust-caked realisation of that sentiment.

And yet emerging from the wilfully repellent production, and beyond the snarling black metal attitude to numbers like Swells or the caustic mess of Mantra – dripping in the evil anguish of Vebjørn Møllberg’s vocals and early Burzum-esque guitar wreckage – lurk instrumentals Night and Dead Of Night, both draped in a sort of claustrophobic melancholy and a keen yet unsettling sense of melody.