Album Review: Apokalypsis by Chelsea Wolfe

The image that Chelsea Wolfe projects dovetails with the general aesthetic put forth by her label, Pendu NYC. Granted, it'd take the tinniest of ears to conflate Wolfe's music with the witch-house stylings of Mater Suspiria Vision or White Ring. Also, while her music is caustic and challenging in its own way, the semi-industrial loop-heavy aTelecine runs laps around Wolfe in that department.

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Seemingly spurred, Chelsea Wolfe sounds subjected by a fiendish force. An artist whose gaunt facial structure and thin, black hair provokes a mysterious aura, my imagination draws an image of a maiden who is forever tied to the shackles of submission, serving as a lounge singer in the Grim Reaper’s Ball. Carrying a delicate voice that crackles at its edges, she pours her heart out over a drab sound that paints a sinister portrait of a dark romantic novel.

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Remember The Flaming Lips’ music video for Embryonic single “Powerless”? A woman, bound to a chair, in an open field, haunting sounds and voices encompassing the scene. Imagine taking that atmosphere, then stretching it across half an hour of audio. If you thought psychedelic bands selling gummy skulls and fetuses was par for the course, you’d be right.

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Chelsea Wolfe embodies this strange mixture of subtle atypical softness and creepy darkness all at once. She is raw in both image and music, as shown on her sophomore LP, Apokalypsis.The album’s opening track punches you. Wolfe screams on “Primal/Carnal” as if she’s exorcising demons, creating a track that could accompany a scene from Paranormal Activity.

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