Bodies On Everest unleash haunting debut album ‘The Burning’

'The Burning' by Bodies On Everest

‘The Burning’ by Bodies On Everest

Five tracks long and just shy of an hour, ‘The Burning’ is the debut album from Bodies on Everest. Utter doom from start to finish, this first release is an opening into their world, daring you to enter.
Atmospheric and haunting, the trio lead a howling, unrelenting assault in first two tracks ‘Violence Funeral’ and ‘Descendant Of A Russian Witch’, before abandoning you in the deafening silence that makes up most of ‘Woodland Burial’ The thumping groove of the former tracks makes way for a slow rumble in the latter.
Beast In Space’ continues the assault, with screaming vocals and ear-tingling distortion, whilst the mammoth 16 minute closer ‘Drowning In Tar’ is a chaotic, screaching journey down the rabbit hole, with no escape.

Heavy as fuck and with feet firmly on distortion pedals, Bodies On Everest is made up of two bass guitarists and a drummer. Released at the beginning of March, The Burning is free to download via their Bandcamp, and you can listen at the end of this post. Reaching out to the band for comment, all I got back was this cryptic message…

From what I’ve been told, BODIES ON EVEREST are a three piece
Liverpool & Manchester based noise rock band, formed in 2014 and
consisting of –

BAYNES – Bass, Vocals

WÁRS – Bass, Vocals

GOLD – Drums, Vocals

But all I know for certain is the dog’s head was just there, one day. In
the blink of an eye it was floating above the town, moving around in a
triangular pattern,
spewing what looked like a kind of yellow foam that would
sometimes soak some poor individual below.
For a while You’d get nauseous, you’d get a fever, you’d
insist you were fine. You’d drop out of sight for a little while. The
cars stopped working, sometimes lights would go off. Doors wouldn’t
open. Smoke instead of water. Salt instead of smoke. Drains would
groan, sugar would combust out of nowhere. Nobody paid much attention
soon after. Hollowed & split trees hung dead in the air, but life went on.

I suppose it always will.

The dog’s head is still there, triangle after triangle, night after night.

Burning, forever.’

 

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