Sijjin | Helljjin Combat | Sepulchral Voice Records

 Sijjin formed in 2019 and immediately stood out with their unrelenting commitment to archaic death metal soaked in thrash aggression. Featuring Malte Gericke (vocals/bass), Iván Hernández (drums), and Ekaitz Garmendia (guitars), the trio originally emerged as a spiritual continuation of Necros Christos’ darker visions but quickly forged a more frantic and hellbent identity of their own. Their 2021 debut, “Sumerian Promises,” established them as a force devoted to the mid-'80s infernal metal pantheon—now, “Helljjin Combat” follows as their second full-length, recorded live over ten days in the Basque country’s BlackStorm Studios.

“Helljjin Combat” intensifies Sijjin’s sonic descent with a rawer, more impulsive strike than its predecessor. While “Sumerian Promises” leaned into sinister atmosphere, “Helljjin Combat” strips that back in favor of direct aggression and rhythmic chaos. What defines this release is its commitment to motion—almost every song incorporates intricate tempo changes, maniacal riff progressions, and unhinged vocal exorcisms that channel the foundational madness of “Seven Churches,” “Schizophrenia,” or “Hell Awaits.” The sound is live, dry, and organic—deliberately without polish or artificial separation, amplifying the sensation of a ritual being committed in real time.

Gericke’s vocals are harsher, scratchier, and more desperate than before, approaching a rabid sermon tone, which gives the album a relentless edge. His lyrical themes move between anti-dogmatic rage and visions of infernal punishment. The guitar work is rooted in old-school tremolo picking and thrash-accented savagery but favors long-form composition this time around. Songs like “Fear Not The Tormentor” and “Religious Insanity Denies Slavery” stretch into extended forms that feel like they’re not merely written but channeled—invoking a trance through repetition, contrast, and acceleration.

The live recording approach is integral to its character. Mistakes are either absent or buried beneath the fiery atmosphere, giving it an authenticity and violent spontaneity that’s rare. The dry analog tone refuses to cushion any blows—the drums hit with natural reverberation, the bass grinds below the guitar in thick waves, and Garmendia’s soloing is frayed and tortured, never indulgent.

It’s a continuation of an older philosophy, and while the structures have grown more complex, the conviction remains primitive. There is no gesture toward modern embellishment or genre hybridization. “Helljjin Combat” is purely an invocation of the old ways, performed with venom and stamina.

Score: 8.0