Eternal Darkness | Eternal Darkness | Pulverised Records

 

    Eternal Darkness was formed in 1990 in Eskilstuna, Sweden, at the dawn of Scandinavian death metal’s most fertile years. The founding lineup included Toni Pietilä (lead guitar), Make Pesonen (drums), Janne Heikkinen (vocals), Jarmo Kuurola (rhythm guitar), and Tero Viljanen (bass). Their initial output was limited to two demos and a now-cult 7-inch before fading into silence in 1993. Tragedy struck with the deaths of Jarmo in 1995 and Toni in 2014. Despite these losses, a rebirth began in 2019 with the inclusion of new members John Carlsson (lead guitar), Kristian Henriksson (rhythm guitar), and Jeff Hausel (bass), bringing new momentum to a band that had, for decades, only existed in obscurity and legacy.

After more than three decades, the long-awaited debut album, "Eternal Darkness," arrives in the wake of the band’s unexpected disbanding in April 2025. The album, recorded by longtime friend Peter Bjärgö at the renovated Erebus Odora Studio—once the band’s rehearsal space—carries the final stamp of a group that never compromised and never softened.

"Eternal Darkness" is a slow-moving, towering monolith, anchored in early '90s Scandinavian death and doom. It is heavy in the most physical and psychological sense. Every riff drags like a funereal procession, built around minimal structure and maximum impact. The tuning is deliberately low, set in A, grounding the sound in extreme depth. The tone is crushing, and the pacing is deliberate, yet never plodding. Every track feels like a concrete wall closing in.

The vocals are guttural and raw, delivered without excess. Janne Heikkinen’s voice remains tethered to the grave, rasping out tales of suffering, burial, and finality without theatrics. The dual guitars move between blunt-force rhythms and extended doom dirges with a single-minded purpose. This is music built from pain, for pain. The inclusion of flute (of doom) passages—performed by a child during the recording sessions—is neither whimsical nor out of place, but chillingly effective. These moments aren’t there to surprise but to disturb.

The production preserves the density and cavernous quality of the performances. It brings everything forward with respect and care, giving weight to silence and echo just as much as to distortion and noise. The occasional use of samples adds unease without distraction.

Lyrically, the album is steeped in death, loss, and the irreversible. It is dedicated to the memory of Jarmo Kuurola, Toni Pietilä, and Vendela Bjärgö, which lends genuine emotional gravity to its themes. The texts, written by Sami Salonen, mirror the musical content in their restraint and directness. Nothing here is exaggerated. Nothing is exaggerated because it doesn’t need to be.

"Eternal Darkness" sounds like it was written with no interest in approval or revival. It could have come out in 1992 or 2025 and sounded just as fatal. That it came now, and that it ends the band’s long and painful arc, is its own kind of justice. This is not an album about nostalgia or final words. It is simply an album that exists in the same cold space the band always inhabited.

There are no shades of optimism. No resolution. Just the sound of a band that was always meant to bury, not build. "Eternal Darkness" is unrelenting, sorrowful, and pure in purpose. It stands completely apart, not because it tries to—but because it never needed to try.

Score: 8.6