There is something just so inherently evil about Akercocke's early work, particularly on the first two records. Perhaps its the air of elegance that the band bring to a genre that is often delivered with the subtly of a war hammer to the face, or perhaps its the smattering of terrifying noises and soundscapes that the band use to decorate their macabre, sexually-charged satanic hymns.
Rape... is a dirty, dismal maw, taking heavy inspiration from the equally-sordid recounting of the tale of Faust, by Robert Nye. I initially wanted to say that this album isn't as progressive as later records, but coming back to it now after all these years, I see how very, very wrong I am. This is genius.
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