“Sweden’s Seedna are tearing down preconceptions about black metal with their newest album Forlorn. A curious blend of diabolical metal and emotional rock that hearkens black towards the Gothenburg death metal sound, remnants of which can be heard developing in songs, but in their restructuring and reinvention of that treasured noise they’ve acquired a power all to themselves.”
One of my earliest memories from elementary biology class is the amoeba. At school, we would have to draw various diagrams during tests; naturally, for someone with no pretensions to artistic credibility, even at that young age, the amoeba was my absolute favourite. Because, you see, the amoeba has no concrete shape or symmetry. It is free-forming. Nature granted hapless younglings sitting in an examination hall the opportunity to wing the amoeba any which way they could, as long as they labeled its few parts accurately.
The amoeba is a single-celled organism, containing a nucleus at the centre, and quite the variety of cool appurtenances to go with it. Off the top of my mind, these include multiple, filament-like limbs called pseudopods, a “soup of life” consisting of cytoplasm, inner and outer protective walls called endoplasm and ectoplasm, respectively, which surround the cytoplasm, and a food vacuoule for eliminating waste. In common parlance, an asshole.
I used to have nightmares as a kid, of giant amoebas slithering, slipping, gliding down the streets of Bombay in a frenzy of feeding. Peristalsis, a word I only discovered much later, is a phenomenon I can retrospectively apply to the awkward gait of these critters. It is used to signify the contraction-expansion motion of the muscles of the intestine as they move food along the alimentary canal, a long and winding journey which inevitably ends in the violent ejection of fecal matter at some future date.
The amoebic monsters of my dreams peristalzed their way through the city, devouring whole settlements, not by chewing down on them, but by simply shifting and enlarging the peripheries of their ectoplasmic layer so that the objects of their mindless desire would come to be absorbed and assimilated as part of their greater constitution.
A heavy metal amoeba has a sense of conviction as floppy and ill-defined as its namesake-in-nature’s physical contours; yet it makes its life’s work to continuously, nefariously realign the goalposts, to co-opt obstacles to its single-celled world view. It wiggles and waggles, pulses endlessly while bearing down on its target, its living content thinly spread as it strains and reaches, desperately, at the outermost limits of its endurance, its food vacuole never so much as resembling a shriveled anus, eager to shit non-sequiturs through the same orifice it uses otherwise for ingesting nourishment.