Black Millenium (Grimly Reborn) (2001) - Mütiilation

The third full-length album by Mütiilation, Black Millenium (Grimly Reborn), is a resurrection drenched in self-destruction. After years of silence, betrayal, and rot, Meyhna'ch emerged from the shadows once more with a release that stood not as a triumphant return, but as a scornful curse. This album sounds like it clawed its way out of a coffin buried beneath Parisian gutters, dragging with it the sickness and sadness of Les Légions Noires. It is ugly. It is off-putting. And for those who understand it, it is indispensable.

Tracklist:

1. The Eggs of Melancholy

2. New False Prophet

3. The Hanged Priest

4. Inferi Ira Ductus

5. Black Millenium

6. No Mercy for Humans

7. Feeling the Funeral Breath

8. The Ugliness Inside

9. Black as Lead and Death

From the very first moments of The Eggs of Melancholy, there’s a sense of dislocation—a swaying rhythm, cracked production, and Meyhna’ch’s unmistakable tortured vocals drenched in reverb and spiritual sickness. Mütiilation was never about precision, and this album embodies that philosophy to its core. It’s not just lo-fi—it’s decayed. And that’s the point.

New False Prophet and The Hanged Priest lean into dissonant, almost drunken tremolo riffs that sound like they’re trying to claw their way out of a body too sick to carry them. The drumming lags and surges, never mechanical, always human in the worst way: flawed, desperate, dying. There's an oppressive mood here, as though these songs were recorded under the influence of fever dreams and rotting incense.

The centerpiece is Black Millenium, a title track that swells with an almost grandiose despair. There are moments of melody, but they don’t offer relief—they offer mockery. Meyhna’ch’s riffs are steeped in sorrow, but they never resolve. They only spiral deeper. His vocals are more narration than aggression, like someone reading scripture at the edge of madness.

No Mercy for Humans feels like the manifesto of the album. The misanthropy here isn’t just lyrical—it bleeds into every element of the music. The guitars sneer. The production suffocates. The drums stumble like a dying heart. This is black metal as curse, not performance.

Feeling the Funeral Breath and The Ugliness Inside further the descent, channeling feelings not of hellfire but of mildew, wet stone, and forgotten crypts. The latter track is especially personal—it’s not about Satan or grandeur. It’s about being alone with your own corrosion, and letting it win.

The closing track, Black as Lead and Death, doesn’t conclude anything—it just fades, leaving behind an echo of pain and resignation. It’s not cathartic. It’s confirmation: you were right to despair.

Black Millenium (Grimly Reborn) is not for everyone. Even among black metal fans, it divides. Some hear sloppiness. Others, like myself, hear sincerity. In an era when so much of black metal became obsessed with studio tightness or ideological posturing, Mütiilation remained personal. Dirty. Flawed. Real. This is the sound of one man rotting and telling you what it smells like. And it’s horrifyingly beautiful.

If Dödens Evangelium sounds like a ritual in an abandoned cathedral, this album sounds like the aftermath—when the walls crumble, and only one soul is left to mourn in silence. There are moments when the melodies catch you off guard, buried under layers of distortion and filth, and you realize: this was always about sorrow.