Konkurs (2008) - Lifelover

Konkurs—the Swedish word for bankruptcy—is a fitting title for one of depressive black metal’s most emotionally desolate and urbanized masterpieces. Released in 2008, Konkurs marks Lifelover’s most coherent descent into emotional collapse, drug-addled spirals, and the grey monotony of modern life. It’s not the forest-dwelling isolation of classic DSBM, but something more real, more suffocating: the bleakness of apartment blocks, shattered routines, insomnia, and urban decay.

The album serves as a grim document of mental illness, addiction, and depersonalization. While earlier works like Pulver felt more spontaneous and chaotic, Konkurs is tight, cold, and oddly polished in its despair. Its melodies stick like cigarette smoke, and its lyrics sting with brutal clarity.

Tracklist:

1. Shallow

2. Mental Central Dialog

3. Brand

4. Cancertid

5. Konvulsion

6. Twitch

7. Narcotic Devotion

8. Alltid - Aldrig

9. Stängt P.G.A Semester

10. Original

11. Bitter Reflektion

12. Mitt Annexia

13. Spiken I Kistan

14. En Tyst Minut

The album begins with Shallow, which perfectly encapsulates the tone of the entire record—hazy, empty, and cold. Spoken passages drift through washed-out guitars and minor-key riffs, creating a sense of detachment that never lets up. Mental Central Dialog follows with a mechanical, looping rhythm and deranged vocals that sound like they’re echoing through hospital corridors. Lifelover don’t scream to the void—they whisper, mutter, and mock themselves into oblivion.

Brand is a fever dream, its tempo bordering on upbeat but with guitars that drip with numbness. When Cancertid arrives, the weight of the album starts to settle. The song’s title translates to “Cancer Time,” and it captures exactly that: a creeping, inescapable disease—not just of the body, but of the mind.

Konvulsion and Twitch follow like panic attacks in slow motion, uncoiling rhythms that feel both manic and exhausted. Then Narcotic Devotion hits—a standout not just for its melancholic riffs but for its lyrical self-awareness. This is the point in the album where the drug themes come through clearest, both chemically and spiritually. Numbness is not a side effect—it’s the destination.

By the time we reach Alltid - Aldrig (“Always - Never”) and Stängt P.G.A Semester (“Closed Due to Vacation”), the album starts to blur the line between satire and surrender. These are songs for those who’ve become ghosts in their own city, wandering between grim routines and collapsing identities.

The final stretch—Original, Bitter Reflektion, Mitt Annexia, Spiken I Kistan (“The Nail in the Coffin”), and En Tyst Minut (“A Silent Minute”)—delivers some of Lifelover’s most emotionally raw moments. The guitars become less jagged, more mournful. The vocals, often whispered or muttered in Swedish, feel like confessions from a soul that no longer believes in healing.

There’s something terrifying about how Konkurs just fades out—no catharsis, no explosion—just silence, like a hallway light going out after the last tenant moves away.

Konkurs is not for the faint of heart, but for those who’ve felt the grey hopelessness of daily life weighing down on their chest, it speaks volumes. It’s clinical, urban, and unapologetically bleak. And yet, there's beauty in its honesty. There’s no mythologizing of pain here—no forests, no ancient evil—just the real, suffocating despair of addiction, routine, and emptiness.

This album is a monument to internal collapse, and for many, it’s Lifelover’s definitive statement. If you're drawn to DSBM that doesn't hide behind lo-fi noise but embraces a polished, modern death of the soul, Konkurs will resonate like few others.