(NCS contributor Zoltar wrote the following introduction to our full streaming premiere of the long-awaited debut album by Sweden's Moondark, which will be released on Friday by Pulverised Records.)

Her name might not matter that much anymore but boy oh boy did she have the look. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about don't you? That one gorgeous looking girl, for whom you had a not-so-secret crush all high-school years long. She filled your dreams and even to this day, although three decades have passed and you've moved to greener pastures with a ring on your finger, three kids, a mortgage, and a beer belly, you can't seem to be able to get rid of, you can't help but think of her from time of time, like a lost relic of bygone times when things seemed simpler and funnier.

And then, totally by random, you bump into her on your way to the supermarket. And boom, without warning, all your teenagers' fantasies are ruined in a nano-second as this once seemingly goddess-like figure turns out to now be ugly, fat, ridden with bad skin problems, and utterly obnoxious.

This Swedish congregation of a bunch of extreme metal and crust/D-beat rebels destined for greater things soon afterwards (Dellamorte, Katatonia, Uncanny, Centinex, Uncurbed, Interment, Necrophobic, etc.) were one of the many one-off things that were legions back in the day. In and out: one album-length demo, one gig, barely one year of existence, and that was it.

Thank you, goodnight, boom.

To those very few who had the chance to listen to The Shadowpath, those seven tracks provided a rare occasion of hearing a Swedish band doing a very unSwedish thing back then (no HM-2 nor any D-beat part in sight), focusing on trying to beat their fellow countrymen Crypt Of Kerberos (before those lads did their best to mix Nocturnus with a Yngwie Malmsteen on lead guitar) and especially Eternal Darkness on being the slowest, heaviest, fattest, and most primitive possible, like a regressed version of Bolt Thrower solely focused on grinding their enemies' skulls under their tanks instead on rushing to the battlefield.

It all went by in a flash and they were gone, with only few limited reissues over the years (the last one being on Filth Junkies Records on tape format earlier this year) reminding us of the initial shock.

Opener 'Where Once Was Life' sets us on our path: introduced by creepy keyboards, a (as perfectly described in the official bio) 'megalithic' riff grabs you by the throat from the get-go and simply refuses to set you free until you're gasping for air. Yet, as bleak and epic as it sometimes is, the band made their best, like on the nearly eight-minutes long 'Suffer The Dark', to send from time to time a lifeline under the form of a simple yet extremely catchy chorus, systematically growled with firm authority by Högbom, only to put the listener head back under the water the next second.

The Abysmal Womb sounds massive, as in massively doom and massively heavy. No fucking around the bush, no intricate arrangements, no useless female vocals, no light at the end of the tunnel: just pure, basic and crushing doom/death. As screamed by Högbom on 'Palliative Dusk', "slooooowww death".

Whereas this monochrome nature could be regarded as restrictive, it's actually the album's strongest asset. Deprived of any unnecessary ornaments or dead weights and steered by solid veterans who know exactly what the fuck they want and what is expected from them, The Abysmal Womb has so much darkness in it it's hard to resist. We here at No Clean Singing didn't even try to, hence our pleasure to offer you an exclusive premiere of this doom/death hammerlock.