To hear Midnight is to hear metal – black, thrash, speed or whatever else you’d try to dub them – in its most gloriously primal, unreconstructed, unpretentious form. There are no misunderstood, hastily-Googled occult symbols here, no pretending to be adepts of ancient magic written in dead languages, a distinct lack of frills of any kind. And while one might be tempted to draw comparison to fellow hooded members of the metal underground – Batushka, Portal, Mgła – the Ohio reprobates’ whole thing is more like a gnarly ‘70s bike gang flick than esoteric mysticism. Why bother wasting time fucking about with all that sort of thing when you can raise Hell by celebrating the glory of whisky, volume and shagging like Venom did when they birthed black metal? That’s probably more The Devil’s bag,&n...
