Like most of his other projects, Aderlating is steeped in an intense haze of nightmarish delirium and depravity, a sound that seethes within most of the projects from Dutch nightmare sculptor Mories (Gnaw Their Tongues, De Magia Veterum, Cloak Of Altering, Mors Sonat, etc.). But with Aderlating, the duo that Mories is in alongside Eric Eijspaart from noise project Mowlawner, the musicians craft a more abstract vision of disturbing death-worship that is considerably less rooted in extreme metal and more in black, formless industrial music. Gospel Of The Burning Idols is a new full-length from the group that features seven tracks of this chaotic, stygian sound, undulating with smoldering black distortion and eerie chamber-strings, vague strains of orchestral sound glimmering beneath the echoing clank of monstrous mechanical rhythms and those putrid, inhuman vocals.

While there's some tenuous sonic connection to Mories's work with Gnaw Their Tongues in the use of mutated orchestral samples, this is pretty much an entirely different beast, a nightmarish concoction of experimental black ambience that is marked with a furious percussive element that is a signature part of Aderlating's sound. All throughout the album, the music is set upon by blasts of flailing free-form drumming that give parts of this a demented free-jazz feel, a kind of abstract black doom but with fragmented orchestral moans, blasts of hellish power electronics and waves of suffocating swarming static in place of metallic riffage. The musical elements are mostly obscured beneath the crumbling walls of distorted noise and rumbling distorted synth, and at times this album takes on an almost HNW-like feel as waves of dense black static crash endlessly across the far-off symphonic strings and smears of soundtracky electronic texture. On tracks like "A Vulture's Tongue Disease", shambolic drums lurch and stumble beneath the sounds of deformed liturgical chanting and murderous croaked vocals, angelic choirs bleeding across the black cauldron of the night sky, coming together into a surreal din of heavy improvisational drumming and pitch-black ambience. "The Burial Gown Reeks Of Semen" unleashes a clanking cacophony of far-off percussive sound into a dank dungeon thrumming with hateful demonic gibberish and buzzing synthesizer, and on "Dragged To The Smouldering Pits Of Infinity" the duo delve even deeper into a strange sort of abyssal free-jazz, those roiling formless drums tumbling chaotically through the haze of haunted drift and dreary monochrome drone as snarling distorted voices snap at their tails.

The rest of Gospel maintains that midnight, nightmarish vibe, wandering deliriously through clouds of ghostly whispering and strange incantations, the sound of tolling church bells swallowed up by churning nocturnal fog. The sound suddenly surges into another one of those frenetic percussive freak-outs, crashing, pounding drums surrounded by sinister utterances and murky ambient rumble, that percussive free-jazz feel coursing through these delirious black industrial driftscapes, finally closing with the hallucinatory electronic din of the title track, where squirming feedback becomes fused to doom-laden cellos creeping in slow-mo through the vast, sulfurous depths.

Comes in a four-panel gatefold digisleeve.