It’s rare to hear a demo so violently raw that it still manages to pull you in instead of pushing you away. Brùid play a savage, grinding mix of blackened death metal coated in a thick layer of lo-fi filth – the kind of production that feels like it’s trying to hide the riffs from you. It doesn’t. What it does is make the two short releases, the Cogadh demo and the Linn an Umha EP, feel like genuine underground rituals: ugly, hostile, and completely uncompromising. Most people will tap out after thirty seconds. The rest of us keep coming back, because underneath the haze and the blown-out distortion there’s something ferocious and strangely addictive.
Cogadh (2016)
Cogadh isn’t just raw; it’s weaponized filth. The production is a blown-out, suffocating mess, but that’s the entire point. This isn’t lazy lo-fi or “necro” as a gimmick; the haze and distortion are the atmosphere, the attack, the identity. And somehow, through all the chaos, the riffs still cut straight to the bone.
Early Black Witchery worship immediately springs to mind, but Brùid push it even further into bestial/blackened death territory. “Macha” is the standout offender: five unrelenting minutes of pure sonic violence that somehow gets better every time you subject yourself to it. Cogadh doesn’t just embrace the underground aesthetic; it drags you into the bloody battlefield and sacrifices you to dead gods. It’s a memoriam and love letter to a simpler time in black metal, where brutality was its true calling with the aesthetic to boot.
Linn An Umha (2024)
After Cogadh comes the second release, the Linn an Umha EP. It keeps the same iconic raw grinding sound but cleans it up just enough, pushing aside some of the filth to lean harder into the grind itself. The vocals feel more grounded yet still carry that supernatural, bestial atmosphere. The instruments, however, are far more chaotic—controlled chaos, dizzying and punishing. The riffs and drums lock together to create a hypnotic, almost disorienting effect that feels genuinely unique.
It’s not all relentless brutality and noise walls, though. Right in the middle sits a short ambient dungeonsynth interlude—a brief resting spot for the listener and a haunting callback to the bagpipe-like tones of Cogadh.
Of the five tracks on Linn an Umha, the fourth stands out. Its jarring opening rips you straight out of the synth break and hurls you into a brutal, swinging mosh. It lands somewhere between a hardcore breakdown and viciously filthy black metal, with whining, bending guitars that serve as a savage reminder of Brùid’s power.
Brùid has left its mark on me in a big way. I’ve been spinning Cogadh and Linn an Umha back-to-back nonstop since I discovered them. That sound is drilled into my brain and feels completely addicting. It’s an obsession I never want to shake, and I really hope this band doesn’t just fade back into the void. Something this vicious needs to rise from the ashes again and hit us with more of that ancient, chaotic power.