Abadir — Antikosmos Review
Abadir, an Italian Black Metal entity forged in 2024, emerged from the underground with their debut full-length offering, “Antikosmos,” released on July 30th, 2025 via Unholy Dungeon Tapes.
The First Three Sins, The Summary
The Fourth Sin, Overall Discussion
Opening the Void: Thymos Ignites the Descent
The instant you press play on Antikosmos, the opening hymn Thymos sparks a wild inner fire—setting the descent in motion. Its raw, fierce sound pulls you straight down into a deep void, setting the stage for the wild ride ahead. As you push through the next nine songs, you dive deeper into shadows. Antikosmos turns out to be far more than a simple album. It acts as a true ritual builder. It draws deeply from Greek myths, cosmic defiance, and a hollow pagan atmosphere.
Every part of it stays pure, with no cuts or changes. It feels deeply tied to one person’s soul.
Tomb-Born Sound: Rawness as Ritual
The music’s raw edge is a deliberate choice. It nods to the rough black metal roots from early Greece. Bands like Necromantia and Rotting Christ come to mind. Yet, it twists through a private set of myths. No slick studio tricks. No outside hands meddle. The whole work sounds as though it were captured in a dark tomb. Each note feels like a sacred gift laid down in rite.
The air hangs grainy and vast. It echoes with old respect, closeness, and a touch of death magic. Picture a sound pulled fresh from an ancient grave. It hums with secrets long buried.
Hymns of Collapse: Karonte to Nekya
Hymns like Karonte—a short burst at just two minutes—begin with sharp attacks, then they shift to soft guitar strums. Strong, pulse-like beats join in. Vocals carry pain and grief. The switch from fury to calm flows as smoothly as silk. No stumble. Phobos and Megera hit hard. They swirl like stars collapsing, tearing into body and mind.
The opening hymn, Thymos sparks a wild inner fire, raw and alive. Phobos calls up fear as a core power. Nyx brings the black night to life. Nekya ends it all with death rites, whispers from below ground.
Devilmanship in Strings: Askios’ Sonic Craft
Antikosmos is a dark, forty-minute journey that provides the listener with a devilmanship in composition and instrumental score — executed with perfection. The guitars and bass, forged and consecrated by Askios, emerge in raw tremolo fire, dissonant layering, and atmospheric distortion—each passage steeped in cavernous reverb and ceremonial intent. Chaotic riffs clash with melodic decay, summoned with surgical precision. Frostbitten high notes pierce the void like spectral blades, while subterranean rhythms rumble with cave-born resonance. Nothing here is accidental; every tone is a ritual incision.
Dissonance strikes purposefully in places. In Phobos and Megera, guitars twist like snakes. They coil tightly around sung spells in Greek tones. The Bass lines add a heavy fear from below. It grounds the album’s deeper reflections. The sound punches in the middle range. Lows stay firm. This fits black metal’s stacked layers just right. The whole feel blends old times with now. It calls up vast fear through twelve strings and twisted noise.
Those riffs light the fire of the rite. They shine on myth themes with sharp melody.
Percussive Rites: The Beat Altar Beneath
Antikosmos‘ drums are also, forged and consecrated by Askios, transmute hollow pagan echoes into storm-forged rhythms. Each blast beat surges with intent; each tom strike lands like a ritual invocation—deep, driven, and echo-bound. The snare snap remains taut, a ceremonial lash that suits black metal’s wild alchemy. These percussive rites don’t rush—they expand with frostbitten care, letting the chill move between the fury. What emerges is a drum-world: glacial, vast, and steeped in ritual.
It’s not just rhythm—it’s a beat altar, built beneath Antikosmos’ incantatory chants.
Antikosmos‘ vocals come from a mystery man, just Δ. He stands as a sign, not a face. His voice channels pagan rage and soul-depth. He skips sad or empty clichés. Instead, it feels like a call to old ways and clear spirit. Δ sings raw and on point. Emotion floods every word. His vice slice through the thick air with shrieked invocations and buried chants echo through the mix like forgotten rites—less performance, more possession.
That homemade feel boosts the truth in his cries. Tracks like Thymos make it clear. They touch on lost honour and true respect for nature. Δ doesn’t just yell. His voice links with the unseen.
Chaos as Pure Fruit of Art
In the end, Abadir’s and their album Antikosmos stands as pure fruit of art. It proclaims old-school black metal from the first note. Raw power grips the listener and refuses release—its sound scorched and unrelenting, lingering long after the final note fades into ritual silence.
Closing: One final breath. The rite is complete.
As the album descends into its final moments, the ritual nears completion. We extend our deepest gratitude to Abadir for allowing us to witness and review their debut offering, Antikosmos—a sonic fracture carved in pagan fire and mythic defiance.
The Fifth Sin, The Memorabilia
The Sixth Sin, The Artwork
The Seventh Sin, Disrelish
Abadir
Askios — Guitars, drums, bass
Δ — Vocals, mix & master, & Cover art illustrations
Hear The Music
Reviewed by Kristian — editorial architect and ceremonial crafted. © Athenaeum of Sin Reviews.