Cirith Ungol's 'King of the Dead' isn't polished, but it's pure, unadulterated doom metal, forged in the fires of early Sabbath and NWOBHM. It's a lumbering, epic beast, with a vocalist who sounds like he's narrating ancient myths while battling dragons. This is the sound of metal still finding its massive, theatrical stride, laying down the heavy, often melancholic, groundwork for generations of headbangers. Primitive, powerful, essential.
from “The 8 Records That Rewired My Skull (And Will Yours)” →
Cirith Ungol's '84 offering is a raw, untamed beast, a cornerstone of epic doom. The production, unpolished and visceral, only amplifies its primal power. Tim Baker's wailing vocals soar over crushing, analog-distorted riffs, sounding like the lament of ancient kings. This wasn't slick; it was pure, unadulterated heavy metal forged in the pre-digital crucible, a testament to raw intent and uncompromising sonic vision. Its cult status is entirely earned.
from “8 Unsung Sonic Architectures: The Pre-Digital Era's Overlooked Masterworks” →