Ondfødt – Dimsvall: A Frozen Sermon for the Black-Hearted Faithful
Ondfødt
Dimsvall
Eisenwald, May 30, 2025
Welcome to Dimsvall, the fifth full-length slab of frostbitten fury from Finnish hellraisers Ondfødt This isn’t some misty-eyed exercise in atmospheric black metal or a wistful meditation on melancholy. No. This is a sonic blitzkrieg — a hateful, ice-veined bastard of an album that hits like a shovel to the sternum and keeps swinging. It doesn’t ask for your attention; it demands blood.
Dimsvall doesn’t build, so much as it erupts. The second the opening instrumental “Dimsvall” finishes crackling with its faux-peaceful campfire acoustics and ambient trickle of stream, the wolves are loosed. “Fodarvis Tid” storms in, teeth bared and eyes rolled back, a ferocious homage to second wave black metal—blastbeats pummelling like a thousand bootheels on frozen ground, tremolo riffs slicing through the din like black-ice shrapnel. It’s not music; it’s sustained warfare.
And it doesn’t let up. “Grymhejtins Ansikt” and “Bakom Blekna Skuggor” channel that same feral energy—spiteful, relentless, and stripped of pretense. “Grymhejtins Ansikt” even flirts with a punky pre-chorus, like Darkthrone on amphetamines, while a searing lead riff glows through the frost. “Bakom Blekna Skuggor” goes straight for the jugular, churning through its runtime with all the subtlety of a tank over bone.
Elsewhere, the band reaches into their thrash-stained guts. “Tuonela” lurches forward with a brick-thick wall of chugging riffs, stop-start tempo changes that snap necks, and a bridge that sounds like a demon prying open the gates of Hell. “Langton Efter Mörkri” ups the warcry with scything leads and a galloping, ironclad rhythm that could whip a thousand year-old corpse into a fist-pumping frenzy.
But just when you think the album might break apart under its own ferocity, Ondfødt throws in a few feints. “Futuria” slows to a menacing, mid-tempo crawl—seven minutes of gnashing dissonance punctuated by sudden melodic flashes, like brief glimpses of starlight through nuclear ash. “Svartsyn” offers another curveball: an opening of near-restraint that quickly fractures into chaos, only to spiral down into a smoky spoken-word section framed by chilling piano and synth textures. These moments aren’t breathers—they’re traps. And they snap shut quickly.
“Stormin,” the nine-minute closer, opens like a funeral procession and ends in an avalanche. It starts with dirge-like solemnity, a nod to Watain’s “They Rode On,” before the inevitable detonation. Blastbeats return, vocals shred through the mix like an exorcism caught on tape, and the album finally burns itself out with the same acoustic picking that opened the record. Full circle. No mercy.
Recorded at Wolfthrone Studios and helmed by vocalist/guitarist Owe Inborr—who also handled mixing and mastering—the album features Joel Notkonen (guitar), Jere Halonen (bass), and Tommi Tuhkala (drums), along with guest turns from Alexander Kuoppala (ex-Children of Bodom), Mathias “Vreth” Lillmåns (Finntroll, ...And Oceans), and Tom Cattermole (Pravitas). The production is crisp without sanding down the edges, allowing every blast, chug, and scream to hit with lethal clarity.
Dimsvall is not for the curious or the casual. This is not your entry-level tour of the genre. This is the record that sneers at your warmth, demands your devotion, and drags your soul out into the snow. For the black-hearted faithful who see extremity as a form of transcendence, Dimsvall offers communion—painful, punishing, and strangely purifying.
🔥 RATING: 8/10
💀 KEY TRACKS: “Fodarvis Tid,” “Tuonela,” “Futuria,” “Grymhejtins Ansikt,” “Stormin”
📻 FILE UNDER: Ice-scorched black metal, Thrash-fuelled warfare, Spiritual extremity, Second wave savagery