Review by Dominik on August 29, 2025.

I am a culturally sensitive person. So, let me get two disclaimers out of the way before some cultural-political-correctness-radar starts beeping. First, the British are famous for spotting an accent after two words. I suspect that they apparently are also able to smell a band's country of origin after two riffs. If you're British and assumed Imperial Demonic must have crawled out of the frozen Swedish soil, I don't blame you. But no — they're from Northern Ireland, which is obviously slightly less frosty but apparently no less grim. Second, knowing that in certain parts of the UK, sarcasm seems to be the mother tongue, and a compliment may very well be an insult in disguise, I want to make clear the following: whenever I say something nice about this record, it isn't a hidden jab, or as the English would say "tea with a splash of vinegar". It's honest admiration.

Now, what are the eternal nitpickers going to moan about? Let me guess. There are three areas where the fault-finders and whiners will probably wag their fingers. One, "it sounds like Dark Funeral". Well yes, and a Ferrari looks suspiciously like a car too. I cannot negate that we find a certain similarity to the Swedes' older works. But now, a free pearl of wisdom: I'll take a well-executed homage over some tragic attempt at originality any day and a fine imitation beats a poor invention anyhow. What Imperial Demonic delivers is (youthful) enthusiasm wrapped around the bones of one of black metal's most influential schools. Two, "it's only five songs, people want more". I sympathize, I can relate. The EP feels too short precisely because it's so strong. It makes you wonder at what point the band doubted their own quality and stopped recording. But honestly, I'd rather be left hungry than stuffed with filler material. Finally, "most band members are active in projects which do not even play black metal", as the sceptics will have researched by now. True again. Three guys have a background in a death metal band, the bassist is even moonlighting in Alestorm (a band that can barely spell "black"). A peculiar combination of talent that by logic simply cannot work. Or can it?

Having done my duty reporting potential areas for improvement, let's rather move to the good stuff. The opener feels like a cautious toe in the water: the drummer warming up, guitars flexing their tremolo muscles, the vocalist testing how far his throat will stretch, and the bassist perhaps out fetching beer. But with "Ways Of The Secular Flesh" the dam bursts and the band shows its teeth. Wonderful Swedish-flavored melodies wrapped in Northern Irish spite, driven by merciless blasts, lead into the song, which pays homage to Dark Funeral or early Setherial. The song is catchy in a very black metal way, straightforward, gripping, and surprisingly easy to digest: no progressive twists and turns, but just enough subtle variation in speed and dynamic to keep you hooked throughout.

"The Path Of Night" and "Dawn Of The Infernal Age" continue with the same ferocity, with the former both being the longest and my personal highlight of the album. The formula isn't new, but the execution is razor-sharp: lighting fast drumming, the guitars weaving their net of infamous melodies while the frontman spits his venom in a controlled way. It's all familiar and even more enjoyable for it. The title track closes the album much like it began. It is not as striking as the three song mid-album storm, but good enough to leave you smirking at your speakers and pressing repeat.

What strikes me most on "Beneath The Crimson Eclipse" is the lack of pretension. No pompous soundscapes, no overthinking, no sterile overproduction or indulgent filler. Just five musicians, seemingly locked in a room, deciding to simply let it rip and agreeing to play as fast and as tightly as possible until the tape ran out. The result is twenty-six minutes of black metal that feels raw, manic, but never sloppy.

Rating: 8 ou of 10, because the album is not perfect. But it is strong enough to make you dig out your old Dark Funeral shirt, light a black candle and wonder if Northern Ireland is secretly colder than Sweden.