Of Wind And Weeping is MIRRORTHRONE at its most wounded and ornate—an early-era cathedral of sorrow where baroque keyboards coil around razor-thin tremolo riffs, building a world that feels both frostbitten and strangely regal. This album doesn’t brood; it bleeds. Every track swells with a tragic, theatrical weight, like watching a decaying empire crumble in slow motion. The vocals shift between anguished howls and ghost-like whispers, drifting through vast chambers of melancholy while the guitars carve out towering melodic structures that collapse just as quickly as they rise. It’s depressive, it’s majestic, and it’s unmistakably MIRRORTHRONE: a grand, grief-stricken monument to emotional ruin.
Where Gangrene sinks into rot and isolation, Of Wind And Weeping reaches upward—closer to the ornate misery of EMPEROR’s Anthems era, the romantic gloom of OLD MAN’S CHILD, and the sorrow-drenched theatricality of DARK LUNACY. There’s a neoclassical pulse reminiscent of SEAR BLISS without the cosmic lean, and a depressive undercurrent that brushes against XASTHUR but with far more grandeur and melodic ambition. If you crave black metal that feels like a tragic opera performed in a crumbling stone hall, MIRRORTHRONE’s debut stands alone—an emotionally charged, symphonic collapse unlike anything else in the genre.