#11 - System Of Hate – There Is No Madness Here

 

This has been on my hard-drive since its 2018 release and was regularly played on my show at the time. It was only last month that I realised I didn't actually have the physical copy. So, taking advantage of a Louder Than War sale, I parted with £3 (YES! £3!) and now own it.

'There Is No Madness Here' is a deliberately austere, confrontational record, one that commits fully to a cold, stripped-back goth sound and an explicitly anti-God stance. The music is built on bleak repetition: downcast guitar figures, rigid rhythms, and an atmosphere that favours oppression over release. It’s goth not as romance or decadence, but as severity and ritual, locking the listener into a narrow emotional corridor and refusing to offer relief.

Lyrically, the album’s hostility toward religion is neither symbolic nor playful. Its anti-God position is stated plainly and pursued with unwavering conviction, less an attempt to shock than a declaration of belief. That certainty gives the album coherence and purpose. Tracks often blur together, reinforcing the suffocating mood and compelling you to continue your hobby of sacrificing small children.

The vinyl release on Louder Than War Records suits the ethos well, though it comes with one baffling flaw: there is nothing whatsoever to indicate which side is A or B. No label cue, no run-out etching, no subtle hint—just trial, error, and mild existential irritation. It’s a small detail, but one that feels oddly careless on an otherwise deliberate release (I got it right first time btw).

Visually, the sleeve is far more assured. Its simplistic darkness mirrors the music perfectly: unadorned, oppressive, and confident enough not to explain itself. It’s the kind of artwork that doesn’t try to seduce you - it simply sits there, waiting.

And while the record itself projects severity, it’s worth noting one of the human hands behind it. Pat Crawford, despite his satanistic goat-burning sensibilities, is by all accounts a genuinely decent and approachable presence - an irony that only deepens the album’s tension between ideology and personality.

In the end, 'There Is No Madness Here' is best understood as a committed, niche statement. It doesn’t seek to persuade or entertain so much as to assert. Within its self-imposed limits, it succeeds; outside them, it remains impenetrable by design.