LANGSUIR: Malay Occult Black Metal At Its Most Fearsome & Folkloric

By Lara Kramer  •  in Features
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Langsuir isn’t your run-of-the-mill kvlt band.

They’re not some corpsepainted Instagram gimmick or a rehashed Scandinavian cosplay. They’re a feral, deep-rooted, screeching beast from the humid heart of Ipoh, Perak. Since 1991, they’ve been mangling black and death metal into something that actually means something here.

Something homegrown. Something unholy, yes, but also deeply ours.

You ever hear a band summon the sound of a pontianak circling your rumah kampung roof? That’s Langsuir.

Let’s clear the fog.

Langsuir wasn’t the first name. There were messy false starts like Eternal Death, Curse Monger, and hilariously, Gin. But Bentara, founding member and full-time riff necromancer, had a bigger idea. He didn’t want a band that sounded like it came from Florida or Finland. He wanted to build a metal language in Malay, out of myth, mysticism, and pure marrow.

Toyol? Too funny. Jembalang? Borderline cartoon. Langsuir? Now that hits. It’s female, fearsome, and folkloric. And it stuck.

Occultus Mysticism (1993) was more of a sonic revelation than a mere demo. Three tracks written entirely by Bentara while he was still at MRSM Muar. These were raw, reverent, and ripped straight from the grave:

  1. ‘Occultus Mysticism’
  2. ‘The Seventh One’
  3. ‘In the Name of Sil Khannas’

These were blast beats and buzzsaw riffs made to sound like borderline scripture. Like Morbid Angel took acid in Batu Gajah and picked up a bass guitar.

Their breakout EP, released under Nebiula Productions, is a four-track throat punch. From the title alone, you know it’s not interested in playing nice with Western tropes. Tracklist below:

  1. ‘My Oath For Thee’
  2. ‘The Seven-Headed Dragon of Pelangi’
  3. ‘Bastardized Rejaman Sihir/Pontianak’
  4. ‘Tangisan Embun Pagi’

Dragon? Blood? Grief? Check. All screamed in reverence. It’s not performative. It’s ritual; a masterpiece of mythological chaos.

Langsuir’s timeline is messy, like all great cult acts. Here’s what they’ve offered the underworld so far:

  • Occultus Mysticism (Demo, 1993): A true OG relic. Pure necro Malay metal.
  • Black Widow (Demo, 1994): Not widely reviewed but essential for collectors. Grittier. Meaner.
  • Storm of Nebiula (Split, 1996): Collaboration chaos. Early scene-defining collab.
  • The Eastern Cruelty (EP, 1996): See above. This is canon.
  • Promotape 1998 (Demo, 1998): Raw and unfiltered. Shows the band teetering toward evolution.
  • Ipoh’s Metal Militant Supremacist (Split, 1998): Yes, that’s the real name. Pure Ipoh scene pride.
  • Riusgnal (Compilation, 1999): Retrospective gold.
  • Asyik (Full-length, 2005): Their most accessible and arguably underrated work. Fluid, sharp, and eerie.
  • Live at Planet Hollywood (Video, 2006): Proof that Malaysian metalheads never needed pyro or props to crush.
  • Bantaigram (EP, 2016): A lean return to form.
  • Cemar (EP, 2019): Cleaner production, same venom.
  • Dirgha Belasungkawa (Full-length, 2019): Bleak and majestic. Feels like a funeral in space.
  • Reh 2023 (Demo, 2023): Grainy rehearsal tapes that prove the beast still has claws.
  • Gurindam Jampi Pendinding (Single, 2024): Hypnotic, chant-like. Feels cursed.
  • Engkar (EP, 2024): Their most recent. Sounds like a summoning ritual gone wrong. In a good way.

The bullet that never fired

Sometime in 2008, a full album titled Bullet was recorded but never released. Produced by Clockwork Records, it had eight unreleased tracks with session players including Bakri from Gerhana Ska Cinta. Yes, ska and black metal had a brief rendezvous.

Why wasn’t it released? Technical chaos. Lost in the void. But it’s out there. Somewhere…

Black metal. But Malay. But also Muslim.

Yeah. Let’s talk about it. The band’s earlier work leans into occult themes, but its members are openly Muslim. Bentara literally goes by Metal Muslim online.

And you know what? It’s not contradictory. Langsuir doesn’t deal in mock-satanism. They summon spirits, not spit on beliefs. This is folklore-as-catharsis. This is rage processed through ritual.

Langsuir are still here. Still active. Still snarling. Not just as nostalgia bait, but because they never sold out, never sanitised, never stopped sounding like they came out of a burning kampung after midnight.

So don’t call them underground legends like they’re dead. They’re alive. Maybe more than ever. And if you’re not listening, you’re missing out on the only Malaysian band that can make you headbang and think about ancient sorcery in the same breath.

Support them. Fear them. Learn the words to Tangisan Embun Pagi.

Just don’t summon anything you can’t send back.

More cool sh*t on JUICE.

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