Valecnik's Top 15 of 2005

Well, this is it. This release isn’t called The Funeral Album just to acknowledge Sentenced’s longtime obsession with mortality. Its title is literal: it is the final album from the band; it is their death, their eulogy, their epitaph. Whatever you want to call it, these Finns have called it quits. Moreover, they knew when writing this album that it was the end which makes these tracks all the more poignant. Since Ville Laihiala joined the band in 1996 they’ve been steadily growing as a cohesive unit. Crimson is where they really started to hit the mark, and The Cold White Light continued in fine form. This final work of darkness and despair lives up to those albums, and arguably exceeds them. The ripping rock opener “May Today Become the Day,” with its wailing guitar melodies, makes it clear that the band isn’t messing around. “Her Last 5 Minutes” sets a new level of gloom in this gut-wrenching song about watching your beloved die slowly from a terminal illness. Just as you’re getting out the trusty razor blade, “Where Waters Fall Frozen” turns you on your head with a 53-second blast of searing melodic death metal. Yeah, Sentenced can still deliver the goods, giving a big fat “fuck you” to everyone that stopped paying attention after North From Here. A trend on the previous two Sentenced discs seemed to be to have a “hit” song that could almost be deemed radio-friendly if it weren’t about killing yourself or abject misery. This time around that song is the blistering “Vengeance is Mine,” a catchy-as-hell tale of fury and reckoning. In a different universe it would be a Top 40 hit. The last section of tracks on the album is slightly weaker, until you get to the bittersweet and aptly-titled “End of the Road.” Starting with slow grinding guitars it’s almost doomy, then at the halfway mark the melody line kicks in and calls to mind the very best of Iron Maiden before it leads the song to conclusion and slowly fades away. It’s a fitting finale for a band that covered Maiden’s “The Trooper” in their early years, and who wouldn’t have sounded the way they did without Iron Maiden’s influence. And there you have it: the last strains of a band that never compromised their own musical vision, and who were at the forefront of what has become a burgeoning groove rock scene. May they rest in peace.

On this, their fifth full-length album, November’s Doom don’t take any broad strides toward breaking their own mold. They do, however, crunch out some devastating doom metal. Paul Kuhr’s amazingly intelligible bellows and growls still crown this powerhouse quintet’s roaring style, but things seem to rock out a little more this time. Reference “Dark World Burden” for a groove-laden tempo you don’t often hear in the doom genre. The result encourages some serious headbanging. Not to be outdone, subsequent track “In the Absence of Grace” features some wicked stop/start percussion and another quick-tempo ass kicking. “The Dead Leaf Echo” slows things down to a more typical speed for the band but is possibly the album’s finest track, full and rich and thoroughly crushing. ND must be moving up in the world because this album was mixed by none other than Dan Swanö in his native Sweden. Swanö also plays a solo on the aforementioned “Dark World Burden.” The only shortcoming of this effort is that at times the lyrics seem awkward and out of character for the band. There’s something about thanking heaven for an angel and a few strange lines about a failed romantic relationship that just don’t quite work. However, I can certainly forgive those minor transgressions when faced with the big picture: another great release from one of the finest bands in the genre. Doom on, boys.

What a relief!  Nevermore’s latest effort is leagues better than their last, the dull Enemies of Reality.  That album wasn’t bad, per se, it was just utterly uninspiring coming from a band that has recorded some of the most impressive albums of the last decade.  This Godless Endeavor, while it still does not rival the magnificent Dead Heart in a Dead World, goes a long way toward getting back on track.  For one thing, the band had the sense to bring Andy Sneap back in as producer.  Though I’ve possibly heard better from Sneap, he always succeeds in making the final result sound crisp, punchy and HEAVY.  That being said, this disc takes a while to get up to speed.  Early track “My Acid Words” rocks impressively enough, but its Gothenburg melody is about ten years behind the times.  Not until the middle of the record do things pick up in a big way with ”Sentient 6,” a quietly smoldering track that explodes into a massively earth-shaking chorus then drops back again.  The band appear to have rediscovered that dynamics often make successful songs.  “Medicated Nation” follows with artillery percussion and Warrel Dane’s one-of-a-kind voice sounding particularly vicious on the chorus.  On previous releases I was often drawn to Van Williams’ considerable drumming skills, and while he performs solidly once again, it’s the guitar work of Jeff Loomis and Steve Smyth that piqued my attention this time.  Their solos on these songs positively leap out of the speakers with precision and class.  As if saving the best for last, the one-two punch of “A Future Uncertain” and the title track will succeed in restoring your faith in this band; the former’s battering ram intensity and the latter’s furious rhythmic shifts and guitar virtuosity are guaranteed to inspire awe.  We even get a spine-tingling Sanctuary-era cry from Dane as a denouement to the album.  If you’re a fan of heavy music, there’s little here that won’t satisfy.  This Godless Endeavor is a true metal album designed for true metal fans.

DOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!  Oh yes, the Rev. is back and better than ever.  This trio may well be the forerunner of true doom metal right now.  They’ve always been soul-crushingly heavy, but this disc finds them adding more groove to the mix and that is a very, very good thing.  Past releases had the ol’ sludge ‘n’ trudge effect down pat, with some faster parts mixed in here or there, but on Crush the Insects the majority of tracks lock in and rock out, even if they don’t always start that way.  Opener “Doom Over the World” even contains a harmoniously fuzzy melody line that almost sounds like fellow Scandinavians and stoner rockers Astroqueen.  The two exceptions are the tortoise-paced (and somewhat dull) “Slave of Satan” and the excellently epic “Eternal Forest.”  Although the latter never changes its plodding tempo, the evil central riff is so delicious I don’t mind listening to it for nearly 11 minutes.  The rousing “Cromwell” is the shortest track at a relatively miniscule 5:25, but it rocks hardest with its infectious swagger.  This devastating doomfest ends with a song that originally lost me because of its sheer goofiness.  No, “Fucking Wizard” is not a condemnation of a mage; it’s about a master of the carnal arts.  The track contains some ludicrous lyrics which I won’t spoil by giving them away here (you’ll have to buy the album).  In spite of the lyrics, or because of them, this song is irresistible.  Musically it’s a tip of the hat to Black Sabbath’s “Black Sabbath,” with a slow, brooding beginning and a fiery end.  If you’re a doom fan and you’re not listening to this Reverend, you’re at the wrong church.  Find your salvation.

Ah, it’s been too long.  Four years ago Epoch of Unlight released Caught in the Unlight!, a seething monster of an album that I just couldn’t stop spinning.  It claimed my #2 spot for that year, and I seriously considered giving it #1.  Thus it was with some apprehension that I approached The Continuum Hypothesis.  You can never be sure whether a band will live up to their own work.  Thankfully EOL do.  This disc isn’t better than its predecessor, but it’s almost as good.  It offers up 11 tracks of vicious melodic blackened death that summon the glory days of the Gothenburg style.  Sections of songs fly at a frenetic pace, then abruptly stop and flawlessly resume.  In other words, this shit is tight.  Let’s face it: the only place this style really lives on these days is in ripped-off riffs incorporated by lame metalcore acts (a phenomenon that I still don’t understand).  Truly talented melodic death bands are rare anymore.  The genre pioneers like Dark Tranquillity and In Flames have long since moved on and their clones don’t do justice to the classic sound birthed more than a decade ago.  Epoch of Unlight are proudly carrying the torch, though it’s less a torch than a flamethrower, incinerating everything in its path.  Posers beware.

Out of the frozen majesty of Finland come Moonsorrow with their fifth, and most ambitious, album.  Five tracks—four of them 14 minutes or more in length—comprise this 70-minute opus.  Though the first track starts with a solid vibe and some cool mouth harp, it loses itself in blasting black metal for several minutes and left me wondering what happened to the Moonsorrow of old.  Don’t let it put you off, though, because the rewards that follow will make you forget about it in a hurry, and later embrace it in retrospect.  Subsequent songs “Haaska” and “Pimeä” are wondrous pagan epics, replete with enchanting guitar melodies, folk instrumentation and choral ensemble chanting.  After a three-minute acoustic intro, “Jotunheim” rips into the same rousing glory.  Finishing things out, “Kaiku” is a stirring folk song with no metal instrumentation whatsoever, but it conjures the same heathen pride as the other tracks.  A nice touch to this album is the constant backdrop of nature sounds in and between the songs.  It’s just a simple track of birds chirping, hawks crying, and trees rustling, but it further reinforces the grand pagan ambience in which Moonsorrow specialize.  Crank this up, grab your ale, and head into the woods to commune with Mother Earth.  Moonsorrow succeed in linking this world with the one of the past and bringing the ancient gods back to us.  Hail, hail, forevermore.

Primordial are a sure thing.  For years now they have been churning out music of the most epic kind, music infused with the ancient legacy of their Irish homeland.  No one, absolutely no one, sounds like them and that is no surprise as their art is nothing short of magical.  The Gathering Wilderness finds the band in grim spirits (not that they were exactly chipper before); the introduction in the liner notes speaks to today’s turbulent times and a (prophetic?) belief that everything is coming to a head, that “the Wilderness is Gathering all its children in for one last desperate struggle.”  I have become a big fan of traditional Celtic music in recent years, and although there’s nothing overtly Celtic about this disc (as compared to the occasional track on previous efforts where they paid homage to traditional styles), all the same this material positively reeks of Ireland, of its bloody and tragic past.  Having traveled there in 2004 it’s difficult to explain what I really mean, but let me assure you this band are 100% rooted in their lineage.  It seeps from them like the blood of their ancestors seeps from the ground in grief and vengeance.  I suppose the day may come when Primordial release a sub-par album, but it’s difficult to imagine that.  They are blessed by pagan gods; they are true champions of the Heathen Crusade.

Not only are Enslaved one of the most reliable bands in metal, they’re also pretty prolific; they release an album almost every year.  2003 brought the breathtaking Below the Lights, and a little more than a year later Isa was released.  Problem was, it was released only in Europe in late 2004, and then immediately dropped off the face of the earth.  You couldn’t get the damn thing anywhere.  Early 2005 saw its release in the U.S. via Candlelight’s domestic branch, so we’ll consider it an ’05 release.  If we didn’t I couldn’t include it in this list and, like most Enslaved albums, it belongs here.  Back in 2000 with the Mardraum album this band’s material started getting especially interesting.  Their classic Viking Metal was always great but suddenly they started treading some very experimental and progressive avenues.  The result was impressive; the band matured while their contemporaries were rehashing the same boring black metal.  Below the Lights actually backed away from the prog touches a bit, and it was still a masterpiece, but with Isa the progressive elements return.  After the somewhat standard (but excellent) “Lunar Force” and the title track, “Ascension” is the first song on the album that makes it clear that Enslaved have wandered back into unorthodox territory.  The guitar notes are played in an unusual arrangement that is both weirdly creepy and powerfully majestic.  “Bounded by Allegiance” (“Bounded?”  You’d think their English would be better after all these years) follows and serves up striking riffs, cool background synths, and great melody lines.  “Neogenesis” may well be the crown jewel of the whole affair; its furious picking makes it most like material from Below the Lights, yet its slower sections are some of the most progressive found on the album.  No matter how you dissect it, it’s spectacular; one of the best songs the band has ever crafted.  Enslaved are true metal visionaries.  We can’t be sure where they’ll take us next, but it’s guaranteed to be a worthwhile journey.

In 1989 Godflesh released Streetcleaner, an album that would become legendary.  Juggernaut industrial rhythms joined with guttural vocals to form a crushing black pestilence.  Although several more albums followed, most of them very good, none could achieve the same level of genius.  Fast forward 16 years: Godflesh have disbanded and Godflesh mainman Justin K. Broadrick can be found in his new project, Jesu.  With this, their first full-length album, Mr. Broadrick & co. have succeeded in creating a record to rival the mighty Streetcleaner.  Before you go assuming that this material is therefore punishing mechanical grindcore, let me clarify that the comparison is not as simple as that.  Yes, the guitars at the beginning of “Friends are Evil” are so sickeningly distorted that they sound like they’re gurgling up through the toxic sludge of some machine hell.  Yes, the shuddering “Man/Woman” could easily be mistaken for early Godflesh, with skullcrushing vocals to match.  Every other track, however, features clean vocals.  The similarity, then, lies not in pure sound but in overall ambience.  Streetcleaner was entrancing, evil and perverse though that trance was.  Likewise, Jesu is utterly hypnotic.  Listen to the rolling harmony in the outro of “Sun Day” and try to resist being mesmerized; it’s almost impossible.  On the stunning back-to-back duo “Tired of Me” and “We All Faulter” it is Broadrick’s monotone vocal that subdues and caresses while guitar lines radiate and stretch out into infinite space.  Simply put, Jesu is Godflesh modernized and retooled, pushing into new cosmic quadrants of emotion and consciousness.  The frontier awaits you.

With Isis, Neurosis and Cult of Luna all releasing albums in ‘04, what was an atmospheric noise metal fan supposed to do in 2005?  Well you just needed to find a gem like this one, which I did by total accident.  Callisto hail from Finland, proving once again that Scandinavians can find their way into most any musical style and do a damn fine job with it.  From the first chords of “Blackhole” you’ll enter total Isis paradise, surrounded by familiar harmony and squelching guitar reverb.  One and a half minutes into the same track you’ll hear trademark Neurosis percussion.  “Storm” reminds of Isis’ Oceanic period, with a spellbinding buildup/unraveling over the course of nine minutes.  The singing style is definitely on the scathing side, mixed with occasional lilting female accompaniment.  Every track here is excellent, but by album’s end things reach a furious boil with the atonal attack and grinding assault of “Masonic” and the brilliant “The Great Divorce.”  This final song combines a haunting guitar line with crushing riffs and punishing staccato rhythms, making for a masterful finale.  Although Callisto are essentially just following in the footsteps of the genre masters, they make up for it with rock solid execution.  Credit must be given to any band that can play this style and play it well.  There aren’t many such artists out there and I’m thrilled when I find one proudly carrying this flag through the musical battlefield.

Low are a band I’d been aware of for a few years, but had never taken the time to explore.  Shame on me.  From the unlikely location of Duluth, MN, this trio summons forth the spirit of true musical inspiration.  The brooding “Monkey” kicks things off with a synthesized bass backbone that is so massive it sets your whole world to buzzing.  “California” then turns the tables with a folksy strum.  It feels uplifting after its predecessor, and seems even more so when followed by the cold angular chops of “Everybody’s Song.”  As good as these first three songs are, Low are at their undeniable best when they delve deep into a morose number like “Silver Rider.”  It features a chorus that is no more than a string of “la la las,” which you might think sounds terribly simplistic but it actually works splendidly.  Alan Sparhawk’s and Mimi Parker’s vocal harmonies are truly magical in this tune, forming an ethereal sonic wonder that gives me chills.  Similarly, “On the Edge Of” comes in swinging with dusty country guitar, then goes almost a cappella in another quietly awe-inspiring chorus.  Low are not only brilliant musicians; they also have a way with words.  “When I Go Deaf” is both touching and humorous (not to mention that it will knock you on your ass with its sudden blast of delightfully wrought distortion).  “Death of a Salesman” is a heartbreaking but tongue-in-cheek dose of reality for the artists of the world.  Whatever your take on the lyrics, there is real poetry here, a glorious complement to the musical prose.  Low are simply magnificent, and should be sought out by anyone still in the dark about this band.  Find your way to their light, for it will illuminate something you’ve never quite seen or heard before.

"Look at you all clutching your guitars
As if it makes a difference to who you really are
Does the picking of a string stop the ticking of the clock?
When will this curtain fall?"

These lines are my favorite from Antimatter’s latest milestone of melancholy.  They reflect perfectly the kind of forlorn introspection you’ll find within.  But forget the electronica of their debut, and the Anathema-like shimmer of their sophomore release.  Here they lay their brilliance bare in pure acoustic form.  Yes, on every song.  When I heard the album would be totally acoustic I was wary.  The various textures of Lights Out had been so engrossing that I was loathe to leave them behind.  Upon spinning Planetary Confinement the first couple times I thought: is this it?  Is this all you got?  Some quiet strumming?  Then I spun it again and started to realize that’s all you need.  It is, in fact, possibly the ideal forum for what this band are all about: acute misery.  The fragile beauty of these songs is inescapable; once it grabs you it will not let go.  Among these sorrowful poems is also a surprise: a cover of Trouble’s “Mr. White.”  That might seem like an odd choice, and it is, but it turns out quite well: infused with the Antimatter vibe but clearly recognizable.  This disc was recorded in two completely separate sessions, one by Mick Moss and one by Duncan Patterson, but you wouldn’t really know it; it is fluid and seamless.  Patterson does not do any singing this time around, leaving that duty to Moss and newcomer Amelié Festa.  Both are wonderful; Moss’ voice is rich and heartbreaking while Festa’s is airy and ethereal, lending itself well to the material.  Planetary Confinement may be the quietest release of the year, but its emotional power is deafening.

What do you get when you cross members of Isis with Neurosis?  Perhaps not what you’d think.  Red Sparowes showcase the fruit of just such a combination and the result is mindwarping atmospheric rock with all of the epic but none of the bombast.  Sort of like Isis at their most cosmic possessing The Cure during a trance-inducing jam session.  The album isn’t heavy in the traditional sense, but its haunting tones and mesmerizing melodies will weigh on you like lead.  This material is purely instrumental, and somehow it seems better that way.  Vocals might intrude on these magnificent soundscapes of woe.  The theme here is urbanization and industry, and how the advent of them brings darkness and eventual extinction.  The seven song titles are sentences forming one paragraph that tell the tale poetically, succinctly, and with bitter lament.  And yet there is a strange hope echoed occasionally in the second half of the album, in defiance of the apocalyptic titles.  Perhaps we must take from this journey that all is not lost, that someday the dark mechanical oppression will be overcome.  Like most great art, it is open to interpretation.  Take from it what you will; what matters is the experience, and the experience is staggering.

That title long enough for ya?  Coheed and Cambria grow ever more indulgent and grandiose with their naming convention, but that’s okay because the music supports it.  My first introduction to this new material was through the song “The Suffering,” which was being played on a local rock radio station here.  At the time the track sounded okay, but awfully derivative of the previous album.  I am an enormous fan of that album, In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3, but I sure as hell didn’t just want a rehash of it.  Thus I was concerned, and even upon the first three or four listens of Good Apollo… I was unimpressed.  Fearing that I had found yet another letdown for the year, the tide suddenly turned and C&C grabbed hold and pulled me helplessly into their abyss.  I can’t explain it, really, but I started loving this album and then became absolutely fanatical over it.  It’s just a charm this band has over me, I guess, but I am quite happy to say that charm still exists and hasn’t been vanquished by their new major label status.  One of my favorite aspects of Coheed has always been their inherent paradox.  Vocalist Claudio Sanchez has a childlike, high-pitched Geddy Lee style; it’s a love-him-or-hate-him characteristic.  But hearing this innocent-sounding voice proclaim hymns of murder and perversion is a little shocking.  Add to that the creepy, brutal and amazing album artwork which is more intense than that found in most death metal albums and you have that paradox.  C&C are a unique beast, to be sure.  On the surface many of these songs could be considered emo-core or even pop-punk, but such classifications belie the epic and deadly serious essence beneath.  Coheed and Cambria are akin to a band like Tool: your average “trend du jour” music listener seems to find appeal in them, but is utterly oblivious to what’s really going on.  Maybe that just makes it more enjoyable for those of us able to dive in and find the rest of the iceberg.

I love Opeth dearly, but they’re usually more of a #2 band for me.  Their songwriting talent is undeniable and their execution remarkable, but I usually find another album that thrills me in a more visceral way.  However, this year I never ran across an album that impressed me more than Ghost Reveries.  It’s essentially the same Opeth we’ve come to adore, but with an ever-growing progressive influence.  In fact the band gained a new member in Per Wiberg, whose sole responsibility is keyboards.  He is put to good use, churning out some ‘70s boogie at times and layering on subtle atmosphere at others.  Mikael Akerfeldt’s voice, as always, is just incredibly smooth and rich when he sings cleanly, which is about 70-80% of the time.  One element that is noticeably absent this time is Porcupine Tree’s Steven Wilson; that’s a little disappointing, but I think he has left his mark on the band from previous collaborations.  I still hear nods to the ‘Tree here and there.  Although this release is stellar throughout its entirety, I find I am especially affected by the second half.  “Reverie/Harlequin Forest” heralds this section of the album with poignant lyrics and some initial brutality, and then takes a very Morningrise-ish turn at the 3 ½-minute mark.  It’s so much like that sophomore album, in fact, that I think you could drop it among songs like “Advent” and “The Night and the Silent Water” and never know the difference.  That is, except for some prog keyboards layered over the top, a richer production, and the fact that the song does return to a more modern Opeth sound in its final minutes.  “Hours of Wealth” follows and revisits Damnation with its heart-stirring acoustics and achingly soulful lyrics.  I think it’s also a track where the aforementioned Steven Wilson influence is evident.  It even throws in a downright bluesy guitar solo, making clear Opeth’s intent to always change and grow.  Then it’s time to shake off the melancholy and raise a horned salute to the ass-kicking rocker “The Grand Conjuration.”  Sharply punctuated rhythms and a rollicking tempo toss you around like a ship in a monsoon.  “Isolation Years” returns us to quiet pondering, acoustically closing out the album in less than four minutes, a miniscule amount of time in the Opeth realm.  But it works and serves well as a lovely finale.  Opeth have found their way to Roadrunner Records for this release, certainly one of the major and more commercial metal labels out there.  Will that lead them to greater success than ever before?  More power to them if it does, as long as they keep making albums this good.