Valecnik's Top 15 of 2016
Des Moines' Druids had already established themselves as one of the city's best bands with a couple of solid stoner rock releases in the last seven years. But with Cycles of Mobeum, they have most assuredly taken their skills to the next level, and are poised to contend on a national stage.
Somewhat to my chagrin, they've lost much of the stoner fuzz in their sound, yet their songwriting and playing abilities make up for that. From opening instrumental "The Grand Sleeve of Time," the tone is set for this affair to be more musical and blues-based. The track is languid, soulful, and well-executed. From that point on, the clear and obvious reference point is Mastodon. I say that with some reticence, as Mastodon put out three great albums in the early to mid 2000s, and since then have been atrocious. Thankfully, Druids takes their influence from those early classic records. Second track "Capturing the Firemares" is an unabashedly Mastodon-styled song title, nearly to the point of self-parody, but it delivers plenty of punchy, thudding riffs and skillful melodies to boot. "Dreams of a Surface" is similar, but even thicker and heavier, with a fiery and impassioned guitar solo.
After another instrumental, the ambient/acoustic "Trial by Stone," we move into my favorite track of the album, the superb "Moon Systems." Once again it summons prime Mastodon, bashing away with abandon while the vocals roar forth and spew a layer of fury. Then after a portentous bridge that makes good use of the hi-hat cymbal, it breaks into a rousing, serpentine melody line. Thunderous riffs follow, then morph into some excellent mid-period Corrosion of Conformity and/or Down southern swagger, then more bright melodies return, and finally this middle section subsides. The last part of the track is lazy and brooding, coated in blues guitar licks. The layering and complexity of this song are delightful, and really show the band achieving a new level of maturity.
"Halo" is very nearly as good, reeking of Mastodon at their peak, and even brings a high, atmospheric Anathema-like guitar line in its early phase. It also brings the album's heaviest moment in its closing minute, with massive, slamming beasts of riffs, while the middle is peppered with frantic, killer rhythm changes and melodies. The Druids machine is completely locked in at this point, again showing that their talents have eclipsed the trappings of amateur local rock band. They are becoming something special. Third instrumental "Oscillator" only further proves that, with an all-out smokin' rock and roll attack, while finale "Warpia" is the oddball here, practically a ballad for its first half, yet there's also a moody Neurosis-like vibe in the middle and throughout the second half. It works well to close out the album.
Cycles of Mobeum sounds like more than the sum of its parts; it has an all-important X factor that elevates it and makes it a worthwhile and cohesive journey. Druids' influences are plainly obvious, yet they avoid sounding purely derivative. Think of them as a more stoner-tinged Mastodon, but more importantly, check them out and hear how they have ascended to being one of the best unsigned bands in the Midwest.
And so yet another Minneapolis band comes to my attention and further reinforces what a hotbed of great metal that town is. Often the best artists there practice forms of atmospheric black metal, but Pestifere is a somewhat different beast -- and a more accessible one at that.
Hope Misery Death offers a colossal cavalcade of melodic blackened death metal that should prove irresistible to any fan of the metallic arts. Dissection is probably the best reference point. That seminal Swedish band is a reference point for a lot of groups, though, to the point of rampant cloning, but have no fear of that here. The magic of Dissection is the fusion of intense melodic attacks with equally intense brutality. And, I would argue, a healthy dose of thrash. So too does Pestifere pour on endless melodies that coat their black/death metal in a shining shell, but they put their own stamp on it.
If this album has any flaws, it might be that it blows its wad too soon. "Don't Let the Winter Take You," in addition to having a killer title, is a screaming barn burner of an opener. The percussive/melodic assault is fully on point, seriously deadly, and hooky as hell. But my favorite part is the tight stop/start tactic that incites headbanging every single time. Then for its final couple of minutes it gets its Opeth on. Just a ridiculously good song.
As for the rest, though, there still isn't a weak point among them. "Cormorant Tree" has a dizzying, ferocious melody that pummels the senses in the best possible way, while "Peregrine's Timbre" is a little slower, a little more brooding, but still plenty aggressive and bewitching. Gentle and morose acoustic interlude "Dispirit" gives way to the furious and flailing "Suffer the Day," which attacks with a relentless volley of blackened melodic supremacy. "Tomb of Monumental Decay" again uses melodic flourishes to great effect, but then spirals into ripping thrash à la early '80s Metallica. And the seething "Mine Is a Strange Prison" is a feral thrashbeast as well, while also unleashing some Dissection shred. It finally drops what may be the best melodic moments of the whole record, though only briefly, in two passages of tremolo picking that are absolutely enthralling. Then one more moody acoustic track, the gorgeous "To Those Who Lost Their Home" rounds out the journey on a subdued note.
Hope Misery Death is a rousing ride indeed, peppered with ear candy melodies but fully punishing in its own right. I'm a sucker for this style and find myself prone to it more often than not, but Pestifere do an especially fine job with it. Balls-out metal through and through.
This album was a late-year, come-from-nowhere gem, and I owe thanks to Austin Lunn of Panopticon for making me aware of it. Lunn does a "best of" list for NoCleanSinging.com each year, and his taste is always impeccable. Panphage is no exception.
Drengskapr is a concept album, divided into seven parts depicting moments in the saga of Grettir Àsmundarson, an Icelandic saga. Grettir spent much of his life as an outlaw, due to the fact that while his intentions were good and he performed some heroic deeds, he had a terrible temper and just plain bad luck. He was exiled from his birthplace of Iceland, then sailed to Norway and was eventually sent away from there, and upon returning to Iceland was quickly branded an outlaw after being falsely accused of setting a deadly fire. His last days were spent on an island off the northern tip of Iceland. The violence and tragedy of the saga are well-rendered by the turbulent black metal found on the record, and the vibe of each song matches the topic of that segment.
The first notable characteristic is the production -- it is savagely raw and icy, but not too thin. There's enough flesh on it to pack a punch, so it achieves a nice balance of being true to a blackened aesthetic while not being anemic. But it's one-upped by the awesome vocals, which are delivered in a coarse, barking style. They really shine, though, when they become violently deranged, such as on "Landrensningen." Here they sound barely contained, like emanations from a wild beast pacing its cage, ready to attack anything that gets too close to the bars. Later in this same incredible track, the utterances devolve into crazy, malicious retching that is an absolute delight. On the other hand, there are also some clean vocals here too, done in a very Viking-esque chant.
Musically, Panphage is pretty stripped-down in sound, though frosty tremolo guitar melodies do anchor most songs. "Landrensningen" has an epic Viking metal intro, and the seas on which it rides boil and churn, followed by an incredible melodic attack. "Glam Rider Husen" is also melodic, but more of a straightforward rager, with a classic heavy metal touch. Instrumental "Glamsyn" is placed smack dab in the center of the album, and uses its moody keyboard and ambience, backed by the lonely sound of wind, to effectively break up the black storms which bookend it. Of those storms, another highlight is the crushing "Utlagr." It begins with surprising major chords, then switches to pulse-pounding fury before just plain rocking out. This cycle is repeated while exhilarating Viking cries are added, but it all culminates with a massive, grunted "UGH!!!" as machine-gun drumming and razor guitar riffs explode in grinding intensity that makes headbanging absolutely mandatory. More Viking chants are added to summon total fist-pumping rapture.
With its grim-yet-catchy take on black metal, its ability to go balls to the wall on aggression, and the uncanny vocals, Drengskapr is simply irresistible. Grab a tankard of ale and hail the gods (and Grettir Àsmundarson) with your Scandinavian brothers and sisters. Skol!
I listen to a lot of doom metal. Probably not so much as black metal, but still a lot. And of all the doom releases in 2016, this monster by Subterranean Disposition is one of only a few that really got its hooks in me. Oddly enough, since I'm mentioning doom and black in the same sentence, SD is a one-man band -- something routine in black metal, but quite rare in doom. That man is Terry Vainoras, though to be fair it's not a fully solo endeavor, as Dan Nahum handled percussion. Still, Vainoras' impressive list of credits includes composition, vocals, guitars, bass, keyboards, and -- believe it or not -- tenor sax.
Vainoras quickly proves himself to be a man of many talents indeed. After an intro track, the curiously titled "Wooden Kimono Fixative" leads the way into the proper album, and sure enough, there's that saxophone. It's clear this is not your average doom record. Still, once the sax lays down a languid initial passage, accompanied by equally unhurried drumming, the vocals shatter the serenity with a savage roar. Their style is absolutely fantastic, brutal yet rather intelligible, akin to those of Paul Kuhr from November's Doom. But they don’t just stay in that realm, instead alternating with spoken word and an odd sort of nasally clean vocal. "Wooden…" also sets the stage for running time, clocking in at just over 11 minutes. Get used to it, because the remaining tracks range from 10 to damn near 13 minutes in length, with the balance skewing toward the latter.
Thankfully, these weighty durations are deftly handled by skilled songwriting. The tracks don't feel burdensome and make fine use of dynamics, shifting from quiet and ominous to waves of devastation. Through "Embittered,""All Roads Lead to Perdition," and "A Lifelong Slumber," the material remains intriguing and engaging. "All Roads…" bears a striking resemblance to the material of Cult of Luna or Isis in their prime, the chameleon vocals even adopting the post-hardcore style for which those bands are known. "...Slumber," on the other hand, showcases a clean, and quite pleasing, vocal that could easily be mistaken for that of Green Carnation. Well, minus the intense surges of thunderous doom that periodically punctuate it. This superb song is a plodding mammoth, never stampeding but taking its time to crush all in its path, and some of the less punishing guitar work also reminds of Green Carnation.
But "Contagiuum…" saves the best for last, to an almost terrifying degree. In fact, no album finale in 2016 set my senses aflame more than the one here, the seething, fiery "Aggressors Clothed as Victims." Or, even though I love that title, what I could refer to as "The Donald Trump Song." First, it begins with this quote from 18th-century philosopher Adam Smith: "All for ourselves, and nothing for other people, seems, in every age of the world, to have been the vile maxim of the masters of mankind." That's some choice shit. Then check the opening verse:
"To pass through the eye of the needle and arrive at some gate of reward
To live at odds with the truth -- blinkered, bound and gagged."
Right?! Come on, people. That's art and life colliding, right there. And that awesomeness is but a prelude to the choruses, which erupt into mind-shattering intensity and -- another surprise -- black metal tremolo guitar! The raging fervor of these sections cannot be overstated, and every time I hear them I'm rocked to my core, spurred to air guitar madness, tense and bristling with emotion. Every. Single Time. The brilliant final lines go:
"Hegemony hammer home illusions of consent
Dystopia ad nauseam
Aggressors clothed as victims."
Yeah. Could not have said it any better than that. What a welcome and necessary release in these troubled times, to have that rage channeled just so.
Subterranean Disposition has created a titanic recording that is unique in its approach, creatively written and executed, and highly rewarding. As inclined as I am toward doom metal in general, it is surely refreshing to encounter such works that set themselves apart and are utterly unafraid to walk their own path. Doom on, Terry. Doom the fuck on.
https://hypnoticdirgerecords.bandcamp.com/album/contagiuum-and-the-landscapes-of-failure
Woman Is the Earth is the only metal band I know from South Dakota. Hell, it's the only band I know from South Dakota, period. I'm sure there are others, but the talent of these guys can carry the whole state. I've been trying and failing to acquire their previous release, Depths, for the last couple of years, so I'll take it as a blessing that they've released this one to occupy me instead.
This threesome from the Black Hills plays some pretty spectacular black metal. Or to be specific, it falls into the post-black metal category, as it's not the most traditional. It makes superb use of atmospheric elements, and has a Cascadian vibe much of the time. I'm not sure if it's the production, the playing style, or some combination thereof, but the guitars have a soft, shimmery, hazy quality about them that makes this material stand out from most of the black metal pack. That is not to say that there is a lack of aggression here, as the harsh vocals handle that admirably enough, and certainly that defining hallmark of black metal -- speed -- is present. But this album often finds success more in its introspective qualities.
Perhaps for that reason, it can also be deceptive. I really questioned whether it would rise up to be one of the best releases of the year, as it occasionally walks the line of aimlessness. And just as you might be about to get restless or question the journey, it will unleash such total grandeur that it sweeps away the momentary doubt in a tide of sheer genius. "Broken Hands" is probably the best example. It is immediately engaging, delivering guitar chords that positively purr with that hazy shimmer, but by the midpoint it has settled into almost a doom trudge, laden with atmosphere but arguably lingering in those moments a bit too long before finding its way to an echoey acoustic package. Yet immediately on its tail, "Sorrow and the Floods" is nothing short of masterful. It starts by making great use of a haunting keyboard backdrop, then riding a lush guitar melody that gives way to a different, lovely, and longing melody. That then segues into hypnotic tremolo picking which is subsumed by a blast of speed as it shifts into pure obsidian metallic madness, and becomes very Panopticon-like. More and more melodies and time shifts follow in a dizzying array, until the climax is reached in the form of piercing guitar melodies flung outward, shooting fiercely into the night against mercilessly tight rhythmic blasts. It's like earth tremors and lightning strikes occurring in tandem, and leaves you spent and shocked, but exhilarated. What a monumental song.
Not to be outdone, the title track streams forth with blackened violence, the downshifting chords magical in their progression, and then suddenly the song completely stops for a moment, the only sound a ghostly and ethereal keyboard note hanging in mid air. Brilliant. As the track progresses through to its final moments, I again hear a lot of Panopticon. Closer "Lungcrusher" opts for a different tactic, awash in a sort of ambient doom, though still utilizing drums and a persistent, glimmering guitar melody in the background.
Torch of Our Final Night is far less about individual songs than about the big picture. Noting which track or song you're on is at best distracting, and at worst futile, as the tapestry matters more than the threads. And as that cohesive whole, it is highly successful. Woman Is the Earth is mining something in those Black Hills, but it ain't gold, it's a different kind of metal -- inspired, artistic, and captivating.
https://womanistheearth.bandcamp.com/album/torch-of-our-final-night
The coalescence of art and place is a beautiful thing. The war album that truly feels as if it were written amongst the battlefields and graves...the bluegrass album that summons a real sense of Appalachia -- I offer that sincere expressions of these are rare. But in this ambitious endeavor, Scotland's Saor succeeds brilliantly.
Saor (pronounced somewhat like "sir") is but one man, and that man is Andy Marshall. I never fail to be amazed by the frequency at which black metal acts are created by a single person. And while that certainly can and does lead to output which is lacking, often in the percussion department where drum machines might be used, there really is a remarkable number of these solo projects that showcase staggering talent. Marshall does get plenty of help, with session members taking care of drums, fiddle, bodhran and bagpipes, but what matters here is songwriting and that's all him. And it is top-notch.
The opening moments of the title track begin with the sound of wind and ravens, and already one is transported to another world. As haunting and majestic bagpipes enter, that world is revealed as the Scottish Highlands. And for the duration of the album's five lengthy tracks, that’s where you'll stay. Wander through the heather and the moors and the mist, with Saor's sublime instrumentation as your constant guide and companion. The lyrics, naturally, have a solitary focus as well, weaving poems of woe and sorrow, of Scotland's slaughtered sons that fought and died for her. And they literally are poems, with all five tracks' lyrics being from established poetic works. Most notably with "The Declaration" coming from the man himself, the national poet of Scotland, Robert Burns, and his poem "Scots Wha Hae;" and "Hearth" derived from "Breathes there the man," by Sir Walter Scott. Of course, you'll have to turn to the lyric sheet to know and decipher all that because Marshall delivers most of the vocals in a flat, raspy bellow.
Saor is greatly admired by, and has collaborated with, another mighty one-man black metal band: Panopticon, a.k.a. Austin Lunn. Perhaps by no coincidence, these artists share the same songwriting style to a large degree. Both have a spacious approach with varied instrumentation, both rely heavily on folk elements, and both are unafraid to set aside the gloom at times and deliver genuinely uplifting passages. Here that is no more true than in closer "Tears of a Nation." While the lyrics are pure grief, it ends with a rousing call to arms, truly inspirational and hopeful in scope and power.
Substitute bagpipes and fiddle for Panopticon's Americana and bluegrass, and you’re pretty much there in understanding what "Guardians" has in store. Warm, rich, and expansive in sound, though more than willing to lay down some atmospheric blackened speed, it is above all a work of consummate professionalism. Folk metal as a subgenre is fraught with peril and rarely delivers quality that does more than scratch the surface, but Saor is a different beast altogether -- a Tartan-clad, Claymore-swinging beast that will leave its hallowed Highland ground sown with the corpses of inferior artists.
Hailing from Colorado, another state which seems to be churning out a number of great bands the last few years, Wayfarer offers up its sophomore effort. The thing that is interesting and refreshing about the band is that they don't just play a standard form of pagan black metal. Being a huge fan of that subgenre, I wouldn’t mind if they did, but I quite enjoy the big fat dose of death metal employed here.
It doesn’t take first track "Ever Climbing" long to kick some serious ass, serving up thundering double bass and wicked tremolo guitar. But again, this is not your lo-fi or icy or grim BM. The production is huge, thick and booming, and the air pulses around your speakers with the bombastic noise streaming from them. The vocals, too, are distinctly un-black metal, being delivered in a massive, quaking roar. Pagan and atmospheric elements are woven in, however, with a wistful guitar melody about ⅔ of the way through the song. And then, just to make sure you are kept on your toes, things spiral headlong into D-beat crust punk! The 10 ½-minute opus ends by subsiding to chunky riffs and repeating the main melody, the guitar standing alone and echoing into darkness. A potent, ravaging opener.
The instrumental "Frontiers" paves the way for what I consider the centerpiece of the record, the immense and devastating "Old Souls' New Dawn." Again guitar tremolo is used to amazing effect, coupled with colossal drums and bass that are like Army tanks mercilessly grinding everything under their treads. Letting off the assault for a bit, we get some soulful acoustic guitar in the track's middle, before the pummeling resumes and the song circles back to that hypnotically crushing tremolo guitar.
If this album could spawn a radio single, it would be "Catcher." At a bite-size 4:38, it’s practically half the length of most other tracks here, and it's...well...catchy. Very much so, in fact, with a grooving, head-nodding rhythm line. Acoustic guitar makes a brief entrance before drummer Isaac Faulk lays waste to his kit, and the track actually contains the first appearance of a standard speedy black metal tempo, but it settles back into that main groove to finish. "Deathless Tundra" seems all the more patient and deliberate as a follow-up, and takes its sweet time to build to a flailing blackened beatdown. A second instrumental, "The Dust Lakes," is a bridge to closing track "All Lost in Aimless Chaos," which comes screaming out of the gate with a skull-rattling attack and plenty of frenzied blackness. Dynamically alternating between melancholy passages and a vicious machine-gun rhythmic strike, this remarkable tune drives home just how skilled the band is at melding true brutality with soothing introspection.
Fusing death and black metal is nothing new. Some blacken their death while others death up their black, but I've never heard the hybrid rendered as it is in Wayfarer's formula. Previously unknown to me, they’ve made an indelible mark on the US black metal scene. Old Souls is a breathtaking force of nature.
I was already sweet on Krigsgrav due to their prior album, The Carrion Fields, which made my top five in 2014. And while Waves of Degradation may be more subtle and thus trickier to embrace, and displays a slight style shift for the band, it offers no shortage of golden moments that found me falling in love again.
It doesn't hurt that the introduction of first track "Under Trembling Stars" sounds a whole lot like Anathema. As it gains momentum and heads for black metal territory, one thing noticeably absent is as much of an Agalloch influence. This is pagan, atmospheric black metal to be sure, but with a slightly more post-modern twist. The clean vocals that enter the track cement that, as does the overall embrace of a middle tempo, though it ramps up to mesmerizing full blast at times. The use of mouth harp adds a great folk element.
"Son of the Stones" has an almost Cure-like new wave style to it, rather in the vein of Alcest. The melancholy melody lines woven through its center are beguiling, as is the high tremolo picking that leads into the final moments. Here the spectre of Agalloch does raise its head, which is no bad thing. "The Failures of Man" starts languidly, then settles into a mid-paced trudge yet shows no lack of intensity, feeling very driven and purposeful. More Cure-like gloom follows, then morphs into some quiet tremolo, and the urgency and volume builds until it abruptly plunges to earth to be replaced by chunky riffs and wistful Agallochian chords. Shortly thereafter, high, ethereal notes tease at the heavens to finish out the song while plunging chords circle the drain to hell. The layering and diversity of this track is wondrous to behold.
"To Rest Beneath the Waters" is the instrumental penultimate track that makes excellent use of violins to sound both eloquent and elevated, while also being incredibly lovely. It sets the stage for not just the album's finale, but its highlight, the monstrous, sprawling, nearly 16-minute "As Color Fades From the Earth." Now, the use of film samples in music can be totally overdone, or leveraged masterfully. Here it is most certainly the latter, as a moment from the post-apocalyptic soul crusher The Road is utilized brilliantly. The song moves from high point to high point, making use of choir vocals, more mouth harp, and a cornucopia of enthralling melodies. Its most jaw-dropping segment comes just prior to the 5:30 mark, when it explodes into blackened velocity, then hammers out Cascadian tremolo guitar that summons pure ecstasy. The chord changes are perfection, evoking raw, pagan glory. Later it subsides into single, solemn guitar notes that again nod toward Agalloch, forming a lengthy interlude that bridges to a resumption of a faster pace, and finally the track sighs to completion with the sound of ocean waves crashing on a beach.
I listened to a staggering amount of black metal in 2016, and Krigsgrav once again managed to rise above the fray as some of the best to be found. Their playing and songwriting are stellar, but more than that, they exude a primal passion and sincerity that push them into a higher echelon.
You wouldn't look at the clean-cut, mostly bespectacled members of Ashbringer and think black metal. Or maybe you would, in that one of the things for which post-black metal is often known is its shedding of traditional BM imagery. And while you could assign the post-black label to this band, I don't think it would be fair to do so. No, this is gloriously atmospheric pagan black metal, glowing like a heathen blaze in a forest clearing.
The build of "Solace" is slow, taking over 100 seconds to introduce the album, but when the affair shifts into gear, it slams the pedal to the floor. A blackened storm erupts, dripping with atmosphere, as simple but effective guitar melodies weave through the chaos. Later a synthesizer is added that further enhances the aura. The second half of the track is announced by a calm and haunting acoustic guitar passage, and another melody builds in urgency until percussion returns to lead at a firm but unhurried pace to a conclusion rife with an Agallochian quality. The transition to "Oceans Apart" is seamless, without any realization that there's been a track change at all; it just seems like a new movement of the same song. The melodies of Solace are great' but "Oceans…" shows them up in every way, the guitar notes effortless, ethereal, and reminiscent of Oak Pantheon's work. At only five minutes long, this track is one of the shortest, but it packs an unbelievable amount of power and feeling into that time. An early highlight.
"Lakeside Meditation" attacks in a flurry of high tremolo guitar before settling into Agalloch/Oak Pantheon territory, and the rocking almost-Smiths-like guitar riffs here are a treasure in between all the mesmerizing tremolo work. "In Remembrance" has a lighter feel, uses a lot of sparkling keyboard notes, and even some jazz interplay in the shuffling percussion. Not my favorite, but I appreciate the diversity it brings to the middle of the album. It is also the turning point where Yūgen goes from great to truly stunning.
"Celestial Infancy" is essentially Oak Pantheon fused with Anathema, a heady and intoxicating combination for me indeed. The icy cold, gorgeously high and otherworldly tremolo guitar raises the hair upon the skin, inviting exhilarating chills. The Anathema resemblance comes in the use of synthesized vocals at the end, utilized to spectacular effect in their song "Closer," and very nearly as good here. There's also something in the big, spacious riffs that harken back to Anathema's resounding progressive genius. But as "Celestial…" merges into the next track, any and all conception of what Yūgen is goes out the window.
The keystone and utter triumph of the title track is in the angelic female vocal that dominates it. The use of soaring female background vocals in metal became a hot technique in the '90s, and then was quickly done to death and lost most of its value. But one band that had the most effective take on it was Norway's The Third and the Mortal, largely because those vocals were just so damned good. Those used here are in that realm, and make you understand why so many bands fell under the concept's spell. Elizabeth Redding is the vocalist here, and her pure and airy tone is just magical. Combined with the driving, intense rhythm and atmosphere of the music, this is a song that holds me utterly riveted every time I play it. In this moment it becomes clear that the members of Ashbringer are not just some metal dudes from Minnesota, but sharply talented songwriters with brilliant ideas.
"Omen" is a lovely instrumental, almost regal-sounding by its end, that leads into finale "Glowing Embers, Dying Fire." Bombastic from the start, it brings the Ashbringer elements -- pagan ambience, piercing melodies, and effective keyboard use -- together for a fitting and excellent end. Its final seconds are nothing but the sound of a crackling fire. The pagan conflagration that was both fuel and backdrop to this remarkable work is now spent. Luckily, Ashbringer has captured and immortalized the experience through this inspired recording so it can live on forever.
I stray outside the realm of metal pretty often, but relative to the big picture, it's a small fraction. Still, I greatly enjoy discovering non-metal bands that amaze and delight, and in 2016 my greatest such discovery was without a doubt The Lowest Pair. I caught this folk/bluegrass duo live in the Fall, and after their superb set I was hooked.
The Lowest Pair is comprised of Kendl Winter and Palmer T. Lee. Both have made the rounds on the folk circuit and Winter is active in her solo work, but together they are a remarkable force. Both play the banjo, both play the guitar, and both play them damned well. I'm a sucker for banjo and there's enough killer pickin' on display here to woo me all on its own, yet the main chemistry exists in the vocals. Winter has a high, girlish, country twang and while Palmer's Minnesota roots don't give him any Southern flavor, his voice is soulful and earnest. Combined, their harmony is a charming, irresistible phenomenon.
Indeed, the very first seconds of the album are graced by that bewitching harmony in "The River Will," as their voices burst forth a cappella. Musically, though, this opener is also a rager, with dual banjo and lots of delicious minor chords, presenting an overall air akin to 16 Horsepower. For "Tagged Ear," things turn beautifully melancholy, the delicately plucked notes floating from the banjo and merging with solid and excellently played strums of guitar. Winter and Lee sound so natural together; you can tell they feed off one another, and the musical interplay feels effortless.
"Stranger" is one of my absolute favorites, a clever and witty song that is also simultaneously endearing and heartfelt. And oh that vocal harmony -- here it is just achingly perfect, mesmerizing and exquisite. The same could be said of the brilliant "Totes," a song that packs a ton of emotion and sincerity into just over two minutes. The Lowest Pair truly has a gift not just for music but for lyrics, and both these songs are splendid in that respect. They conjure sadness and longing and hope, and somehow you can always just imagine smirks at the corners of their creators' mouths.
And then there are the dark bluegrass powerhouses "Sweet Breath" and "Waiting for the Taker." "Sweet Breath" is a total inferno, featuring fingers flying across banjo and guitar strings, the tempo gasping, urgent, and furious. As much as I love the ballads, this ripper is in the style that made me fall in love with bluegrass in the first place. Just utterly fantastic. "Waiting…" takes the slower, moodier path, but it presses on the listener almost as strongly with a sort of brooding menace. Again 16 Horsepower comes to mind, which is high praise in my book. It's slower, that is, until the end, when it ramps up and once again shows formidable picking skills.
Crazily enough, Fern Girl and Ice Man was but one of two albums The Lowest Pair released in 2016. After touring in 2015, they had written enough material so they boldly decided on two simultaneous releases. The other, Uncertain as It Is Uneven, is excellent as well, but it doesn't have the same cohesive and transformative power. Even in the moments that lean in a less-preferable country direction, I still find joy and respect the immense songwriting talent at hand. In fact, after what feels like hundreds of listens, I feel like I'm continuing to peel back the layers of this record and find new things to love. The Lowest Pair offers a respite for this old metalhead for which he never asked, but when music is this good, genres are rendered meaningless anyway.
I often admire complexity in music. Certainly I appreciate an album that unfolds itself to me in layers, hooking me with a song or even a moment, then pulling me deeper and deeper into total obsession. And then there are albums that do one thing, never deviate from it, and do it extremely well. Say hello to Uada.
Hailing from the black metal haven of Portland, Oregon, Uada do indeed bring a certain Cascadian element to their music, but the most obvious comparison is to Polish masters Mgła. "Natus Eclipsim" rockets to hyperspeed after only the briefest of intros, and yes, tremolo guitar immediately comes streaming in Mgła-like fashion. Similar melodies, similar chord changes. But what soon becomes evident is that Uada is no clone. They spike their melodic black brew with serious hits of rock 'n' roll. And then they keep doing it. And doing it. And they never let up.
The title track deceives with a nodding mid tempo for all of 35 seconds before hitting turbo boost, and is once again off and flailing, the melodies turning so fast and furiously they could bore a hole in the Oregon wilderness, straight to the pits of Hell. And again Uada hand out nearly equal parts of rock sensibility, laying down some fat bass lines, then invoking a headbanger's delight by delivering shuffling beats and massive grooves. "S.N.M." stays more firmly rooted in pure black metal, and has this fantastic tremolo that hangs out in middle range, then slingshots into high notes and back again. Yet there's a grimy, piledriving, almost crust punk aesthetic to it as well. "Our Pale Departure" hurls out some more Mgła-styled wrath with precision, but will not allow itself to sneak by without a solid thrash breakdown. And finally, "Black Autumn, White Spring" may well be the most compelling track here from both the black metal and rock perspectives. The blackened parts are glorious, with beautifully menacing chord changes, and then punctuated by sudden stops and wailing guitar notes that soar upward and fade into the night sky. But the track ultimately rocks out with wild abandon, thrashing left and right and unleashing a total rock god guitar solo. Show me Mgła doing one of those.
One of my favorite aspects of this record are the vocals. Shrieks, growls, screams, low roars, grunts, demented howls -- they're all here, and there is frequent variation between them. At times it all sounds positively unhinged, a total delight. In fact, while the incessant energy of the songs goes a long way toward making them feel incredibly vital, the vocals push them to the next level and reek of real passion.
Unrelenting, unyielding, and totally engrossing, Uada will flatten you with every listen, while also inspiring air guitar and thrash antics. The only drawback is that the album is quite short at slightly under 34 minutes. But that's why they make a "Repeat" button. And friends, you are gonna wanna use it.
Oh my beloved Alcest. What started as a solo project of prolific French mastermind Neige is now on its fifth album. Over the years it has been about varying amounts of black metal vs. post-rock vs. shoegaze vs. "blackgaze." 2014's Shelter was the least metal yet, fully embracing lighter elements, yet no less enthralling for it. Those with a taste for the blacker arts will be pleased to know that Kodama reverses the trend to some degree.
The title track, however, doesn't give any hint of that as it opens the album. It's a stellar song, with big, resonating open chords that seem to radiate outward with no limit. The vocal treatment in the sections between verse and chorus remind me of the Pet Shop Boys song "Heart," and there's just a bit of Anathemaic shimmer in the female background vocals. And with follower "Eclosion," we start firmly in territory that's a pure homage to The Cure's melancholy strains. But wait -- suddenly there's a shift to a frenetic build, a passage of urgency and intensity that still reeks of post-rock yet strongly flirts with a black metal tempo. Settling back into shoegazey gloom, a harsh, grating vocal shortly emerges to snap things back on a taut leash of aggression. This song walks the line of blackgaze expertly, resorting back to those Cure-like melodies and staying rooted in gloomy aesthetics, but pouring on just the right touch of screamed, scathing vocals.
"Je Suis D'ailleurs" now fully roars to the other side of the spectrum as it builds tension with shuffling percussion and some portentous tremolo guitar, then punches the gas at the midway mark and blasts into gorgeous black metal. It never loses its fundamental Alcest-ness, but there's no getting around the fury, proving that the band hasn't lost any ability to go for the jugular when it so desires. Next, "Untouched" shows no signs of its predecessor's lovely ugliness whatsoever, but turns out to be one of my favorite tracks. This masterful song just sounds so, so huge, the chords streaming to the stratosphere with total abandon yet total control, and gleaming with light and beauty. It seems neither complex nor inventive, but it is surely effective. Words are not sufficient to describe just how emotionally evocative the chord arrangement is.
"Kodama" essentially grows stronger and stronger as it progresses, culminating in the staggering "Oiseaux de Proie." Here again the arrangement and songwriting are truly inspired, and many bands can never hope to achieve the sheer emotional battering ram that Alcest conjures. Black metal vocals make a reappearance, but are only a teaser of what is to come. The tempo suddenly ramps up to a frantic pace, with brilliant rhythmic shifts, then the song grows quieter and simmers briefly before utterly detonating in a blinding flash. The searing black metal tempo that emerges is jaw-dropping, stunning, and invigorating, and the chord changes -- oh gods, those chord changes -- are sheer, ecstatic bliss. It is perfection. It is sonic euphoria. It is so good it hurts, and I ache from the beauty of it. In its furious wake emerges the one track that is somewhat of a disappointment, the instrumental "Onyx." It's no more than an ambient wash of sound, and while it actually does fit as the denouement of the record, it could have gone on for 30 seconds instead of nearly four minutes, and been more successful.
One major aspect that makes the songs on Kodama so successful is that they are given room to breathe. They're very deliberate. They have space for the sounds to gel and coalesce, and move at their own pace. I saw Alcest live a few years ago when they opened for Anathema and at the time I sort of understood that pairing and I sort of didn't. Now I think it makes more sense to me than ever. With their expert songcraft and progressive elements, Alcest truly is at the level of progressive rock/metal godhood.
There is a (literal) virtual feast of independent music just awaiting you on the interwebs, but at times I am taken aback by just how good some of these bands are. Or rather, I'm taken aback that they remain independent. It is indeed a grave injustice that Brighton, UK outfit King Goat have not yet been signed and promoted by a label, despite being in existence since 2012.
The vocals alone are enough to warrant that far greater attention be paid to this band. Anthony "Trim" Trimming is a spellbinding force, occupying territory somewhere between Candlemass' Messiah Marcolin and Solitude Aeturnus' (and ex-Candlemass) Robert Lowe. His tone is rich and pure, while his control and dynamism are extremely impressive. What pleases me most, though, is his inflection. There are numerous turns of phrase scattered across these songs that just sound so damn great. Combinations of the words themselves and that voice elevate the results to being truly special. In perhaps the finest example, the end of the title track features Trim sounding grandiose, downright regal, while joined by a few female background singers. The harmony and atmosphere created are pure fucking magic.
True to the vocal style, Conduit is a doom record. Chords can be massive and the overall mood is sullen. The middle of "Flight of the Deviants" descends into shuddering, quaking low end. "Feral King" is just straight-up Candlemass. But this album comes out of its shell and announces itself as something exceptional in all the non-traditional things that it does. Trim, for example, occasionally surprises when his clean vocal viciously morphs into a seething growl, then twists again into a withering death metal roar, or he unleashes a wall of acidic screeching as a backdrop to a bridge. And musically, the brilliant oddball "Revenants" attacks with what is essentially black metal tremolo melody, albeit warmer and slower. Yet it doesn't sit askew in the overall picture, but rather adds another gleaming facet to this gem.
King Goat sounds like a group of total pros in absolute command of their art and their abilities. Their songs are expertly arranged and belie their indie status. Conduit is polished yet evocative, a doomed juggernaut with more than a few surprises up its gargantuan sleeve. Despite all my lavish praise, it was a dark horse -- er, goat -- in 2016 that I assumed I would come to like well enough, but that would fall by the wayside on the path of greater albums. I could not have been more wrong. Seek and ye shall find.
Khemmis have out-Pallbearer'd Pallbearer. In 2016 they were THE band that rose to relative metal stardom, even claiming Album of the Year from Decibel magazine. Like Pallbearer, they have one prior album, Absolution, that garnered attention but remained somewhat under the radar (though more so in their case). And where Pallbearer was suddenly on everyone's lips with their sophomore effort Foundations of Burden, Khemmis have unleashed their follow-up masterpiece Hunted upon an unsuspecting world and claimed the throne of DOOM, decked out in a gleaming halo of classic heavy metal.
The first thing to note about Hunted is just how goddamned gloriously heavy it is. Riffs thud and crunch with palpable vibration in the lower frequencies. Opening track "Above the Water" hits its main stride in just under a minute and delivers monstrous, rocking swagger punctuated by low guitar squeals. Let there be no doubt, this is a doom record. Yet Khemmis' real strength lies in their devotion to metallic melodies, which are scrawled across the face of the album. High points include the incredibly Pallbearer-like "Candlelight," with a rich and sultry, yet sinister, guitar lick that is repeated during the chorus; the scaled, resplendent, melodic dual-guitar attack midway through and to the end of "Beyond the Door;" and the Iron Maiden-esque bombast which elevates the title track to the sublime.
Just to ensure there is no risk of the listener falling into a doom stupor, middle track "Three Gates" erupts furiously, smacking of High on Fire's best moments, bursting with groove and intensity. Given the overall clean vocal approach on the album, the deathy growls at the forefront of the song are downright shocking on first listen, but quickly prove to be a welcome surprise. More must be said, however, of those clean vocals -- they are not just clear and well-delivered, but absolutely lovely, with a silken and majestic tone. They nicely enhance the professional feel of the material.
Now will be the time when everyone gets on the Khemmis bandwagon, but there is no denying the power, class, grace and conviction of this album. Incredibly polished and skillfully produced, yet retaining credibility through its deep sincerity, Hunted fully deserves every ounce of praise it gets.
As any Agalloch fan might guess, Oak Pantheon seems to take its name from a phrase in Agalloch's brilliant song "In the Shadow of Our Pale Companion," which contains some of my all-time favorite lyrics. This supposition is further cemented by the fact that Oak Pantheon sound a whole lot like Agalloch. The latest release from the Minneapolis duo does little to deter that opinion, and that suits me just fine.
While the band has kept up a fairly steady stream of releases, In Pieces is only their second full-length, but it is packed with over 60 minutes of pagan black metal grandeur. They risk blowing their wad too early by opening with the stunning "Dawn as a New Day," possibly the album's finest track. It gallops out of the gate at a steady pace, occasionally bursting into full speed blasting, and seething with atmosphere. About two-thirds of the way in, it settles into an acoustic lull, then explodes into its zenith with a breathtaking melodic flourish. As hypnotic tremolo picking wells up in the background, the shrieking vocals reach a fever pitch. Lyrically this song is about the author at his mother's deathbed, and as the anguished vocals, gorgeous melodies, and powerful rhythmic shifts all coalesce, the emotion is palpable, raw and intense. Gives me goosebumps every time.
"Climb" is more subdued, but rock solid and with an understated magnificence all its own. Melody and brilliant chord changes are key to perhaps all of these tracks, but here are used with an especially deft hand. "Float" is just plain fun for its supercharged, rollicking intro which descends into chunky, ass-kicking riffs that suddenly dissolve into a sound similar to a tape grinding to a halt. That lasts only a brief instant before speed takes the reins again and drives the song nearly to completion, ultimately giving way to an acoustic outro. "Enormity" is aptly named, clocking it at close to 12 minutes and wallowing in a slow build and steady burn. Over its course it hits upon various styles, at one point being a dead ringer for mid-period Opeth. In the second half it swells with cello, and oddly enough takes on a very distinct movie score quality, sort of a darkest-before-the-dawn, ominous-yet-hopeful vibe that precedes the hero's return to triumph over adversity. Again, it's odd and yet I love the way it works. It gives way to enormous riffs, while more glorious tremolo guitar is painted across the backdrop and the lyric "In pieces" is sung repeatedly, giving this song the feel of being the centerpiece/title track of the album.
"Grasp the Apparition" is strangely upbeat, containing largely major chords. It isn't power metal, yet it almost has that character to it. Certainly it brings in more traditional heavy metal elements, but even veers into blackgaze or post-black metal for a moment, sounding like Alcest. On initial listens it seemed to be a track that passed by without notice, but I came to realize its placement in the running order serves well to introduce variety. That may be all the more true as it seamlessly bleeds into the subsequent Pavor Nocturnus," a monstrously powerful tune that is just pure Agalloch. Its mid-paced trudge drives forward relentlessly, perfectly accented by tremolo melody, the track culminating in grim and vicious lyrics. As a whole it is smoldering and sublime, second only to "Dawn as a New Day" in sheer might.
"Burden of Growth" also has an apt title, as this song is a serious grower. Like "Grasp the Apparition," it always seemed to get lost in early listens, but it has a very different tone. In fact, it has much in common with Anathema circa "Judgement" -- the acoustic intro, the high guitar lines that stretch to the heavens, and even a proggy Pink Floyd aesthetic. There are shades of Agalloch, but this track very much distinguishes itself from the others, and that again helps diversify this record. Also like "Grasp…," it transitions into the next track, the finale "Godson." Maintaining the Anathema feel for the first couple minutes, this closer then blends that with an Opeth style before becoming very much like Opeth indeed in its use of melody, acoustics, and even the vocal approach. In its final two minutes, an Anathema quality reemerges, but with a definite black metal wash -- essentially resulting in a spectacular Agalloch/Anathema fusion, uniting two of my favorite bands in one spellbinding attack. Total bliss.
Minneapolis has been nothing short of a hub for amazing metal in the past few years, and for black metal in particular. Oak Pantheon stands at the head of that pack, delivering flawless and stellar musicianship and songwriting. I can only hope they flesh out the band at some point with a third member, at least for touring, and bring their blackened, intoxicating genius to the stage.