Valecnik's Top 15 of 2017
Okay, look -- I’m not kidding myself. Rochester, NY’s Mavradoxa sounds a lot like Agalloch. No, I mean A LOT. They have got that formula about as nailed as can be. But given that Agalloch is one of my all-time favorites, I’m not exactly inclined to take issue with that.
When the acoustic guitar of intro “Cicadan” comes trickling out of the speakers there’s really no questioning the Agalloch influence, and first proper song “The Phantom Visages” certainly doesn’t dissuade one from it either. It contains those hallmark elements of the Agalloch sound to an incredible degree. The pervasive melancholy, the harsh vocals hanging out in the mid-range (and their inflection), the guitars that are stony and cold on the rhythms but warm and rich on the leads, and the powerfully pagan aesthetic -- they’re all here.
That is not to say there is no deviation in flavor, though. Both bands are fine wines, each reflecting their character a little differently. Where Mavradoxa really excels is in their melodic attack, and the final few minutes of “The Phantom Visages” provide a fine example. Melody bursts forth astride some great tremolo picking, albeit slower than most black metal. But when a second guitar joins for the dual harmony, it sounds amazing. Granted, there is only guitarist in the band so some studio trickery is afoot, but the result is nonetheless spectacular. The album then moves into its powerhouse piece, the immense, almost-18-minute “Crimson Waves of Autumnal Flame.” Here again the Agalloch qualities are operating at peak capacity, but the riffs are something special -- so damned gorgeous and evocative. In terms of pure intensity, “From Fog” claims the honor, charging out of the gate with spellbinding trem picking. It just gets better from there, melodies and rhythms playing off one another, swirling together in an intoxicating mass.
Something I often repeat is that I don’t mind if a band seems to ape the sound of another band. But they had better do a damn good job of it, and let their own sincerity shine through the material. Mavradoxa does just that, and listening to “Lethean Lament” is a pure pleasure. In the end, that’s what matters most.
https://hypnoticdirgerecords.bandcamp.com/album/lethean-lament
I’ve never been a huge death metal guy. There are undeniable classics, especially from the Swedish scenes of the early and mid-1990s, but my heart just doesn’t lie with many subgenres of the style. These days, “cavernous” blackened death metal seems all the rage, and bands such as Zhrine and Altarage deliver some impressive work in the area. Still, while I appreciate what they do, I stop a bit short of completely clicking with it. Ah, but then we have Ireland’s Scáth na Déithe…
“Pledge Nothing but Flesh” is a frothing, voracious beast of a record. It is massively heavy and claustrophobia-inducing, but where it truly succeeds is in how it equally wields melody as a deadly weapon. Early track “Bloodless” is the prime example. For about half of its crushing, nearly 11-minute running time, it is not unlike the other aforementioned bands, blasting away through a soup of roaring, high-paced death with strongly blackened overtones. But at that midpoint, beware. The ensuing melodic assault is fucking gargantuan, an unstoppable force barreling across the sonic landscape, punctuated by wallops of bass. After a breakdown highlighting the percussion, and then a return to tense black metal pacing, that melody returns right on the heels of vocalist Cathal Hughes vomiting forth a ragged roar that goes on and on. And then just keeps going via some freakish skill that defies logic, as well as the human inability to expel that much breath and sound for that period of time. It is as shocking as it is devastating. The rest of the record showcases plenty of vitality, but honestly this monstrous track makes the album.“Pledge Nothing but Flesh” is a frothing, voracious beast of a record. It is massively heavy and claustrophobia-inducing, but where it truly succeeds is in how it equally wields melody as a deadly weapon. Early track “Bloodless” is the prime example. For about half of its crushing, nearly 11-minute running time, it is not unlike the other aforementioned bands, blasting away through a soup of roaring, high-paced death with strongly blackened overtones. But at that midpoint, beware. The ensuing melodic assault is fucking gargantuan, an unstoppable force barreling across the sonic landscape, punctuated by wallops of bass. After a breakdown highlighting the percussion, and then a return to tense black metal pacing, that melody returns right on the heels of vocalist Cathal Hughes vomiting forth a ragged roar that goes on and on. And then just keeps going via some freakish skill that defies logic, as well as the human inability to expel that much breath and sound for that period of time. It is as shocking as it is devastating. The rest of the record showcases plenty of vitality, but honestly this monstrous track makes the album.“This Unrecognized Disease” is no slouch though, heaping on more razor-sharp melody to complement the punishing low end and rhythmic attack. It’s followed by a moving instrumental entitled “Fáilte na Marbh,” which provides a nice break in the action, which is in turn followed by a juggernaut of melodic menace in the form of “The Shackled Mind.” And here again Hughes delivers sustained vocal blasts that, while not as lengthy as that of “Bloodless,” are still mightily impressive. Closing track “Search Unending” kicks into hyperspeed, but its final moments are somber and desolate, a fitting finale for this grim and merciless celebration of death.
Scáth na Déithe is what you might get if their countrymen Altar of Plagues decided to start playing cavernous death metal while keeping their melodic black metal core intact. Or if they had an evil love child with Zhrine. Either of these fantasies would have been preferable to Altar of Plagues breaking up a few years ago, but I won’t complain about having these savage brethren in their stead.
https://scathnadeithe.bandcamp.com/album/pledge-nothing-but-flesh
Holy heavy metal! There’s nothing like an album that captures the heavy metal spirit, and there really aren’t many that truly do that. But this Finnish/Swedish duo doesn’t just capture it, they fucking bleed it.
They’re a bit of an unusual act for the the black-metal-dominated Nordvis label, but that makes them stand out all the more. And actually, after a soaring, keyboard-driven intro, “The Fire Reborn” does explode with some blackened fury. But make no mistake, “The Black Tower” is first and foremost about epic heavy metal. Vocals are frequently delivered in a clean, monastic style, and this approach works beautifully and conjures feelings of power and glory. It’s not unfair to liken the musical direction to classic Hammerfall or Helloween, but only in the best possible way. Wailing guitars and driving, fist-pumping rhythms are often the stock in trade.
“Fall of Pandemonium” tears it up with a rollicking, classic In Flames bridge, held up on either side by powerhouse melodies. “Legacy” is the ballad of the bunch, a gentle and melancholy tune that brings to mind English folk metallers Forefather. The mid-tempo giant “Black Wings up High” is not only at the center of the album, it truly is the centerpiece with its stomping, doomy riffs that would be at home on a Grand Magus album. “Summoning the Starborn” is the only other track to take a black metal approach at points, sounding brilliantly like Panopticon when it does so. “Viimeinen Laki” summons some classic Amorphis, while “Rebirth of the Sun” closes out the record with a guest violinist bringing some lovely strains to this moving instrumental track.
“The Black Tower” is an inspiring slab of metal greatness. Always genuine, never cheesy, it’s a reminder of what true heavy metal is, or can be. Hail these mighty sons!
Sifting through the number of black metal releases I’m exposed to each year is daunting to say the very least. The genre is alive and well, and not lacking in quality. It comes in a diverse array of flavors, from traditional to modern to avantgarde, Satanic to pagan to urban, and everything in between. Deciphering all that and letting it percolate takes time, but when I first heard this Xenotaph album (which I came to through another black metal band posting about them -- the scene perpetuates itself!), I loved it instantly.
Old-schoolers can rejoice, because these Oakland boys are following the classic methods. Black-and-white Satanic cover art, a spindly logo with a giant inverted cross in it, and harsh production all define the aesthetic here. For me, though, it’s mostly about the guitar work. “Inversion Ritual” is a fine opener, and teases a bit with solid tremolo picking, but “Burning Core of the Psyche” really heats things up, no pun intended. Or perhaps it ices them down, since Xenotaph is more about the cold and grim. No matter how you slice it, the driving, furious guitars here are just fantastic, and drenched in atmosphere. “Bound in Eternal Opposition” brings more wickedly hypnotic axe attacks, and sounds a bit like Mutilation Rites, but not before a rocking intro that brings to mind Uada, who made one of the previous year’s best BM albums. It’s appreciated when black metal doesn’t get so caught up in “evil” and atmosphere that it forgets to simply kick ass. This is METAL, after all.
For all the traditional character of the album, it does in fact have Cascadian black metal elements, which is a relatively more recent style. “Martyred in Trinity” is just one song that illustrates that, but what makes the Xenotaph approach successful is how those Pacific Northwest riffs are wrapped so thoroughly in frozen Norwegian atmosphere, that a new synthesis is created among the sounds. For all the superb tracks here, “At War With Creation” probably highlights that union in my favorite way, with a ripping central trem melody that’s total black metal perfection.
In the end, “Media Morte…” succeeds because it comes across as incredibly genuine. The sound, the riffs, the atmosphere, and just the total badassery make it a ravishing storm of hellish, blackened thrills. When I read reviews of contemporary metal albums, I see a lot of bitching about things sounding stale or unoriginal, but music of this quality never grows tiresome.
https://transylvaniantapes.bandcamp.com/album/xenotaph-media-morte-in-vita-sumus
Void Ritual rises from the evil, grim wasteland of...Albuquerque, NM? Not exactly the first location that comes to mind for frigid black metal. But hey, “Breaking Bad” was set there, so that’s something. Ultimately, location is rendered irrelevant because this album is overflowing with vicious, top-notch blackened mayhem.
Yet another one-man project, Void Ritual is Daniel Jackson, and he brings formidable songwriting and musical skills to bear. First and foremost, the magic behind “Heretical Wisdom” is definitely the guitar. Track after track, the tone and emotion of the tremolo melodies are rock-solid. They’re often in the Cascadian style, so owe their sound to Wolves in the Throne Room, and before that the mighty Weakling. A song such as the title track, however, switches things up and has an epic feel akin to folk-tinged black metal stalwarts Forefather or Moonsorrow. The American melodies are where Void Ritual really tears shit up, though. Opener “The Flood” is a rabid beast, its melodic madness flashing from gleaming, murderous eyes. “Breathing Ice” is more elegant, more sophisticated, yet countered by husky, growling vocals that impart a death metal feel. On that note, the vocal quality is another big factor in the album’s success, as Jackson’s roar is hurled upon the listener with total conviction, powerfully driving the tracks forward.
“The Frozen Altar” is swirling, hypnotic bliss, while “Dead in Blackest Night” is a little more old school upfront, more Swedish a la Marduk, but quickly regains its Cascadian footing and weaves another melodic spell. It’s the shortest track here, and also the fastest, striking with lethal speed for its entirety. “The Maelstrom” is precisely that, an unstoppable storm of total fury, and again I hear some Moonsorrow at their most intense. It appears to let up briefly just past the midway point, offering up some cool Primordial-style riffs, and then lets fly with the greatest singular passage of the record, slicing everything in a one-mile radius to ribbons with its obscenely amazing melodic barrage. Try listening to this one without suffering a massive air guitar freakout.
“Heretical Wisdom” will have you raising the horns time and time again. As far as I’m concerned, it’s exactly what black metal ought to be -- aggressive but mesmerizing, and simultaneously wicked and beautiful. Contact Heisenberg for a gram of the pure blue stuff and enjoy some arid desert blackness.
https://throatsproductions.bandcamp.com/album/heretical-wisdom
To say that I approached new At the Drive-In material -- after 17 years! -- with some trepidation is an understatement. This seminal post-hardcore/punk band was legendary, but for me their split into the bands Sparta and The Mars Volta would prove even more important. Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez were the heart of progressive rock luminaries The Mars Volta, and I fully adore that band. I didn’t know what to expect from them reigniting ATDI after all these years, especially because TMV themselves called it quits in 2013. There was a serious lack of Bixler-Zavala/Rodriguez-Lopez in my life.
Well it turned out that I could dare to hope and dream, as “in•ter a•li•a” delivers beyond my expectations. All the classic ATDI energy is present, the tracks flailing away with fervor that is almost endlessly catchy. Even better, these songs aren’t just a rehash of the ATDI style. Rather they effectively bridge this band with TMV, to my great delight. Take, for example, “Pendulum in a Peasant Dress.” Its bridge could comfortably sit astride most TMV albums. But more than specifics, there’s an overall progressive vibe that links the bands together.
With the exception of the annoyingly upbeat “Tilting at the Univendor,” every track here is gold. Despite the long hiatus, the band hasn’t missed a beat, and the playing is tight, concise, and potent. Aside from the brilliantly moody “Ghost-Tape No. 9,” these tracks all rock like hell, and Bixler-Zavala’s vocals are frequently fiery and bursting at the seams. One of the things I love most about TMV, and to a degree ATDI, is how they play with language. TMV is notorious for forming quirky and beguiling portmanteaus, evident in album titles such as “Amputecture” and “Noctourniquet.” ATDI’s lingual gymnastics are more at the verse level, but equally alluring. Of special mention are “Holtzclaw,” with its raging punk breakdowns and fantastic line “Church ain’t over ‘til they put the snakes back in the bag!”; “Torrentially Cutshaw” with its classic ATDI guitar histrionics and odd utterances such as “2000...tastes of pure captigon” [sic]; and finale “Hostage Stamps” (the title itself an amusing pun) with its rallying cry of “Raise your nithing poles!” ATDI is such a thinking person’s rock band that one is compelled to go to a dictionary to decipher the lyrics. I learned a nithing pole is used for cursing an enemy in Germanic pagan tradition. Who knew? The whole track is a lyrical goldmine though, with the full chorus going:
“30 days spent in the hole
Raise yourself a nithing pole
Inoculated at the liquor store
Drunk on the piss of semaphore embers”
Make a lot of sense? Nope. Still utterly inspired genius? Damn straight. It has to be heard, but the intensity is off the scale, and it all works so perfectly. A great album should always end well, and you just can’t ask for a better ending than this song. I can’t ever hear it without my pulse racing and heart thudding, and it makes me want to jump around the room.
And so At the Drive-In is well and truly back in action. They are not and never will be The Mars Volta, but “in•ter a•li•a” may well be as close as I ever get again. I’ll gladly take it.
One-man black metal bands are by no means rare, but they don’t often achieve the polish, depth, and layering of Sun of the Sleepless. And don’t take “polish” the wrong way -- this isn’t overly clean or tidy black metal stripped of all its grit or emotion. Quite the contrary, in fact. Schwadorf, the man behind the project, delivers a full, rich and nuanced set of songs that never fail to be engaging.
A particularly effective aspect of the album is the use of vocals that could be described as monastic, which really add an epic feel. These are spread throughout the record, and Schwadorf truly has a fine voice. The gentle and soothing “Forest Crown” provides the best example, though these vocals’ addition as a stratum over “Motions” or “In the Realm of the Bark” is also quite successful, and somewhat resembles a technique used by Alcest. Still, musically we’re firmly in the realm of pagan black metal here, with suitably harsh vocals the majority of the time. The style is a bit Cascadian, but also utilizes some more rocking post-black metal elements, and atmospheric keyboard passages. “Where in My Childhood Lived a Witch,” though, goes for traditional heavy metal, stomping away like Grand Magus/Sons of Crom, with a very Nordic feel. Near its middle it sets a mood of anticipation, then explodes into blackened speed and a searing, glorious melody, all the while overlaid with angelic, haunting choral effects. Masterful stuff. “Phoenix Rise” makes for a sublime finale, again bringing some more traditional heavy metal into the fold and setting heads a-bangin’. But it also pours on black metal speed and atmosphere, sounding massive and imbued with majestic spirit. It is rounded off by those great monastic vocals again, and pierces the heavens with incredible power, riding toward the golden hall of Valhalla. Hard not to get goosebumps listening to this one.
In an overwhelming sea of black metal, Sun of the Sleepless has made a remarkably compelling record that not only rises to the surface, it rockets out of that onyx mass and leaves most behind. “To the Elements” is forceful yet refined, powerful yet sophisticated. Definitely an artist to watch.
https://sun-of-the-sleepless.bandcamp.com/album/to-the-elements
If there is any one country which is recently overflowing with a plethora of amazing metal artists, it’s Iceland. Go back ten years and who could name a band from the genre other than Sólstafir? Beyond that, the country was associated with alternative or avant-rock such Björk, Sigur Rós, or The Sugarcubes. Well that’s all changed.
Of the vast number of Icelandic metal bands, Dynfari stands out from the pack with this unique album. Musically it falls into the category of atmospheric black metal, but lyrically and thematically it has a whole other angle going. In fact, the band didn’t write a single lyric on here. Half the tracks use poems by Icelandic poet Jóhann Sigurjónsson, and the other half use excerpts from the novel “The Name of the Wind” by Patrick Rothfuss. It is these latter songs that also pertain most to the overall concept (for all I know the poems do so too, but they’re in Icelandic, obscuring things just a bit), as they detail the four doors referenced in the title. Those doors are Sleep, Forgetting, Madness, and Death. As you might glean, the album isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.
What it is, though, is expertly crafted and brilliantly delivered. We enter the first door with a lilting melody that is a bit melancholy but not without a sense of hope, before full-blown black metal speed and tremolo guitar flood the soundscape. It’s never especially harsh, but still fulfills the black metal aesthetic nicely. The tune then slows way down, and whiles away its remainder sounding pretty psychedelic. It’s the first example of the album showcasing its ability to lock into riffs and rhythms that repeat for some time and create a trancelike effect, while never growing dull. “Sorgarefni Segi eg þér” takes that approach to an even greater degree, starting again with black metal but spending better than half its time at a languid, hypnotic trudge. Dynfari takes a “less is more” approach here, shading in a definite Sólstafir style, and it works extremely well.
“2nd Door: Forgetting” employs a similar approach, but goes for bombast instead of lullaby, with enormous riffs that ring and buzz, endlessly bouncing around the room and inside your head. “Sorg,” which means sorrow, is an incredibly lovely acoustic track; for the listener it is also an exercise in absorbing the wondrous nuances of the Icelandic language. Fortunately lyrics are included in the booklet, so all you aspiring linguists can practice along with the speaker!
It’s evident by their names, but as we move through the doors, they grow darker and more desperate. “3rd Door: Madness” reflects this shift in describing how the mind “hides itself in insanity…when reality is nothing but pain.” More spectacularly, the music matches this disturbing turn with huge, crushing guitars, as the vocalist lets out agonized screams. A line about the mind’s turn to madness that states “while this may not seem beneficial, it is,” is spoken twice. The first is matter-of-fact, but the second is more intense, almost comically so. I don’t mean to dismiss its sincerity, but the way vocalist Jóhann Örn emphasizes “IT IS” cracks me up every time.
The final poem track is “Bikarinn,” which is brief and acoustic in nature, before we move into the epic “4th Door: Death.” Set up by the ominous line “Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told,” this sprawling song runs just shy of 14 minutes and almost sounds like a freeform jam the band might create live by stretching out a song originally one-third the length.
Every Icelandic metal band seems to offer a twist on their chosen subgenre’s formula, but “The Four Doors of the Mind” is something special indeed. The unified concept, the structure, and the expert songwriting all coalesce into a superb whole. While it depicts states of the mind, it also weaves its way wonderfully through the listener’s mind, sometimes nearly operating on a subconscious level. Open these doors, and enter.
https://dynfari.bandcamp.com/album/the-four-doors-of-the-mind
There was a lot of quality German black metal in 2017. In fact at several points throughout the year I was struck by the notion that it seemed to be The Year of German Black Metal. Albums from Heretoir, Nornír, Pestlegion, Rimruna, and Sarkrista all range from great to excellent. But this magnificent work by Dresden’s Nemesis Sopor rises above them all.
I’ll place this band in the subcategory of Cascadian black metal, despite them being from nowhere near Cascadia. But those defining characteristics of captivating tremolo melodies, a nature-based aesthetic, and mesmerizing atmosphere are all here in spades. Opener “Untertan” is a textbook example of the style, with riveting speed, gorgeous melody, and emotive dynamics all playing out over the course of its massive 15-minute running time. Any fan of Wolves in the Throne Room, especially their first two albums, should find much to love here. “Herrscher” changes the approach a bit, but its polyrhythmic attack is even more compelling and phenomenally atmospheric. The chord changes and shifts in cadence are so expertly wrought that they’re frequently breathtaking. “Despot” surprises with a suddenly higher level of ferocity, and a remarkable resemblance to Mayhem’s material from their groundbreaking “Grand Declaration of War.” It’s a standout track for how it differs from the others, and injects pleasing diversity into the affair. The title track re-establishes the Cascadian dominance in fine form, even as an instrumental, and “Atarax” continues it in superb fashion. Slower guitar parts alternate with intense blasting to create an epic, roiling hymn to Mother Nature’s fury. This deep into the album, it becomes abundantly clear how tight the musicianship is -- these guys are in lockstep and can turn on a dime. “Zeit der Sterne” makes for a restrained but apt finale, with its slower and more pensive tempo, yet it’s still chock-full of entrancing melody.
Nemesis Sopor isn’t precisely doing much new here, but they are doing it exceptionally well. Also there is something very subtle beneath the surface that does make “MMXL” distinct enough to tug at one’s interest and compel repeated listening. I was completely unaware of this band’s existence prior to this record, and they are most deserving of recognition. Black forests of Germany or gray forests of the Pacific Northwest -- location is clearly no barrier to tapping into the true spirit of enthralling pagan metal.
This Danish band has changed remarkably in a short period. Their “Ildsvanger” debut from 2015 is surprisingly raw black metal, and seems all the more so when compared to the “Beautiful and Damned” EP that would follow only a couple months later. The evolution they would soon undergo peeks its head out there, but “Domus Mysterium” finds them growing into something special.
Essentially this record sounds like the last Tribulation record, but with more black metal. And if you’re anything like me, that’s a pretty damn good place to be. This retro occult rock thing, with distinct elements of gothic new wave, is all the rage now. Cloak is another band doing it and they put out a great album in 2017 too, but the boys in Slægt are totally locked into the groove. They don’t just pull off the sound brilliantly, they infuse it with gobs of glorious heavy fucking metal. And damn can they play. But when I say “boys” I’m only being partly facetious. In the band photo, none of them look a day over 18. Whether that’s actually the case I have no idea, but they clearly haven’t seen too many years. That makes the music herein all the more astonishing, because this shit is crazy tight.
After an intro track, “I Smell Blood” is nothing short of a rager, thrashy and punchy and relentless. Guitarists Oskar Frederiksen and Anders Jorgensen are not at all afraid to go nuts on solos; in fact, the unabashed shredding is largely what makes some of these songs so damn metal. The second solo (of four!) in this track bears a strong resemblance to that of Metallica’s “Hit the Lights” (incidentally my favorite song of theirs back in the day). “Egovore” is a bit more of a smoldering tune, which is odd to say since it doesn’t lack for speed, but there’s more eloquence there, more dark mystery beneath the surface. And it’s definitely more dynamic, subsiding into a slow, languid section at one point before methodically ramping back up to speed. There’s more black metal here in the tremolo picking, yet it’s still drenched in pure heavy metal.
“The Eye of the Devil” is essentially an instrumental once it moves past a spoken word intro, and has Tribulation written all over it. A very cool track with still more stellar musicianship, but a tad long at nearly seven and a half minutes. “The Tower” has roughly the same running time, but for me was the grower of the album. I liked it well enough at first, but as I peeled away the layers I realized it’s truly excellent. It takes its time in building, and the first third of it has passed before it really kicks into gear, but the energy is fantastic once it does. The high point is when, following more expert guitar noodling, drummer Adam Nielsen shows his talents, and they are jaw-dropping. He’s throwing in rapid-fire fills all over the damn place, then keeps doing them while unleashing a battery of double bass. Stunning work.
For as great as the album has been up to this point, it’s nothing compared to the brilliance saved for the last two tracks. After an interesting piano/guitar instrumental entitled “Burning Feathers,” we’re launched headlong into “Remember It’s a Nightmare.” And holy shit does the pedal hit the floor, the percussive beating delivered in tandem with furious trem picking flying up and down the scale. But then Frederiksen and Jorgensen deal out a melodic onslaught almost too great to bear, their axes working in dual harmony to shock and amaze. Oh the heavy metal splendor! It strongly reminds me of passages from Algaion’s classic “General Enmity,” one of my favorite records of all time. Absurdly good. Lurking within the hefty 13+ minutes of the title track and finale are more such gleaming gems. Again I hear some classic early Metallica here in the galloping rhythm, but the guitar work is just otherworldly. The song eases off the gas in the closing section, but exudes total class through its Thin Lizzy-styled finale.
Through impressive songwriting, astounding musicianship, and pure metallic essence, “Domus Mysterium” succeeds on every level. The fact that Slægt is operating at this capacity this early in their career is honestly a little terrifying. It’s hard to imagine where they go from here, but I cannot wait to find out.
And 2017’s Heavy Metal Doom Award goes to...Spirit Adrift. For three years running, a band has arisen to claim this throne. First it was Pallbearer, last year it was Khemmis, and now we have these crushers from Arizona. And while they don’t surpass the almighty Khemmis, “Curse of Conception” is a serious slab of doomed metallic greatness.
Notably, this band is a project of two members of badass death metallers Gatecreeper. Spirit Adrift, however, plies a whole different trade. This stuff is pure, unfettered, classic motherfucking DOOM metal with clean vocals. And those vocals showcase a strong kinship with Karl Agell’s from the Corrosion of Conformity album “Blind,” a record near and dear to my heart. So on first listen those vocals seemed a bit curious, but it wasn’t long before I was adoring them.
While Spirit Adrift throws down doom riffs galore, and very closely walks the line that Khemmis and Pallbearer walked on previous albums, where they excel is in unabashedly heavy metal guitar licks. Khemmis did the same on their genius “Hunted,” and arguably to even better effect, but “Curse of Conception” is a classic metal fan’s paradise. Soulful guitar solos abound, pure and clean and tapping right into the very soul of metal. Opening track “Earthbound” could easily be a Pallbearer song, but when the title track’s guitar solo hits, it sounds lifted straight out of late-’80s Metallica. “Starless Age (Enshrined)” is practically dripping with classic metal, again sounding a whole lot like Metallica, and here especially the Karl Agell impression in the vocals is just spot-on. Love it. This track also sets aside the doom plod and rips through some mid-tempo headbanging fodder in its latter moments, with melodic breaks that are insanely delicious. Almost as if inspired by its predecessor, next track “Graveside Invocation” also rocks like hell, and is easily the most raucous tune here, not to mention utterly ass-kicking.
“Spectral Savior” sees a return to a doomed pace, though it also surprisingly hits a very upbeat tone later, fully embracing major chords and positively beaming. Normally this kind of shift would leave me irritated because I’m a crabby, morbid bastard that likes my music dark and depressing, but so masterful is this band that even this section I find irresistible. Somehow they pull off that transition with total aplomb, and they even have the balls to end the track this way. Instrumental “Wakien” gives a brief nod to Led Zeppelin, then powers into what may be the best traditional metal riffs on the entire album, and that’s saying a lot in the context of these songs. SO. FUCKING. METAL. But in the end, “Curse…” is a doom record at heart, and it plays its mightiest doom card last with the shuddering behemoth “Onward, Inward.” The track simply crushes and grinds everything beneath it to powder. That is, until it too sails off into the horizon on cheery major chords. Takes a lot of confidence to do that.
“Curse of Conception” showcases songwriting talents that put many bands to shame, and dips deep into the well of iconic heavy metal as it does so. I cannot fathom how any fan of true metal could listen to this record and not be completely delighted by it. It has me nearly frothing with glee at every spin, and that kind of pure joy is a pleasure unto itself.
Elder is magical. It’s just that simple. Their previous album “Lore” was one of the best albums of 2015, and also served as my introduction to the band. But “Reflections of a Floating World” is on another level.
From the opening chord of “Sanctuary,” one is dropped into a universe that is both smotheringly heavy and beautifully psychedelic. Utilizing a production not unlike Kyuss on “Welcome to Sky Valley,” the sound here is massive, airtight, and impenetrable.The shuddering rhythmic anchor of bassist Jack Donovan and drummer Matthew Couto is a constant backdrop to the technical wizardry that skitters across its surface. Nicholas DiSalvo’s guitar melodies seem effortless yet are incredible, delighting the eardrums in the masterful “The Falling Veil.” Just as with “Lore,” Earthless comparisons come to mind, but there’s more soul here. It’s never technical for the sake of being technical; rather the melodies just flow out like a stream of manna from the heavens. One change from prior work, though, is that the keyboards (also courtesy of DiSalvo) are much more prominent. And oh, what wonder they bring. It took me a while to pin down why they sound familiar, until I finally realized they sound a whole lot like those used in mid-period Opeth songs. I’m referring to the time period where Mikael Akerfeldt’s ‘70s prog obsession started to factor heavily in the band’s material, but they still retained their death metal sensibility, and the results were stellar. So really the spacey, ethereal keyboards employed by Elder here are a lot less about Opeth and a lot more about those ‘70s influences, which makes sense. In any event, they glimmer like the surface of water in the sun, and are just as dazzling. “Staving Off Truth” features the keys prominently, and they are nothing short of sublime, floating like sparkling mist one moment and shining against the fortress of crushing riffs the next.
“Blind” brings a change in tone and is darker than the preceding tracks, but may well be my favorite song here, if I had to choose one. It is monstrously heavy, with a couple sections in particular that rumble with astonishing power, though its final moments are a total prog-rock jamfest. “Sonntag” is the only instrumental, and perhaps for the very reason that it lacks vocals, it seems a little detached from the overall theme of the record. It comes off as more prog-for-prog’s-sake. A solid tune, but the weakest compared to the rest. Certainly it’s no match for the raucous finisher “Thousand Hands,” with its punchy drumming and squawking guitars. It finds its way to gentler psych passages, but near the end it is racing at a relatively frantic pace, DiSalvo ripping through guitar solos, before it fades out on a buzzing hum of tasty bass.
“Reflections of a Floating World” is achingly wonderful. It sounds so good that it almost hurts, and I stand in total awe of this band. Elder has crafted a staggering masterpiece of psychedelic rock that is a lovely homage to what came before, but never once sounds insincere or like an imitator. It is an intellectual’s stoner rock, a titanic force of riffs and artistry operating on a plane few bands have the ability to reach.
https://beholdtheelder.bandcamp.com/album/reflections-of-a-floating-world
Holy. Fuck. Blackened sludge master Hell has been operating for nearly ten years now, and is a purveyor of punishing doom. I saw the live band a few years ago and they were mindblowing, switching between blanketing the room in sonic muck and conjuring black metal bliss. But this -- this hallowed recording -- this is something else.
When the first chord strikes a few seconds into “Helmzmen,” it rattles your walls. And your bones, down to the very marrow. Shuddering, rumbling, low end the likes of which few bands have the ability to summon creeps forth like viscous black ichor. And the vocals are a fiery, acidic menace that sandblast the mind and soul. As one is reeling from the heaviness, trying to even comprehend it, it actually INTENSIFIES, with a sludge riff breakdown almost too terribly gorgeous to bear. I’ve said many times that Electric Wizard’s “Dopethrone” is the heaviest recording ever, and the first Monolord album poses a serious challenge, but Hell has thrown down the gauntlet. This record quite possibly surpasses the both of them, and the sheer magnitude of it will leave you breathless.
Oh, and it gets better. Two tracks here, “SubOdin” and “Inscriptus” are actually not new, having been released on a 7” in 2015, then compiled on the 2016 “MMXVI” CD boxed set. But never mind that, because they fit perfectly here and sound incredible. “SubOdin,” especially, is a highlight, bringing more of the album’s most bonecrushing riffs. The shriek that rends the air after the song’s intro is delightfully horrifying, but pales slightly compared to the ear-splitting, demonically possessed banshee wail that follows later. It is not of this world. “Machitikos” is practically light-hearted by comparison, though still a grinding juggernaut of course. My favorite aspect is that it kind of oddly ROCKS, especially the way the drummer rides the hi-hat. There’s an amusing rock sensibility about it.
“WanderingSoul” and “Inscriptus” are both great in their own right, particularly the brutal groove of the former, but “Victus” is a truly standout track. Trudging through about 12 and a half minutes, it contains more of the album’s ghastly shrieks. Even more noteworthy, however, is that it holds probably THE heaviest moment of the record, after lulling you into a haze with a slow build and then a quiet, atmospheric section of just guitar and violin. When the riffs hit, they’re a sonic earthquake that overwhelm the Richter scale, drawing it and everything else into a gaping chasm, a lightless abyss where there is only the crushing weight of DOOM.
Surprisingly, the album ends not by obliterating you with some pulverizing crescendo, but with dark, gentle beauty. “Seelenos” features no lyrics other than a recitation of Emily Dickinson’s brilliant poem “I felt a Funeral, in my Brain.” It’s a fantastic way to close, very bleak and fitting for the album, and maybe Hell realized that one more song at the level of the others would drive most humans into gurgling, numb madness. So really it was an act of mercy.
Hell has now titled three of its releases eponymously. Prior to this one, the 2015 EP and 2009 full-length debut also were simply titled “Hell.” Maybe that’s because Matthew Williams, the man behind the band (hard to believe a single soul can create something so colossal), believes in the simple power of that word. It aptly describes this work of demented, bombastic, and frankly terrifying genius.
Well this one was a surprise, to put it mildly. From their creation of iconic pagan black metal in the mid-1990s (which legions of bands would later follow); to writing one of the most vicious, feral, lo-fi necro black metal albums ever; to their inclusion of electronica which would later veer into pure ambient, Ulver has had a varied career to say the least. I lost touch with them (rather intentionally, in all honesty), and even when they started writing “real” songs again in the mid-2000s, I just did not get it. A few years ago, in advance of their planned performance at Maryland Deathfest (which they sadly later cancelled), I suddenly realized that the moody, experimental, ambient rock of their “Shadows of the Sun” recording is actually quite excellent, and thus reconnected with them a bit. And so it was with an open mind that I chanced upon and purchased a used copy of this latest album.
What I found inside delighted me instantly. In a small sense, Ulver has regained the feeling of their classic “Themes from William Blake’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.” And yet that comparison is a stretch. No, Ulver has not gone back to metal. Not at all. But there is a bewitching combination of throbbing dance beats and melancholy darkness that I have not heard from the band in nearly 20 years. “Nemoralia” immediately hits a thumping groove, and its silky chorus is sublime, while the lyrics depicting Emperor Nero’s burning of Christians in his garden are a macabre foil. Likewise, “Rolling Stone” pulses and pounds its way across the dance floor, yet the chorus of “Poor little sister, I hope you understand, the babe in the woods will be taken by a wolf” is distinctly ominous. Female vocals contributed here by Rikke Normann and Sisi Sumbundu provide enchanting, soulful texture. The initial trilogy of songs is completed by “So Falls the World,” the most brooding and gloomy tune to this point, yet even it morphs into an oscillating, danceable beatfest that reminds me of a Depeche Mode remix from their “X1” compilation. The final notes of “Coming Home” sound even more distinctly like one of those remixes. I’ve always loved those transmogrified songs (some of which surpass the originals) so this homage, whether perceived or intentional, is total ear candy to me.
“Southern Gothic” delivers a significant stylistic shift with its upbeat tone, and especially bouncy, sunny chorus. I was uncertain of this track at first, but its pure, gaudy ‘80s quality soon won me over. At moments it sounds lifted directly from any number of hit radio songs of that decade. “Angelus Novus” soon pulls a gray shroud back over the proceedings, but is truly lovely in its somber tone, with Kristoffer Rygg’s always-superb vocals carrying the lyrics to great heights. But no other track is so completely spellbinding as the wondrous “Transverberation.” The bass is massive, vibrating not just your speakers but the entire room, and the ‘80s keyboards that punctuate the chorus are outright perfection. More than any other track, this one absolutely embodies this record’s uncanny ability to fuse gorgeous melancholy with compelling beats.
In addition to all the great music, there are other aspects that make the total package somewhat mysterious and intriguing. For example, a preoccupation with dates. The first page of the CD booklet contains the date March 15, 44 BC, which is of course the Ides of March, or the day Julius Caesar was assassinated. But other tracks mention specific dates as well, and one track even bears a title of “1969.” Also, the black-and-white photography and artwork, one piece to match each song, is rendered with a pleasing sort of golden patina that subtly advances these fitting visuals.
“The Assassination…” proves that Ulver still has incredible songwriting skills, and when they are on point, they utterly nail it. Somehow, in 2017, they made one of the greatest 1980s new wave dance albums ever. Fucking brilliant.
https://ulver.bandcamp.com/album/the-assassination-of-julius-caesar
The journey on the path to great music is often unpredictable. There’s a fair amount of right-place, right-time luck or fate that occurs to introduce one to some new aural wonder. And so it was that I spotted a post by the Psycho music festival, which I will be attending for the second year in a row, linking to the debut full-length by Dvne, a band of which I had zero awareness at that point. The festival hadn’t even announced their lineup yet. But the album title and cover art immediately intrigued me, and so it began…
Dvne hail from Edinburgh, Scotland. At first, the overwhelming influence here is clearly early to middle Mastodon, but like all truly great albums, after a while the source from which the music seems to be derived fades, becomes irrelevant, to be replaced by a signature stamp. You can make those comparisons, but really Dvne just sounds like Dvne. Still, the opening bass line of “The Crimson Path” is pure Tool, and its driving force sets the stage for a track that is diverse and lushly layered. The melody that follows is of a seductive, Middle Eastern variety, which reminds of Australian psych-sludgers Alchemist. Harsh vocals, clean vocals, progressive passages, and neck-snapping sludge rock take turns during the whole of the song, swirling together yet maintaining clean separation in a sensational display of musical prowess. In the final 90 seconds, the guitar melodies burst into fireworks, urgent and intense, yet so beautiful and transcendent at the same time. And it all comes back around to that slammin’ bass line, after which a few more riffs are bashed out to complete the song.
It’s more than fair to be reeling from this fiery first tune, and the band does cool things down for “Viridian Bloom,” at least initially. It has a great sense of longing, but it still packs a punch on the chorus, and later shifts down into rocking groove. Again there are dashes of Alchemist here, and like “The Crimson Path,” it’s an intoxicating mixture of prog and sludge. “Thirst” takes no prisoners and blasts off the starting block like a greyhound on meth, then blows out the walls with a killer melodic breakdown. When it chills out farther along in the track, the melodies are high and lovely, arching wistfully toward a distant light. Then it ramps the intensity back up, but differently this time, pounding out a riff-fest to a sudden, dramatic conclusion. “Descent of the Asheran” is in line with “Viridian Bloom,” filled with a pensive yearning at first, then doling out progressive melodies and time changes that are dazzling yet so, so engaging. At its crescendo it becomes legitimately crushing, birthing some the album’s heaviest riffs. “Sunsets Grace” is the sole instrumental of the album, but it also stands alone as offering the moments of gentlest beauty. The main melody, which starts the track but is oft repeated, is delicate and melancholy, yet morphs into something far more powerful by the end.
Identifying a favorite track in an album of this caliber isn’t always easy, but “Rite of Seven Mournings” is definitely the song I love most dearly. Its heaviness is massive, but there’s this incredible emotional urgency behind it. The riffs resonate in my soul, especially the ones just prior to the closing passage, which would hum and echo for eternity if they were allowed to do so. They are pure perfection.
There’s some Anathema in the opening strains of “Edenfall,” which give way to an attack of jagged, fuzzy riffs. The vocals in the last verse are beyond incredible, adding in a guest appearance by Jenni Sneddon, and again I hear Anathema in the way the harmonies come together. It’s a moment capable of inciting chills. And there’s even more of that to come as we enter the final track, the mighty “Scion,” which is nothing short of a masterpiece. A thudding, circular rhythm starts us off, with call-and-response clean vs. harsh vocals, and the riffs are enormous. The guitar melodies that ensue are phenomenal, and feel effortlessly light while still bearing weight. But by far, the track’s finale is the highlight, and is fully godlike. It builds slowly, with ethereal melody, then becomes a pulsing, urgent force hammering its way through your consciousness and transporting you to another realm. Meanwhile the clean vocals are layered over one another, creating a mesmerizing effect. It is fucking exquisite.
“Asheran” is simply amazing. There is so much FEELING in the playing, but also crazy degrees of technical talent. It’s almost deceptively simple on the surface, yet within its depths it contains a heartfelt earnestness and complexity that are undeniable. After what are surely hundreds of listens, I still find myself in total awe of this record, and possibly unlocking new levels of awe. Maybe that’s the hallmark of true greatness -- the ability to both instantly delight, but elude at the same time. To be oh so familiar, and yet somehow tantalizingly out of reach, always leaving the door open to another plane of enlightenment. I urge you to strive for that enlightenment, and let Dvne lead the way.