Över, an international partnership between musicians from the UK and Ecuador, appeared on the scene out of nowhere in 2018. No demo, no EP, no warning, just a full slab o’ songs plunked down on the unsuspecting metal world. Funny how a band can do that these days, Internet promotion being what it is. And yet they also managed to get signed to one of the longest-running and most reputable labels around: Avantgarde.

Well it isn’t difficult to see what Avantgarde saw in them, as the album takes all of 90 seconds to become dazzling. Opener “Philosophy (Supposed Truth)” is at once doomy, atmospheric, melodic, and above all, mesmerizing. Huge chords are backed by eerie, swelling synths, and cut through with an excellent but relatively slow tremolo-picked melody. The combination of all these factors is nothing short of magical. “Freedom of Paradigms” takes a somewhat different approach, using some major chords that feel much lighter, but alternating them with passages slightly more aggressive and darker in tone. The soundstage still feels very large, making it apparent that the warm, powerful production plays a key role here.

While it is by no means a typical one, Facing Transcendence is a black metal album, and “Freedom of Paradigms” makes this statement as it settles into the first fast-paced section of the record. The vocals are most certainly blackened, high and caustic, a nice foil to the thick production. “Will” goes full black from the start and is the meanest-sounding track yet, while still tempered by those ethereal keyboards. Transitioning into the second half of the album, “Över Is Transcendence” is very much synth-driven, that is until gigantic guitar riffs that feel more like a living, seething beast than musical notes enter, swinging on a pendulum. Chaotic and mechanical, they resemble industrial metal pioneers such as Godflesh, positively massive in scope until they fall back, replaced by buzzsaw guitars that then disintegrate into nothingness and leave only twisted monastic chanting. It’s a hell of a conclusion, and probably the most dramatic of the album.

It also sets the stage for “Owner and Slave,” easily the standout song here. The riffs are enormous, and -- delivered in an alternating pattern with a tremolo melody -- nothing short of fucking lethal. This track is a total crusher, a colossus relentlessly stamping its way toward the abyss. The destruction subsides just long enough for the bright and cheery spoken line, “It’s the moment to open your veins,” followed by an airy passage and a guitar solo that grows ever more frenetic, before drums come roaring back in and the vocalist unleashes a scream that goes on and on and seems like it will never end. It’s a serious physical feat to sustain it for that long. As the tune finally fades, furious tremolo picking is spinning a hypnotic web that carries the track out to its abrupt conclusion. Such an incredible song. But we aren’t out yet, and “End of the Oppressive” unleashes a battery of viscous guitar riffs and pummeling percussion. This track has the smarts to just plain rock out, with interesting and tricky rhythmic shifts that keep you on your toes. It slows to a relative crawl near the end, ultimately sounding like the master tape simply ground to a halt, pulling everything into a morass of finality.

“Facing Transcendence” is itself transcendent, moving beyond atmospheric black metal tropes and stale, predictable songwriting. It doesn’t do anything wildly experimental, yet its elements are crafted together in a delightfully refreshing and compelling way. This band may vanish just as simply as it appeared, but I sure hope not. The world needs more Över.

https://avantgardemusic.bandcamp.com/album/facing-transcendence

Now this is a breath of fresh air. Germany’s Chapel of Disease have been simply described as “death metal,” but rarely has there been such a woefully inadequate categorization. On this, their third album, they challenge what death metal -- or heavy music in general -- can be.

“Void of Words” starts deathy enough, I suppose, but there are pretty obvious progressive touches to it, much in the way that Horrendous is far from just another death metal band. If you think that stuff is unconventional, you ain’t heard nothin’ yet. Still, as this first track gets going and the raspy death vocals enter, there isn’t anything crazy happening. Then before even hitting the two-minute mark, there’s a wild guitar bridge that’s proggy and bluesy, not to mention impressively played. A passing phase? A brief fluke? Hardly, as it happens again after the next verse, this time even more proggy, bluesy as hell, and frankly astonishing. Now it’s becoming clear that this isn’t the exception, it’s the norm, and we aren’t in death metal land anymore, Toto. We never were.

As this first song continues, it just keeps giving up the goods. It moves into a classy and and somewhat languid guitar solo, slides into tremolo, then slows to a lazy pace with semi-funky bass. Guitar at this section is gentle, soothing, but a preface to a quickened pace, and when the next guitar solo hits, it’s pure fireworks. The quick picking and the purity of the notes are just insane, and by the gods is it soulful. And it also seems comforting and familiar, like an old Eagles song, except in this version The Eagles did numerous lines of cocaine (alright, they did that in their version too) and someone lit their asses on fire.

Without batting an eye, “Void of Words” seamlessly segues into “Oblivious -- Obnoxious -- Defiant,” another incredibly strong tune. While it doesn’t have the histrionics and jaw-dropping showmanship of its predecessor, it’s crazily addictive and catchy, with a chorus that mandates singing along. Definitely more of a death metal song, but giving off a retro vibe along the lines of recent Tribulation and Cloak.

“Song of the Gods” has a slow and enticing build, and becomes fast and memorable, the the thudding tempo propelling it forward. Once again the guitar soloing is just off the charts, leaving flames in its wake. With “1,000 Different Paths” we get the only clean vocals of the album, and they’re echoey and a little goth. The musical approach matches them well, as it’s simpler and more relaxed, but Cedric Teubl is no less imposing in his axe work. “The Sound of Shallow Grey” takes the energy level back up, touching upon a definitive ‘80s goth bass line, before become frantic and flailing, then rounding out with more incredible guitar work. This one would be smoking hot in a live setting.

Chapel of Disease creates a boggling concoction of retro rock, blues, progressive, and modern metal. ...And As We Have Seen the Storm... sounds as if Opeth took their obsession with ‘70s prog and channeled it into something actually good. The musicianship is beyond amazing, the playing is ultra tight, and the creativity is a wonder to behold.

https://chapelofdisease.bandcamp.com/album/and-as-we-have-seen-the-storm-we-have-embraced-the-eye

I’ve been making these lists for 22 years, and there’s always been an unwritten rule that EPs aren’t allowed. When I’m sifting through a mountain of worthwhile albums and being ruthless about what qualifies as the best, an EP is never really in contention because it brings 15, 20, maybe 25 minutes max to the party, while full albums are double that or more. It’s sort of an instant disqualifier, but I’ve always left room for the possibility that some EP might come along that is so potent, so undeniable, that it would claim a spot. That day has arrived, courtesy of Tvær.

On a technical note, Old Gods Whom Chaos Knew contains a hidden fourth track, a reworking of “MDCCCLXXXVIII,” a song which made up the entirety of the band’s demo. With it, the running time here is over 32 minutes -- longer than Reign in Blood. That makes it a full-length, though it’s a bit of a cheat, but such quibbles are wiped away by the sheer enormity of the quality on offer.

Tvær play a style of breathtaking black metal in the vein of Drudkh, Mgła, and Uada. The guitar melodies are intense and hypnotic, and they’re paired with unhinged vocals that are often more lunatic shriek than anything else. That’s a very good thing in my book.

“Waldeinsamkeit” leads with a deceptively gentle 90-second intro, and when it attacks it does so with every razor-sharp blade in its arsenal. It is pure Drudkh, a maelstrom of tantalizing tremolo riffing and mesmerizing melody. “Night in the Forest” has some Agalloch about it, particularly in its slow and atmospheric build. Even after it drops the hammer and launches into full speed, it is the most subtle track here, with the evocative melodies interwoven and twisting around one another slightly beneath the surface. “Summoning of the Old Ones” is the supreme lord of the entire affair, with melodies that move from remarkable to stunning to jaw-dropping. Its crescendo comes when a melody, that is already fully spellbinding and moving at breakneck speed, is suddenly delivered in dual guitar harmony. In this moment Tvær is the Iron Maiden of black metal, and that’s just about the greatest concept ever.

As for the aforementioned “MDCCCLXXXVIII,” it’s no slouch either. Over its nearly ten-minute running time, it is highly dynamic, switching between frenzied black metal and acoustic passages with ease. The band ought to already be signed to a label, based upon the strength of this song alone.

Tvær is yet another band hailing from Minneapolis, a city whose contribution of raw talent to the metal scene is starting to reach ludicrous levels. Seems like more phenomenal bands appear on the radar every year, and among this cornucopia of greatness, Tvær is standing tall and setting the bar shockingly high. If this is what they can do with an EP, I can’t wait to see what they do with a full album. Here’s hoping we get the chance to see.

https://tvaer.bandcamp.com/album/old-gods-whom-chaos-knew

Two years ago, I strongly considered Marsh Dweller’s first album, The Weight of Sunlight, for my best-of list. Its Obsequiae-like approach to black metal is a delight, but it fell just short. Ironic, then, that Wanderer should accomplish the feat. Why ironic? Well, because Marsh Dweller has changed. A lot.

The album is divided into the four parts of the song “Wander,” with two other songs bisecting those four as an intermission of sorts. “Wander I” immediately had me utterly baffled as Isis-like pummeling groove came galloping out of the speakers. It was good -- very good -- but that was initially hard to recognize due to my massive confusion over the band’s stylistic shift. At close to two minutes in we get a bridge that’s almost thrashy in nature, with a spastic breakdown/beatdown that’s pretty amazing. Around three minutes the throttle is opened up and the first black metal rhythm emerges. Melodies begin to dance around it, walking a fascinating line between Isis and traditional black metal tremolo riffing. Then by five minutes it goes full black, or at least full post-black, with a spellbinding, sorrowful trem line that hearkens Alcest. And then just like that we’re back to Isis again, with that haunting melody line returning over the top.

“Wander II” continues the overall trend as it begins a journey that will clock in at an enormous 17:24. It chugs and grinds through atmospheric sludge riffs, delivers rocking intensity, and is graced by more high tremolo work rising above the fray. Its tail section is a mesmerizing melange of doom riffs with tremolo melodies spiraling up and down repeatedly, building and building, the pace becoming frenetic. This wall of noise suddenly opens into a clearing of basic guitar chords and drums backed by synths that seem like they must have been there the whole time, but are only revealed when the curtain of all the other sound is parted. The result is simplistic in nature, yet fully beguiling.

“Coalesce” is very much an effective detour as we enter the middle of the album, as it has a much lighter tone that sounds a bit like Gods Tower minus the warbling guitar. Its seamless transition into “Fall” is excellent, with this next track going full-on Isis again. That is, until it subsides into waves of ambient that feel portentous and transitional.

"Wander III” is the second-longest track here, at a still-hefty 11:31, with an initially languid approach that feels more like certain facets of Agalloch, or even gothic doom metal. There are even the requisite airy female vocals, though they are much more akin to those used by Alcest than, say, My Dying Bride. Then, with about two-thirds of the track spent in this introspective melancholy, it becomes relatively driving and aggressive. The magic, however, comes from the melody line that seesaws its way through the song. Finally, all the sludge and post-metal qualities fall away and the song gives into unabated black metal akin to Panopticon, the first, last, and only such example on display across the entire album. It’s highly effective and all the more precious for its scarcity. With “Wander IV” being purely instrumental, ambient in style, and the album’s shortest track, “Wander III” serves as the effective climax of the record. I’d have preferred the album end with it, as part IV seems almost like a throwaway afterward. Still, it is the only weak point on an otherwise brilliant record.

Wanderer is an odd fusion of styles, but the expert mash-up of those styles is exactly what makes is so compelling and refreshing. It trudges through bogs of heaviness but emerges onto dry land in between and shakes off that muck, becoming gleaming and ethereal. While an arguably bizarre departure to any ears that have known Marsh Dweller previously, it ultimately proves itself and holds up well after many listens.

https://eihwazrecordings.bandcamp.com/album/marsh-dweller-wanderer

Aorlhac is a French black metal band with a couple albums and a split to their name prior to this record, going back to 2008. They’d been languishing in the underground (and let’s be honest, they still are) but 2018 found them landing on an excellent label that I follow called Les Acteurs de l’Ombre. And I’m thrilled by the resulting discovery.

So what can be found within? Riffs! Hooks! More riffs! More hooks! While Aorlhac is frequently flailing away at majestic, atmospheric black metal driven by superb tremolo melodies, there is something that sets them apart: pure, glorious, heavy metal roots. Their ability to mix in traditional metal elements is remarkable to say the least. At one moment the hypnotic blackness is washing over you, and then suddenly the next moment is supremely head-bangable.

Witness the early part of opener “Aldérica,” which hits a bridge that segues into serious rock ‘n’ roll licks. The opening chords of “La Revolte des Tuchins” sound like they were lifted from an early Amorphis album, while the hefty “Infâme Saurimonde” is a black metal saga. Just prior to the 5:30 mark it goes medieval and folky as fuck, which proves to be a setup for easily the greatest melodic blitz of the entire record. There’s a quick drum roll to signal its arrival, and it roars forward with insane, neck-snapping power. Any fan of melodic black metal ought to fall to his or her knees in worship of this perfect moment; it just doesn’t get any better.

“Ode à la Croix Cléchée” is positively swimming in Amorphis-isms, and it works brilliantly. It’s like Elegy or Tales From the Thousand Lakes ended up in a blender with shredding black metal. “Mandrin l'Enfant Perdu” is surprisingly vicious in its opening salvo, setting aside the atmosphere for a bit and taking on a vibe more akin to Mayhem. After resuming a relatively lighter touch, its latter section finds it going full Iron Maiden! I mean it -- I’m talking straight-up dual guitar harmony as if Dave Murray and Adrian Smith popped in for a cameo, replete with some bluesy guitar soloing. You won’t be able to readily point to that in another black metal album.

The greatest testament to the quality of this record is that I never seem to tire of it. It went into regular evening rotation at one point where it received spin after spin after spin, and yet listening to it again, it sounds as fresh and vital as ever. Its use of traditional metal melodies to bolster its blackened fabric isn’t what I can call revolutionary, but it’s pulled off with such flair that it’s utterly irresistible.

https://ladlo.bandcamp.com/album/lesprit-des-vents

Another year has brought us more excellent German black metal, and this time Nemus has emerged at the front of the pack. A “band” (i.e. yet another solo artist) only in its infancy, having formed in 2017, this is already its second album. I’ve yet to hear the first, but such quality at such an early stage is impressive.

With the first album called Wald-Mensch (Woods-Man), we now have See-Mensch (Sea-Man). Clearly there’s a theme here. Since my ninth-grade German is not quite up to the task of deciphering all the German lyrics, I’ve no bloody idea what these songs are about other than, well, a man that lives in the sea (actually a lake, according to the Bandcamp page). And it’s safe to assume it’s a concept album. It might be nice to know the full story, but my ignorance doesn’t hamper the enjoyment of this top-notch material.

The “post-black metal” term can be applied here I suppose, partly because this isn’t all darkness and Satan, but let’s be clear -- this isn’t Deafheaven-styled stuff or emo or blackgaze, nor is there a single clean vocal to be found. This album can be eloquent, but it also rips hard with double-bass attacks and mean tremolo riffing. “In Die Tiefe” is driving and powerful, but displays rock ‘n’ roll sensibility in the percussion. It also goes seriously Agallochian on a few riffs. “Das Ungetum” is purest black metal ecstasy, melodies spiraling and whirling with frenetic intensity. “Blut und Schuppen” is along the same lines, a total assault from the first moment, but settling into progressive melody lines later that again bear a strong resemblance to Agalloch. Both nearly pale in comparison to the magnificent “Schwimme Ewig,” though, which hits so hard with a gorgeous trem melody from the outset that it seems like it may burst at the seams. Then it has the balls to pull off a similar feat again near the end, the melody perhaps even more epic and profound.

“Tiefengesang” represents a break in the action, taking a mid-tempo approach with still more Agalloch leanings, or even a little Katatonia. That is, until it explodes into rapid-fire drumming and more melodic artistry. And finally, “Nachts im Teich” ends on the same incredibly high quality level, laying down a foundation at a mild tempo before -- you guessed it -- pure melodic fury.

With one glorious melodic passage after another, See-Mensch is an overabundance of riches. But there’s also a passion and a sincerity to it that elevates it above other albums in the genre, great as they may be. Spin after spin, this record delivers black metal of the highest caliber, tapping into something deeper than most. Presumably we can expect Wind-Man, Fire-Man, or Earth-Man next -- I really don’t care as long as Nemus keeps pumping out music this outstanding.

https://nemus-offical.bandcamp.com

I stumbled across Alastor -- and to be clear, this is the Swedish one, not one of the other eight(!) past or present Alastors found on metal-archives.com -- with their first EP in 2017. It’s good, especially the title track, but it in no way prepared me for how amazing Slave to the Grave would prove to be. The maturity and growth of this band in a year is astonishing.

Simply put, they now sound like a mish-mash of the best psychedelic stoner doom bands around. Primarily, Electric Wizard and Salem’s Pot. They have ‘Wizard’s hefty song length, thick riffs, and druggy haze, while incorporating Salem’s Pot’s groove, rock smarts, and trippier vocal style. So yeah, they’re not blowing the doors off with originality, but the effortlessness with which these songs come together and progress makes them special in their own right.

“Your Lives Are Worthless” is as lyrically grim as its riffs are powerful, and “Drawn to the Abyss” channels the father of doom himself, Tony Iommi. Meanwhile some psychedelic keyboard lines are poured on for the full retro treatment. “N.W 588” does its best “War Pigs” impression with the air raid siren at its start, but then shows itself to be the utmost rocker of the bunch. A quick tempo and catchy hooks make foot tapping essential.

Had this entire record been like the songs mentioned thus far, it would have been solid and highly enjoyable, but I’m not convinced it would have made it to this list. No, it does that via the incredible bravery and diversity it displays in the next song, simply titled “Gone.” Alastor wrote an acoustic ballad, something I have heard no other modern band of this ilk do, with the possible exception of Windhand (and they aren’t quite in the same sub-sub-genre). And by the gods, what a ballad it is. The vocal harmony that results from pairing the female and male voices goes a long way to instilling the magic found here. More than that, the lyrics are stark, heartbreaking, cynical, and yet beautiful -- mainly due to this excerpted passage, which is repeated several times:

Was once born a blank page
So faultless and pure
But life is a sickness without any cure
My mind is forgiving
But I knew all along
Still one of the living but I won’t be for long

Words on a page cannot possibly do justice to how these lyrics actually sound when done with the aforementioned vocal harmony and backed by lilting acoustic guitar, but on every listen -- every single one -- this stunning track has shattered my mind and left me aghast at its power. As if all that weren’t enough, it contains two other delightful curiosities. One is a brief passage of whistling that follows the first two verses, and totally reminds me of Guns n’ Roses’ “Patience.” The other is the finale of the song which morphs into...surf rock?! It’s true. The tempo ascends to a hip-shaking pace and you expect Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon to come dancing down the beach. On the one hand it is so utterly bizarre, while on the other it absolutely works. It doesn’t substantially shift the tone, due to its still-melancholy nature, but it adds a ‘60s rock element that is completely unexpected. In short, it is bold and brilliant songwriting.

The title track is probably the most overtly Electric Wizard-sounding of the bunch, and it maintains the quality of the earlier tracks that are in the same vein. For the finale, however, Alastor blows out the stops and again elevates this album from great to genuinely extraordinary. They do it by summoning one of doom metal’s most iconic and sadly defunct bands: the mighty Reverend Bizarre. “The Spider of My Love” is a massive 17+ minutes in length, and it is pure Reverend through and through. The crawling pace, the thunderous riffs, the aching misery -- they’re all here. This track resurrects that hallowed band’s style and approach in a way I never thought I’d hear again, and it is fucking glorious.

Listening to Slave to the Grave leaves you spent and a little bewildered. It’s so simple on the surface, yet incredibly daring in some of its choices. While Electric Wizard and Salem’s Pot are clear reference points, this album is leagues beyond anything that either of those bands has done in five or more years. Alastor has now positioned itself in the upper echelons of the genre. Doom on, brothers.

https://alastordoom.bandcamp.com/album/slave-to-the-grave-2

Never let it be said that I’m not thorough. Every December, lists such as this one start coming out of the woodwork, proclaiming the year’s best releases. And just how, asks my pragmatic self, can one decide what is best from among all albums when some of those albums are not even available yet? While December is a slow time for new releases, it is hardly devoid of them. And Fallen Empire, an excellent but now-defunct (transformed, really) label...well they give zero fucks about convention anyway. They dropped several releases on the ridiculous date of December 26th (with the vinyl pressings not even becoming available until January), and Acathexis is one of them. It’s almost a cruel joke to put something out into the world on that date, and begs for it to be ignored. However, the actual joke is on everyone that missed this brilliant record.

Acathexis is an international coalition of members spread as far and wide as California, Argentina, and Belgium. It’s remarkable enough that such musicians should come together under those circumstances, but then to create a work of this magnitude is stupefying. Within this record is the finest straight-up black metal of 2018. I say “straight-up” because it has no folk elements, is not especially melodic, and never really deviates from its single-minded mission across its four tracks, which average about ten minutes each. What it does do is deliver a relentless, hypnotic assault of blackened bliss that ranks among the finest purveyors of the genre.

To be clear, it’s not the sort of raw, frigid, black metal that some point to as the only “trve” kind, the stuff that came out of Scandinavia in the Second Wave. In fact, if I have to liken them to anyone, it would a band from this side of the pond: Wolves in the Throne Room, with some early Krallice and Leucosis added. Unlike WITTR’s propensity for pagan and nature themes (which, for the record, I adore), or their use of female vocals, Acathexis has zero pretense. It simply uses its overwhelming atmosphere to crush you into a little ball and keep you there while it pummels you with rage and darkness.

Every song here is fully glorious, but I’ll call out the latter moments of “Life Only Festers” as rising even farther above the fray, with evocative chord changes that represent black metal supremacy, and grief-infused melody lines that are incredible to behold. The somber-yet-sinister intro of “Veins Hollowed” lulls you into a melancholy stupor before the outburst of furious, fiery black metal burns away all flesh and consciousness. When the central tremolo melodies emerge and ascend, the gods themselves weep at their pure grandeur. And “Stillborn//Isolate” has an urgency to it that’s electrifying, threatening to split your skull clean open so it can stream out to the cosmos. Lastly, on a non-musical note, it’s worth stating that I truly adore the album artwork; it is staggeringly gorgeous.

If you’re a nerdy music obsessive that makes lists (and let’s be honest, you’re probably better off if you’re not) and you missed this slab of genius, there’s nothing you can do about it now. But what any black metal fan can and absolutely should do is forget whatever you’re currently listening to and go listen to this record instead. It’s never too late to embrace greatness, and that’s what Acathexis legitimately is -- true greatness in a work of inspired, dark, malicious, terrifying beauty.

https://acathexis.bandcamp.com/album/acathexis

Eneferens is one man, Jori Apedaile, and has already created three albums and an EP, despite only being in existence since 2016. The list of talented one-man black metal bands is long, but with The Bleakness of Our Constant, Mr. Apedaile rockets himself to the top of that list as one of the most talented to be found.

So yes, this is still more black metal, but actually the most salient reference point here is mid-2000s Opeth. First proper track “This Onward Reach” sounds a lot like Oak Pantheon, a band which itself bears more than a passing resemblance to Opeth, but with a black metal core. The song rumbles along nicely, blast beats laying the groundwork while atmospheric tremolo guitar riffing paints a melodic tapestry. When the vocals turn clean, however, they are blissful gentility, very much along the lines of Opeth’s Mikael Åkerfeldt. From here the song turns incredibly Opethian in terms of melody and structure. Now, to again reiterate, I am NOT talking about the Opeth of the last ten years. No, this is the stuff of Damnation and Deliverance, and even some throwbacks to Morningrise, albums where Opeth was at its staggering creative peak. Where Opeth was at its best.

“Amethyst” again reasserts the very strong parallel to Oak Pantheon. Both Eneferens and Oak Pantheon now reside in Minnesota, by the way -- must be something in those 10,000 lakes and northern woods. An altogether beautiful song, it positively oozes atmosphere, sorrow, and longing. It also again utilizes the same clean vocals to lush and gorgeous effect. It turns Opethian for a time, the guitar lines feeling classical and delicate, and then this ethereal cloud is violently ruptured by a storm of raging black metal that is nothing short of perfection. It’s the fastest and most aggressive this album gets, while the chord changes are magical, leading the whole passage to be truly rapturous and chill-inducing. Then “Awake” goes total Damnation-era Opeth, before becoming lushly progressive, veering into Porcupine Tree or Messenger territory. Of course, that makes perfect sense seeing as the early 2000s found Opeth working closely with Steven Wilson from Porcupine Tree, with each band influencing the other. Regardless of influences or references, the track is simply lovely.

Now, this album could have kept going on in this fashion, alternating between the aforementioned bands’ styles, and it would have been wonderful. It may still have ranked just as highly on this list because I’m a total sucker for those styles. Instead, Jori says fuck that and turns the entire affair on its head. Next track “Weight of the Mind’s Periapt” is pure funeral doom metal. Yes, I really mean that. It’s not necessarily a dramatic shift in tone -- any of you who don’t know what funeral doom metal is can probably guess at its emphasis -- because melancholy is a frequent theme across this whole album. But he really does go all-out, with deep, guttural vocals that are a hallmark of the genre, and a trudging, crushing pace. He returns to the clean vocals, which here seem even more emotional than anywhere else, and delivers the most lyrically intense moments of the record. The grief, regret, and self-deprecation are nearly tangible, and every time I hear these sections I am riveted by how heartfelt they are. The first section is amazing enough, but the second brings the song to a close, a cappella, uttering the title of the album as the final words. It it unbelievably poignant and shakes me to my very core.

Continuing the stylistic departure, “11:34” (no it’s not that long) is an unexpected wash of ambience. Too often, such tracks on metal albums are throwaways, but this one is actually effective. A large part of why is that it sounds strikingly like one of my all-time favorite non-metal bands, the glorious Faunts. It’s an enchanting bridge to finale “Selene” which begins with...with...is that a fucking UKULELE?! Sure sounds like it to my ears, and it is stunning. Mostly associated with Hawai’i and luaus, here it sounds so fragile, so sad, and so fitting. After this breathtaking and frankly shocking start, the song aligns with the first half of the album in style, with harsh vocals, lots of great melody, and huge, resounding guitar chords.

While there are certainly moments where The Bleakness of Our Constant bucks trends within itself, Eneferens isn’t breaking any metal molds with the music here. Rather, the album’s strength lies in its emotional weight, its sincerity, and its sheer quality. My world isn’t lacking for powerful, atmospheric black metal, but I am more than happy to carve out a hallowed place in it for this project.

https://eneferens.bandcamp.com

My favorite sub-genre of black metal is pagan black metal, which is predominantly concerned with nature themes. When done well, it is incredible to behold and deeply affects me in a way that other music cannot. Masters such as Ulver, Agalloch, and Wolves in the Throne Room (or the whole Cascadian Black Metal scene for that matter) have delivered wondrous works to be sure. But none have been as ambitious as this opus by Sweden’s Bhleg.

Solarmegin is a double album with just over 98 minutes of music spread across two CDs. It took the band three years to write, and another year to record. This isn’t just a musical release -- it’s a saga. It laughs in the face of any album that has ever been described as “epic.” And yet, most importantly, it doesn’t feel long. It never drags or feels tedious. It simply is. It’s a journey in which you lose yourself, and time becomes meaningless.

The purely black metal songs here are universally great. You cannot go wrong with any of them and singling one or two of them out as highlights is a pointless enterprise. Yes, there are melodies that are perhaps more spine-tingling than others, but on the whole you have superb melancholy tremolo riffing and boatloads of atmosphere. That alone is sufficient reason to listen to stuff such as this for hours.

No, the immense strength of this recording is just how deeply pagan it truly is. From its overall theme of being inspired by the Sun, through to the band members’ intensely sincere connection to their ancestors, this masterpiece is damn near an anthropological document. And those moments are not quite as powerfully represented by the metallic elements as by the folk ones. The blackened “Gudomlig Grönska” hints at it with some chanting vocals and even some brief throat singing, and the raging “Kraftsång till Sunna” has some cries that sound Native American (more on that later), but the greatest magic is found in the quiet moments.

For one, I love the frequent use of chirping birds. The album opens with them, they reappear at the end of of “Alstrande Sol,” and again as that track segues into “Livslågans Flammande Sken.” They return yet again at the start of disc two to herald the second chapter, just as they did the first. And disc two is where this collection of music, already thoroughly mesmerizing and spectacular up this point, ascends to the next level. The staggering “Frö (Växtlighetens Fader) uses (in addition to more birds) traditional folk instrumentation to summon an ancient vibe, then to accent its enormous mid-tempo black metal rumble. As birds and percussion transition into album finale “Solens Ankomst,” even more folk instrumentation emerges, and then comes the chanting. Now, as much as I’m preoccupied with Scandinavia, I’m not an expert, and the voices that rise here sound distinctly Native American. A rhythmic pulse of “hey-yas” fills the background in synch with the tribal drums, and a chorus of female and male voices create their own counterpoint melodies. To say that it is haunting is a pathetic understatement. It is one of the most beautiful and moving things I have ever heard. It is utterly visceral and beckons to something deep within me, a feeling of cosmic divinity. The fact that it all sounds Native American, as opposed to anything I’ve traditionally heard in relation to Scandinavian culture, makes it all the all the more riveting. It’s a testament to the interconnectedness of all life, to the common thread that binds every human on this planet, a thread so many of us have lost.

I feel like I’ve listened to this album 100 times and I’m just now beginning to delve into its deeper layers. It isn’t that it’s that dense, I think it’s just that rich. It has a lot to give, and if you are willing to receive, it is almost endlessly rewarding. Hail Father Sun, Hail Mother Earth, and Hail the Mighty Bhleg.

https://bhleg.bandcamp.com/album/solarmegin

I’ve been a Low fan for a long time, though I only got into them in the second half of their now 25+ year career. Their style has gone down different avenues from time to time, but stayed somewhat predictable. 2013’s The Invisible Way and 2015’s Ones and Sixes were arguably weaker albums for them, falling into perhaps too mundane a territory, and lacking many standout songs. It was in this mindset that I first experienced Double Negative, and I had neither heard nor read anything about it before that initial listen. I was utterly dumbfounded and baffled by what greeted my ears.

Low went electronic. No, not like they did with 2011’s brilliant Drums and Guns, which brought in nifty clicks, buzzes, pulses, and synths to complement their overall sound. Instead, Double Negative is the stuff of William Basinski and Philip Jeck. It is ambient drone. It is crumbling distortion. It is an assault on the senses and a destructive lullaby. And somehow through all that it is still irrevocably, undeniably Low.

The rumbling distortion of opener “Quorum” is a massive, undulating wave of electrified sonic magma, crackling and bubbling as it consumes everything. Yet it drops away to reveal the ever-resplendent vocal harmony of Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker, and you’re back in familiar Low territory. That is, until you’re once again overtaken by that crumbling wave of molten rock. “Dancing and Blood” is sparse and minimalist, but still enormous, throbbing with a relentless beat, like the heart of a planet-sized giant. “Fly” is a more customary Low song, with Mimi singing solo, but even it does not forego a powerful, pulsing, ambient backbone. In fact the bass on this track is so intense that it literally rattles the objects in the room. I can safely say there is no other Mimi-fronted song in the Low catalog that does that. Its final moments are enhanced by broken, stuttering synths that sound like modified vocal utterances, and which are rather haunting.

Moving into the second quarter of the album, it does not let up in the slightest. The droning power of “Tempest” is otherworldly, a juggernaut fraying at the edges and collapsing within. Due partly to the heavily altered vocals, but really also because of the overall feel, it sounds like a Faunts song, a fact that leaves me giddy. As huge as it sounds from the start, the turn it takes just past the 3:30 mark is staggering, when an even louder and deeper surge of bass rolls in. Now it’s not just objects in the room that are rattling, but your walls, your foundation, and your skull. It’s unreal.

One of the many delights of this record is how most the tracks move seamlessly into one another, and the transition into “Always Up” is one of the best examples. This song eases off the bass pedal a bit and is achingly lovely, with quiet sections where Mimi is truly ethereal, alternating with the couple’s usual wondrous harmonies. “Always Trying to Work It Out” is another track that feels like it fits more into the standard Low template, minus the fact that the lumbering beats are gigantic whooshes of bass, and Alan’s vocal on the chorus is slowed down, like it’s being mercilessly sucked down by quicksand. Mimi’s is not, however, and the call-and-response effect they create is very cool.

“The Son, the Sun” is the one track here that says fuck it and goes full ambient. It sounds like an apocalyptic storm brewing on the horizon, and while there is a vocal, it’s just an angelic “ahhhhh” laid over the top, heralding the end of all. Taken on its own, you would have no idea it is a Low song. “Dancing and Fire,” on the other hand, is probably the one song here that could fit on another Low album and not feel totally of place. It’s a brooding tune with light, glittering guitar strums that echo out and up to the heavens. Alan sings the first verse and is joined by Mimi on the second, with them both taking on the chorus. It’s classic Low, which means it’s pure magic.

The final quarter of the album begins with possibly my favorite song of all, the grim and powerful “Poor Sucker.” Backed by a wall of ghostly rumbling and twitchy whispers, it’s driven by simple, eerie keys, while the vocals have a layer of light distortion over them. Low can be incredibly dark, and this track is a smothering pall that traps you in the corner of a lightless cavern. In other words, it’s fantastic. “Rome (Always in the Dark)” feels almost rocking by comparison, with a big, stomping rhythm and more of that monumental bass distortion. It overlaps with the magnificent “Disarray,” a highlight among highlights. It’s always important to me than an album ends well, and this song fulfills that duty sublimely. Its foundation is oscillating synth and bass, complemented only by Sparhawk/Parker vocal perfection. The way they hold the note at the end of each verse, then carry it into the final moment of the song, working in two-part harmony, is chilling and exquisite.

It’s odd to say that listening to a Low album at high volume would add to the experience, but that really is true here. In fact, I think it’s recorded at a high volume anyway, because I never once felt the need to turn it up, yet found that it was filling the space around me and wrapping me in an immense cocoon of sound. It will consume you, and you should absolutely let it. The fact that Low would make THIS album, THIS far into their career, is truly astounding. That takes a level of guts and daring that few bands will ever even possess in their lifetimes. Double Negative unquestionably thrusts Low back into relevancy, if they ever left, and irrefutably cements their continued creative prowess. Here’s to 25 more years.

https://lowtheband.bandcamp.com/album/double-negative