Friday, April 29, 2016
"Sitra Ahra" immediately grabs the attention with its repeated, evil melodic phrase and the punchy precision and bulk of the rhythm guitar used to accent it like percussion. Once the song develops further, it's composed of largely predictable tremolo picked death metal patterns redolent of old Deicide, accented with bold octave chords ala Morbid Angel, but while they honor these old, overt Floridian influences, there is also a tiny hint of ritualistic Greek black metal that you'd associate more with Thou Art Lord or Rotting Christ, only a lot of the fetchier melodies have been supplanted by pure sepulchral aggression. Granted, this is more often captured in some of the break riffs, where the drums drop out, and the meat of the thing is far more conservative to its inspirations, but there are moments of departure, especially in the 2nd track, that bring this native spirit to the fore. Bernardo's blasting and double bass have a mechanical nature to them which seems better suited to a pure brutal death experience, not that it doesn't work within the context of this material, but it also doesn't leave much up to the imagination.
In all, while I didn't really enjoy the two tracks enough to spin them more than a handful of times, there were some decent ideas here which were clearly the foundation of great potential. As mentioned, the production is really good, better than what you'd find on a number of albums by its constituents. I do wish the drums were a little less clinical, and more atmospheric in volume, but he was more or less serving as a studio player and I'm not sure how much attention he was able to give the project. Also, the majority of the riffs are just not as compelling as the intro to the first tune, or the choppier atmospheric breaks nestled into the trenches of either of them, and one wishes they had fleshed that out more to make this stand out against a wider variety of old school death metal acts, because this is clearly more in that subgenre than the blackness, which manifests through only a handful of riffs and themes. Still, Seventh Xul was quite competent, and Qliphothic Rites of Death has its moments. With more space allotted for their ideas to gestate, they could very well have climbed 'the ranks' and become more radar-worthy across the underground.
Verdict: Indifference [6.5/10]
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
As mentioned, Emma Hellström had a soothing, rich pitch reminiscent of Anneke van Giersbergen, but she also could hit an eerier, I.C.S. Vortex keening during the less comfortable moments. Yet she was not alone here, joined by a panoply of grunts, growls and Goth-speak by guitarist/vocalist Tobias Martinsson, to the point that they're fairly even distributed with their own lines, and also capable of some rather elegant harmonies as in "Frequencynic". The guitars ranged from lamentations of crisp Goth/doom to more biting patterns that recalled mid-paced progressive thrash, offset by some dingier, cleaner tones. Though 25th Hour; Bleeding is stylistically consistent, there was quite enough going on here that each composition eschewed predictability to create a jagged landscape of ideas that would both calm the listener and jerk him about within a small cluster of measures. The drums set a grooving pace with lots of great little fills and an almost jazzy angel of approach in spots, while the bass bounced back and forth between a smooth low end and its own cavorting grooves that lend the album an impression of murky, druggy 70s psychedelia.
Add to this the judicious use of flute, in a tasteful, Tull-like fashion, and a bevy of synthesizers, pianos and organ tones that enhance the rhythm guitars rather than compete with them for your attentions, and you had quite an engaging listen. In fact, I was quite sure the first time I spun 25th Hour; Bleeding that I was listening to the 'next big thing'. The lyrics were mildly more poetic and poignant than the droopy-eyed standards of the niche, and the music, while maintaining a slightly serrated edge, had this refreshing, hopeful quality to its aggression which stood out. Paired up with some really catchy vocal and guitar hooks, this is just one of those debut records that deserved more. The cover image was shite with its silhouette, and Scarlet Records was unable to effectively market a number of its more compelling bands, but otherwise this was a very good disc which I'd recommend to those seeking off-kilter Scandinavian mash-ups, somewhere between Theater of Tragedy and The Sins of Thy Beloved and the eclectics of Solefald and Ulver.
Verdict: Win [8.25/10] (suppressed by all mankind)
Friday, April 15, 2016
I should point out that I came away from Cornucopia with the notion that it's divided into two distinct semi-halves, the first comprised of the four parts of the "Nemesis" sequence, the other the five tracks which follow it. Certainly there is aesthetic feedback from one side to the other, but I almost felt as if it was an anthology of two EPs. That's not a big deal at all, and can probably just be attributed to the layout of the album, but it seems to transcend from a morose, gloomy doom metal atmosphere with some of Gallo's biggest pure 70s doom licks yet to something a little more free-form and jammy, as in the aptly titled "Giallo". There are still some heavy loads on the latter half, like "Frozen Awakening" which is about as pure as you're going to get, but just a slightly more whimsical willingness to tread off the beaten path, an idea which dominated a lot of their amazing Strange Doorways compilation which collected a whole of demo recordings into quite an experience. But I don't want to confuse the reader: the quality itself is pretty consistent throughout. If you're smoking what Blizaro is smoking as the curtains part for the mystical Egyptian intro to "Daughter of the Scarab", then you'll still be on board as that melodic jamming cards out closure to "Stygian Gate". If not, well...then it's going to be hard to roll when you're such a square.
Murky, leaden doom coming from the basement beneath your feet. It's no stranger to convention, but offers just enough structure and variation that it feels quite far away from the laziness of much of the stoner sect who barks up this very same tree, and really not terribly like anything else I own. Gallo is a riffing machine, incorporating loads of NWOBHM and even a handful of primal USPM traits into the hooks, and the thick, swarthy bass-lines and raw drums keep the head bobbing while the pupils dilate as you feel yourself launched into cult ritual happening somewhere south of Woodstock. And by south I meant under. the. fucking. ground. His vocals are like that haunted cousin of 70s Ozzy who is much less drunk off his own exhaust. Lead guitars will string you along, almost every song on the record continues to adapt and there's almost no way to accurately predict exactly what will happen, much like seeing an Italian horror flick for the first time. Sure, you know there's going to be some killer with a memorable quirk to his slashing behavior, but it's the color and the performances and the soundtrack which stands out to memory long after the plot secedes. Check, check, aaaand... checkmate.
Verdict: Win [8.5/10]
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Or a swaggering, drunk cultist who just stumbled out of a drinking hole with his hood down, realizing that he's still got to pay the electric bill the next day. But, damn, when they were dancing around that bonfire, the guitars churning out that rich, antiquated evil in "Orgone", his barks and shouts grating beneath them, they were damned near to touching the infernal and singing their fingers off! Khanus is served entirely by how its riffing structures don't exactly queue up with any one sub-genre, but run the gamut of black, death, thrash, and perhaps even a little doom metal. Like Root, we can only shoehorn them into one category based upon the organizational preferences of our own minds, but they scratch a number of itches, with riffs that aren't extremely memorable in the long term, yet are captivating enough while one is in the midst of their roiling, jarring presence, especially when this singer is delivering those sustained, atmospheric, nihilistic growls. The drums here are groovy, shuffling and semi-tribal but also well fit to the band's tempo shifting; the bass lines wander just enough out of the subtext to matter, and really round out the ritual.
Additional flourishes like the haunting backing choirs are also mighty effective, and as I hinted before the riffs themselves offer enough variation that I felt they were constantly exploring and carving new angles to this sound, creating a richer perspective that instantly helps the band stand out among a wasteland of garden variety peers. You can tell that that raw, Finnish black metal lineage has rubbed off on Khanus, but they take it all to a new space, tracing their DNA not from Horna or Behexen or their own Norse precursors, but from a lot of less obvious bands that always thrived on the borders where various extremities met...Root, Acheron, Master's Hammer, groups such as these came to mind throughout Rites of Fire, but visually I kept conjuring up images of primitive pagans slinging fire and traipsing through a woodland wearing animal skulls. I suppose that means that this is a pretty goddamn good introduction, so I'll be definitely be anticipating a full-length, and hoping they ramp up the variation and oddness that they very clearly can.
Verdict: Win [8.25/10] (rise and fill the lands)
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
To be clear, Post Society is not an entirely 'fresh' or innovative landmark in their legacy, it's more or less a love letter to the Dimension Hatröss sound, elevated in its own way by Chewy's penchant for elegant, precision licks that honor his predecessor with almost every note selection. At its fastest and most frenzied, as in the title track or "We Are Connected", it might seem a fraction more technical than some of their 80s material, but clearly there are several dissonant patterns here that definitely 'check the boxes' and seem to have an almost direct lineage to that warped, groovy, alien history. But it's also cleaner cut, much like Target Earth, with a punchy but smooth mix to the guitars that seems nonthreatening but still very much otherworldly...I often struggle to believe that these gentlemen were musically developed on my own planet, and I can think of no greater compliment. Post Society might be an attractive package, but even if it can't hope to be as abrasive, raw or furious as Killing Technology, it still reflects that you've just stepped into that same unique space in the metalsphere.
I can sing praises to Mongrain's performance all day long, but the MVP here might have to go to new bassist Rocky, aka Dominique Laroche, who's distorted grooves and tone also recall his own forebear (Blacky) with pride. Having that supremely entertaining post-punk undercurrent to the music really fattens up its efficacy, drawing out the band's atavism for their its earlier years, and boundless with its extraterrestrial energies. Snake's vocals also sound just as effective as ever, not in the raw, repulsive sense of the first two albums, but he's still got the melody and punkiness of their 90s era, and the guy has always been a little underrated at how well he makes use of a fairly limited range. Away is as tight as you might expect behind his kit, but where the guy really earns his merit badge here is in how he's created the greatest, most evocative artwork they've used since Dimension Hatröss and the older albums. It might seem simple with its black and silver finish, but I could stare at that image all day, wowed and terrified in equal measures, and the newish logo looks great with it.
If I'm docking Post Society a few points for anything at all, it's that a few seconds worth of licks are dangerously close to others they've used in the past, but also because the band's cover of Hawkwind's "Silver Machine", which rounds out the EP, just cannot hope to live up to the band's own material. It's a fitting piece for Voivod, and the timing couldn't be better with the passing of one of its creators, who also happened to be God. But even though I love the original, it's simply too to 'basic' to sit behind the 25 minutes of varied, imaginative songwriting that precedes it. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a stain on the disc, since it's a solid cover, but they'd have had to take a lot more liberties with how they presented it to keep it consistent with the rest. Still, I think a lot of folks will find it adequate and respectable, certainly suited to the Canadians' lyrical themes and sci-fi aural aesthetics, and it's easily forgiven considering just how goddamn great everything else turned out.
Verdict: Epic Win [9.5/10] (stay in your lane)
Monday, April 11, 2016
As with its predecessor, you've definitely got a heaping helping of Wolverine Blues meets Serpent Saints - The Ten Amendments, the Swedes' patented rock & roll injection alternating and altercating with small fits of Morning Star thrash and groove metal, and even scarcer reflections of the pure death metal of their adolescence (which, I'm in agreement, is STILL their best work). Mid-paced bruisers are balanced out with slower, creeping grooves that cultivate a dank, bluesy aesthetic, but where the band really strikes me is how they integrate these fairly basic riffing progressions with leads and restrained atmospheric melodies that make all the difference in the delivery. "Silent Assassin" manages to morph what is essentially a minimal, barbaric momentum into something altogether cooler with its tremolo-picked chorus, while "The Winner Has Lost" is a meaty speed/thrash tune with several of those mildly atmospheric licks to escalate it. "Hubris Fall" is a slothful, impressive epic. The grooves throughout the record seem swarthy, dour and eternally pessimistic, given an assist by the dense lower end spectrum of the production, and by Olle Dahlstedt's fills.
Leading the troops through this slum of emotional fallout, L-G Petrov's intonations here carry just as much of that nihilistic encumbrance as ever, a grainy and grumbling performance which seems like so much soil that has gathered in a back alley, buried in garbage and inevitably, rage. Dead Dawn is at times pretty peppy in structure, but it's also very, very fucking bleak, moreso than the last half a dozen caverncore discs I've received, at the very least. But this is the bleak that would be manifest through drunkenness or depression, anger and confinement, being sick of being in one's skin, and not some flight of the fantastic or cosmic summoning of an unnameable horror. This is stuff that makes you want to drive a truck into something important, while choking back as much whiskey as possible, seeing nothing but entropy as far as you look. Bone-rattling. Any 12-step program would flee in terror from this case. And to that extent, it rocks its balls off, and as long as they keep putting out material like this, I will give two fucks about any 'legitimacy' of this new brand of Entombed, because when the style is treated with this much respect, and just the right fraction of innovation and nuance, as it is throughout Dead Dawn, then it is quite not-dead.
Verdict: Win [8/10]
Sunday, April 10, 2016
"Sunsworn Knight" is the opener, a somber and emotional piece of beautiful doom which shifts through a palette of tempos, rather than settle on nearly nine minutes of repetition and redundancy. Brighter chords selections, and the restrained use of pianos accent Carrig's vocal performance, which hits a nice angry stride at the climax of the verses, a potent spin on the stylings of Yearning's late Juhani Palomäki or Moonspell's Fernando Ribeiro. Female vocals are incorporated tastefully behind the lead vocal line, while there is a major improvement with the bass-lines, which offer something slightly different in the choice of grooves and fills that strengthen the composition. Lowell's own beats and fills are confident and consistent, a drummer who is just as comfortable blasting along as he would be grooving, never content to just play metronome, so there is always this sense that the song is about to go nova, and while that never completely manifests, there are definitely segments where some of that energy transforms into a payoff.
On the other hand, "Pureblood Demon" is a more contemplative lamentation, with a guest narrator giving the listener some background through an elegy worthy of Bal-Sagoth only a little more serious in tone. Then the deep intonations of Carrig's clean take over, eventually leading up to some of Lowell's crumbling gutturals which strike at just the right time, ascending back into a glorious apogee where the male/female duet returns like a lullaby set to cathedral doom and a faint trace of organ. Blacksoul is simply not the predictable, garden variety of Gothic doom which rests on its laurels for endless cycles of nothingness, but a vibrant and tragic take on its constituent genres. In fact, there are numerous flourishes of progressive, black and melodic death metal here, so I hesitate to even narrow it down. This pair doesn't care to restrict themselves to any one in particular, so why should the rest of us?
Granted, this is not an admixture of genres for everyone in 2016. It's not for pizza thrashers or closet Vikings who came into metal through rhythm-based video gaming. It's pretty Euro, and I think that's where you'd find the lion's share of its potential audience. But if you do find yourself reminiscing for those late 90s or early '00s recordings which populated the rosters of labels like Napalm and Holy Records, or if you enjoy Isole, mid-era Anathema or the less crushing My Dying Bride material, then this could certainly prove worth your time. It doesn't just completely settle for the dusts of nostalgia, but offers a slim ray of hope that such styles can continue to be etched away at, continue to evolve towards the future. That's not to say it's blindingly original or ambitious, but it's also very, very far from lazy. It's flexible. Fecund with possibility. The value of just these two songs rivals that which I derived from the entire debut album Alms & Avarice, which was no slouch. A great access point, and an even better launchpad for future efforts.
Verdict: Win [8/10]
Saturday, April 9, 2016
To be clear, Penalty by Perception is very much identifiable as an Artillery album. The brothers Stützer's distinct, uplifting riff style is present through the majority of the playtime. But since that has long been one of the two highlights of the band, it's also one of my disappointments. At its fastest and most frenetic, the guitar progressions here just feel like they're retreading By Inheritance or the prior post-reunion material, only with a lot less zest, and certainly less creativity. They can still sling an axe, of that there is no question, and yet the absolute over-the-top sense of melody and drive is lacking. The palm mutes are polished and chunky, especially in slower to mid-paced pieces like "Mercy of Ignorance", but the riffing level is at best a few steps below their prime, and lacks the raw and rugged appeal of a Fear of Tomorrow or Terror Squad. Tunes like "Rites of War" and "Live by the Scythe" sound like I've heard them before, only they've been paraphrased for less excitement, and at almost no point did a sequence of notes here stick out in my brain for more than a song's duration.
I'm also just not into Michael Bastholm Dahl's vocals in this band. He's a seasoned singer with a solid voice, largely mid-to-high range with a few flights north of that, but he just sounds too clean and tidy, even over these guitars here, which themselves lack some charm. What made the early albums work was their sense of aggression helmed by Fleming Ronsdorf's angry bark, and once By Inheritance arrived it was the contrast of frenetic melodic elegance with those same crude vocals. Here he just sounds like he could be singing over any other power/prog metal hybrid. That's not to say he entirely lacks an edge when he needs one, or that they don't complement him with some backing shouts and so forth to flesh out the variation ("Deity Machine"), but most of the time the performance just fell flat with me, too studied and restrained for the music to ever reach viral. Otherwise, the drums and bass are fine, the production is like a meatier modern take on the first couple albums, my disconnect really just comes down to the songwriting.
Penalty by Perception is still not a 'bad' album, per se, and they remain distinct among many of their younger, pizza thrashing peers, simply by virtue of them writing in this power/speed/thrash hybrid. I'd probably place this on the same level of its predecessor, Legions, a solid but unremarkable disc, one that I just didn't derive much enjoyment from due to the sterility compared to past brilliance.
Verdict: Indifference [6.5/10]
Friday, April 8, 2016
Couple of details I noticed up front: the bass performance here is quite a lot better than on either of the earlier releases, with lots of frenetic grooves and lines that hold their own against the dissonance of the guitar rhythms and the nihilistic guttural vocal. Also, the whole record just feels brighter and more welcome upon the ears, not for lack of trying to grind your mind, but simply by virtue of the production. Far more rhythms and tempos are also present across these tunes than these seven tunes, but they retain Howls' careful balance of overwhelming darkness with just a slight semblance of humor; the bridge of "Cabals of Molder" is a prime example of this, with its lurching, burlesque chugs adorned in all manner of guitar wailing and growls. Excellent music all around, and truly fucking atmospheric and unusual; but it's also self-aware enough to provide 'fun' amidst all the torture and gloom, of which there is a considerable amount. The tracks are also kept a lot shorter than the figurehead for the prior EP, but still manage high levels of internal variety and unpredictability.
No experiment really goes awry. Even the closer, "The Apocryphalic Wick", which begins as this gradual ambient ascent into a spastic nightmare, and features some excellent vocal echo rhythms near the close, feels like a crowning, deliberate achievement. The disheveled riffing is always satisfying, never too 'out there' for its own good, and to contrast this, the lead guitars (also an improvement), despite their elasticity, feel as if they're the most traditional and grounded part of the songwriting. The lyrics are beyond excellent. At the risk of annoying half my friends and having the Man Himself awaken from his grave and slap me upside the head with a tentacle, Howls of Ebb also feels more positively 'Lovecraftian' than almost any other extreme metal act to wear that banner. For the obscure mythology it invokes in its use of language, titles, characters, antiquities. For the nervousness which pervades the songwriting. It does seem like you've come across some priceless, rare tome of invocations of stories that were meant to be hidden from prying eyes, lest all of Man's sanity come undone at a touch of prose. Bury this deep in the stacks at Miskatonic when you finish listening.
Verdict: Epic Win [9.25/10] (fetid foul upon sullied jowls)
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Describing this is a task, and yet it's basically, at its core, a continued unraveling or deconstruction of death metal tropes into a swatch of cinematic and atmospheric 'scenes', few of which are quite alike but all of which are scary as hell. Ambient discord, grating guttural narratives spun alongside spectral whispers through an atonal haunted asylum. And when the dissonant death metal progressions rumble out of their cells like inmates in chains, it sounds infinitely more effective than your latest cavern core 101 act trying to lovingly proxy its 1990s precursors. Percussion is cluttered but rich, adding a lot to the chaotic undercurrent of the compositions, and the core riffs are integrated with all manner of unusual, mid-ranged patterns which accent the roiling, ugly undertow of rhythm guitars that are delivered with the perfect level of organic, grimy grain. Definitely a significant horror influence to how sounds are structured, from the eerier graveyard mood to segments that feel like clouds of insects swarming their prey, burrowing into their blood and laying eggs in the viscera (in the bowels of "Iron Laurels, Woven in Rust".)
It might seem like a random comparison to some, but the longer track here ("Standing on Bedlam, Burning in Bliss"), clocking in at over 20 minutes, almost felt like a Mr. Bungle-level jaunt into sonic augmentation across a wide variety of moods, and yet its myriad contrasts all felt flush in its scene-setting. Creepy, but not without a degree of humor in its lack of constraint. It's the real front and center-piece of the EP and not just some bloated behemoth tucked into the folds. The other tunes are considerable shorter, but they actually do it justice, and thus The Marrow Veil is as consistent as it could be, considering its circumstances as bat-shit insane. I felt like I was captive audience to some short film by an unknown avant-savant, a Luis Buñuel of death metal who is really only at the beginning of his journey. Remember experiencing Un Chien Andalou for the first time, how you were revolted but couldn't turn away? Translate that into the aural realm, and experience a brilliant murk of obscurity that is more effective than the last thirteen fright flicks you saw.
Verdict: Epic Win [9.5/10] (pensively melting deep)