Primordial's latest, "To The Nameless Dead" is a more than convincing testament to their already ossified place as one of the most innovative bands in metal today. Black metal, Celtic/Folk metal, Dark Metal? Does it really matter? It seems to be the case that bands of this stature cannot be pigeon-holed into a definitive genre. This particular album's musical ebullience is simply too restless, too intransigent to fit in the boundaries of such a denotation. The tried and true recipe of erstwhile offerings vindicates itself once again: the combination of Nemtheanga’s enthralling epic lyricism with the soaring melancholic melodies present in each song deliver what every devoted fan has come to expect from this band. The riffage is vintage Primordial all the way and the percussive duties courtesy of S.O. Laoghaire drive the dynamics of the music in a most befitting manner. The songs on this album pound the senses like waves: ebbing mid-tempo deluges of despairing melodies that flow majestically into those familiar exalting crescendos. There are subtle differences between this album and their previous offering “The Gathering Wilderness” and even albums before that. While these were predominantly characterized by a bitter, more pessimist undertone, this album is almost uplifting at times like a heroic insurrection from the mire.
As ever, where the band truly shines however is in its honesty and genuine emotion which allows them to transpose their inspirational fountainhead unto music with a unique conviction of purpose. Where most seek to lull the listener into vacuous soundscapes of fantasy worlds, Primordial's painful realism hits you right in the face with their powerful guitar work and hair-raising lyrical passages. In this album the latter deal primarily with the endless struggle of generations of men to fight to the death for a piece of land and call it their own with a prime focus on the supreme tragedy that this ongoing cycle of victory and loss entails. And what better vehicle for this than Primordial’s epic, battle-worn sound? What I particularly appreciate about Primordial and especially in this case is their intriguing insight into such matters. Be it their innate Celtic temperament or the tumultuous history of their native land, there is always something appealingly authentic emanating from their music that keeps them light-years apart from sounding even remotely corny. The artists draw deeply from their hearts and manage to reach as deep in the listener’s one as well.
Arthur Schopenhauer once wrote that the aesthetic appreciation of music relieves our person from the grips of an otherwise enslaving and oppressive reality (what he termed, in metaphysical terms, as the Will). It allows us to achieve a sort of cosmic union with the perennial forces that seem to mold the course of mankind since its wake and therefore a release from the dreary everyday-ness of our lives. Ultimately, the poetic blend of sound and prose in this particular case successfully renders the tragic Geist of humanity into an audible, tangible form perhaps for some even achieving the aforementioned aesthetic emancipation. "Where is the fighting man?" cries Nemtheanga in a demanding, almost desperate tone of voice. Aye, the answer lies in the Man himself lurking in every one of us and his spirit transcendentally objectified in every note herein. And this is all this humble writer has to say for what might yet very well be the best metal release for 2007 and quite possibly Primordial’s most streamlined and mature offering to date.
(originally written for Tartarean Desire - autumn 2007)
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