Vortex - Version (Self-released, 2007)

For a moment there I thought that maybe there was something about this band; that maybe, given the plethora of influences they could tap into, there was a glint of authentic musical acumen. But no; unfortunately for my –by now- shriveled auditory cortex, this particular musical platter hasn't met my, apparently, lofty expectations - not by a long shot. Where Satyricon (with Rebel Extravaganza) in essence provided the most refined form of black metal extremism/terrorism without the need to resort to death metal inoculations; where Thorns (with their self-titled, singular album) fundamentally solidified black metal within its riff-o-logical (indeed, I'm making up words now - mind?) substratum; where DHG (with 666 International) took the usual black metal forms and distorted/contorted/morphed them beyond recognition against a canvas of abstract surrealism, Vortex can only sit cross-legged nearby like the proverbial infant sucking on its thumb, dumbfounded if not rather perplexed. 

VERSion as a musical endeavor is seemingly content with just gliding blissfully along the aesthetical wave of the aforementioned triptych without any indication of stirring into unknown “waters” and countering this wash-over of stale songcraft. Spastically rendered rhythms coupled with shambling dynamics make the songs feel as if they’re stuck in 2nd gear. At their worst they sound like a mish-mash of plastered industro-beats and interspersed, bland staccato riffery; at their best they do sound quite promising, if only for a few transient moments of inspired experimentation. In effect, what has happened here is that the band has fallen in the pitfall that has befallen so many bands before them: the constituent parts are actually more functional than aesthetically genuine, i.e. although the band is instrumentally adept; the very 'soul' of the music remains unconvincing. Vocals only exacerbate any given impression of a musical congruence - sounds like the guy after numerous tries perforce had to settle with just shouting the lyrics with a limited sense of tonal inflection. 

Although admittedly I could only half-heartedly 'get' DHG’s manic structural aberrance, still there was an artistic direction that could be discerned out of the sprawling chaos but frustratingly enough, this is not the case with these Huns. But hey, maybe I’m wrong, maybe these are just the incipient steps of a band destined towards greatness, in which case in the years to come I may prove to be the one narrow-minded individual who couldn't see the genius through it all. But then again, maybe not.

(originally written for Diabolical Conquest - 2008)

Bardoseneticcube / Noises of Russia - New Orthodox Line (Some Place Else, 2007)

 

I suppose any possible arrangement of sound for it to be dubbed 'music' must have a psychological analogue, a mental configuration as it were that reflects an overarching audial theme to its subject, i.e the listener. If such a condition isn't satisfied by the case in point then we could in a formal sense dismiss such an 'arrangement' as noise. But herein lies the paradox - at least in my mind anyway - since for all its noisy recalcitrance with regards to what your typical Average Joe considers as music to dub this offering as mere 'noise' per se would be a misnomer since it manages to conjure such a wide gamut of other-worldly mindscapes that your typical chorus-verse-chorus-verse-solo act couldn't even dream of concocting with its intrinsically myopic compositional strategy. 

Philosophical musings aside, ‘New Orthodox Line’ sees two Russian acts symbiotically bleeding into each other's aesthetical imprint and producing an offering that is over and above the mere sum of its constituent input from the outfits involved. Let me clarify for the un-initiated that the only sense of rhythm and tonality you'll get from this odious split stems solely from the distorted clunking church bells and the monotonous chanting - that's it as far as structure is concerned, everything else is submerged in a tub of harsh feedback and disorientating frequencies. Mind-penetrating cacophony washes over the lingering chants without eclipsing their presence altogether and sampled screeches resonate with tinny reverberation. After a while this seeming thematic antithesis of order versus chaos reaches an end and we plunge headfirst into a whitewashed soundscape of assuaging ambience, resurfacing feedbacks and oscillating clatters of metallic noise. Suddenly of all things, the chilling cry of an infant echoes through this audially weaved expanse before thick ambient layers and the resurging, familiar chanting motif clasp the remaining shards of any sort of cohesion left amidst the splintering noise and henceforth signal an apt closure to this surreal inward journey.

The closest 'metal' aesthetic semblance I can think off the top of my head is Abruptum's ‘Casus Luciferi’ but ‘New Orthodox Line’ is really on another plane in terms of conviction and artistic flair. As the scathing textural dissonance tactfully disrupts your neural circuitry, this sonic experience attains the mystique of a religious mass - formal schemata and meaning are deformed beyond recognition and sheer, direct understanding precedes over any sort of musical conventionalities. At this level of abstraction, potential naysayers might quip a sarcastic comment, mock at the seeming uselessness of such an endeavour and retreat back to their familiar and more approachable musical milieu, but what our unfortunate bipeds have apparently failed to grasp is that objectively speaking pure Art never needed a purpose in the first place anyway.

(originally written for Diabolical Conquest - 31/5/2008)

Wolves In The Throne Room - Two Hunters (Southern Lord Recordings, 2007)

 

At last! At last after a near 15-year long brooding period of itching and scratching a band comes along that truly 'gets' what Vikernes tried to do with ‘Hvis Lyset Tar Oss’ and ‘Filosofem’. At last a band that remains self-realised in its quiddity as an individual unit without compromising its undoubtedly black metal identity. At last we hopeless romantics can let out a sigh of relief (not only because of this particular release mind you, thankfully as of late there has been an array of quality albums) who for a few agonising years doubted that black metal had something cerebral to offer and reluctantly began to accept that maybe, just maybe, all was naught but a mere outlet for pubescent angst. Ladies and gents, I bring you ‘Two Hunters’.

Granted, when confronted with this kind of forest-worship, new-coming minds may subconsciously wander towards Dimmu Borgir era ‘Stormblast’, early Emperor or even *gulp* early Satyricon, but WITTR's musical grandiosity lies not in the quasi-Wagnerian counterpuntal bombast of the aforementioned but rather in the smooth unfolding of songs from theme to theme; progressions are simpler yet more fluid, the grandeur subtler yet even more engaging. Their black metal is a prime example of that rarest of species where the distinct synergy of hooking riff-o-genic atmospherics and emergent ethereal ambiance becomes a commanding driving force of mood and song development - much like what Drudkh and Ulver did in ‘Autumn Aurora’ and ‘Bergtatt’ respectively. But comparisons should end here, since both noted bands had different aesthetical conceptualisations in mind. Accordingly, in terms of sheer instrumental proficiency, there's nothing really groundbreaking here, what stands out rather is their compositional strategy in that they fully understand the building blocks that might otherwise constitute a generic black metal album and reconstruct them from the ground-up in an effectively seamless integration of style and form allowing even relatively foreign elements such as doom and ambient to burrow through un-blemished. Indeed, although a majority of the album's constituents (most notably its rhythmical dynamics) may have been channelled straight from the aesthetical fountainhead of Burzum, its sound doesn't need to resort to harsh textures and low-fi dissonance. On the contrary, the warm, expansive production allows for a harmonic resonance that aptly envelopes the -quite familiar- tonality of their elongated guitar-themed passages. As a matter of fact, ‘Two Hunters’ stylistically is more than just an extrapolation of Burzum's expressionistic artistry but a unique and solidly coagulated rendering of the basic essentials and they achieve this with a jaw-dropping flair that puts 99% of a typical black metal collection to shame.

Despite the above, and well-deserved might I add, accolades one shouldn't approach this musical platter as plain black metal, slapping it on his/her CD-player, listening to it a couple of times and then returning to his/her trite little world. It is a delicately higher and more holistic experience. Set against a natural, tree-laden landscape the music becomes a most mesmerising and befitting commentary on the listener's tranquil surroundings - a musical paean to what Thoreau described as the "refreshing, un-subdued presence of natural wildness".

For the few that understand black metal as something more than a mere nominal denotation this offering is wholeheartedly recommended - the rest probably never did. 

(originally written for Diabolical Conquest - spring 2008)

Enshadowed/Thornspawn - 6 Black Candles, 6 Rotting Hearts, 6 Sacrifices for Satan (Zyklon-B, 2007)

Well lookie what the cat dragged in... Right, if you're a fan of Thornspawn you might as well skip this part – slap this baby on your CD-player, turn up the volume and sit back while this searing split incinerates any remaining nerve cells you've got left and once again leave you with that familiar grin of stupefied satisfaction. For the few (or many?) who've never before heard of Thornspawn let me take a different approach than most: instead of cataloguing their usual merits and/or peeves, parading the ever-so hackneyed epithets such as "furious", "blasphemous" et al in the process, I’ll employ a negative ontology of sorts. First of all Thornspawn don’t give a shit. They don’t care if they sound "the same" or if they sound like "a hair dryer stuck in the maximum setting”. They don’t care if their output to date doesn’t follow the zeitgeist of their niche either - things like "trendy" and "conformity" are terms they have been estranged with for a long, long time now. Thornspawn don’t like melody. Period. Thornspawn's drummer doesn’t so much play as blast and their vocalist doesn’t so much sing as growl/shriek/scream as if his bollocks were set ablaze. Thornspawn are most certainly NOT available for children's parties. Thornspawn aren’t exactly sheep prancing gleefully amidst the flock. As a matter of fact, within this particular context they'd probably be some disease-stricken wolf that not only maims and kills any unlucky quadruped that might un-knowingly cross its way but also finds some inexplicable joy in pissing on its headless carcass. And finally Thornspawn don’t like you - yes YOU; they want you dead and they want you NOW. Now that we got this rather tongue-slightly-in-cheek prelude out of the way, let me clarify that I’m not your typical, zealous Thornspawn fan. Far from it. Although their signature album ‘Wrath of War’ - especially - has enjoyed quite a lot of spin time on my CD-player, I wouldn’t generally describe them as the ideal afternoon pastime nowadays. Nevertheless, on their side of this musical dish they effectively maintain their high-octane, abrasive style. Indeed, from a strictly compositional perspective, they haven’t changed much: lead by a raw percussive delivery, they’ve dutifully retained their old-school Possessed-cum-Tormentor-tainted edge (sans the solos…), albeit in some parts admittedly more prominent than others. However there is a distinctive shift in their textural set-up since they’ve opted for a thinner and 'treblier' guitar tone thus conferring their sound with a more razor-sharp/angular quality. Alrighty then, ‘nuff said; now unto Enshadowed...

Now this certainly is a blast from the past. I remember when I first came across their demo ‘Cremation Odes’ some 8 years ago. For the more romantically inclined black metal aficionados, their black metal at the time was a riveting conflation of Norwegian aggression and Swedish melodicism. Gradually afterwards the inevitable happened: the death metal virus struck and it slowly and steadily metastasized, eventually by their album “Intensity”, taking hold of just about everything, from rhythm section to guitar work at the expense of their erstwhile engaging emotiveness. Surprisingly enough though, on this very split where I’d expect them to just sit back, bite their nails and watch with perverse admiration while Thornspawn mercilessly plow through yet another helpless virgin, Enshadowed pound forth with relentless percussion and string-propelled thrust. They even manage to steal the center-stage more than a few times with a boisterous combination of militant dynamics and dissonant, straight-up riffage which is quite reminiscent of Arkhon Infaustus and even Antaeus from their later catalogue. As a matter of fact, the abovementioned signifies a deviation of their stylistic axis towards a more Gallo-Swedish tangent – which progressively perhaps is the best step they could’ve made.

I could’ve easily ended the review here but oddly enough there is still something nagging me at the back of my mind that my writer’s conscience (is there such a thing now? I wonder…) won’t allow me to dispense with. The fact is both bands deliver the goods with a febrile tenacity and technical conviction which, ipso facto, elevate them above a mediocre stature. But at the end of the day what we have with this aesthetical hyperbole is yet another bucket-load of the same, re-re-regurgitated ideology that ultimately smashes itself against the inevitable cul-de-sac that befalls any artistic expression, of one form or another, that has outstretched its temporal prime. Especially when it comes to Thornspawn, no matter what retro-traditionalist brand you might want to bestow upon these sort of offerings, such as “true”, ”cult” or whatever, after a couple of listens they sound monochromatic and tiring to my desensitized ears. Yeap, it’s good stuff but not really my cup of tea. Not anymore.

(originally written for Diabolical Conquest - 2008)

Celestine - At the Borders of Arcadia (Milkweed Records, 2008)

 

Celestine; remember the name folks. Six songs running for a smidgen over 24 minutes, each packing enough wallop to demolish a 3-storey building. Being the stylistic cognate of Cult of Luna, Pelican and like-minded acts, their music belongs to that selective niche of outfits that manage to pour their genuine psychological undertide of anger and tumultuous introspection into throbbing, effervescent compositions. Songs off the EP exhibit a prime distillation of that vintage melodicism – now I've picked my words carefully here, "distil" is a far cry from "plagiarise". Nevertheless, their song development is more concise comparatively; they might lack the post-rockish, dynamic crescendos of mid-late Isis or even Cult of Luna but what with their continuously energising content that simply writhes with waves of engaging melodies, they make for an emotionally seething musical output indeed.

Immediately striking is the tight grasp the band has over its intended style and form. Musical dynamics don't ebb and flow carelessly according to some contrived, generic template but with confident control by means of an over- arching structural plan. An emergent quality of this sort of discipline is something I perhaps value more than anything in a metal record: organic fluidity - and this band has it in spades. The vocals are harsh like the kind where you think the guy's throat lining must be made out of sand-paper. They generally remain on par with the overall quality of this musical delivery - piercing and appropriately angst-ridden. What's even more delightfully promising is that if this cherry-popping entrant is their base, then extrapolated over the course of their compositional evolution…well, the sky's the limit. Such is the nature of the aesthetical fabric out of which this musical tapestry is intricately woven that any convolutions it might be subdued to can only add to its essence.

The layered juxtaposition of harmonic counterpoint and complex time signatures (the usual 4/4 format is often eschewed herein) pretty much guarantee that this particular musical experience will be a demanding and stimulating one. Indeed, it's not easily digestible matter for the passer-by, non-cognoscenti that might decide to give it a try so you might need to clench your teeth firmly on this one before it 'grows' on you.

Celestine as a band is quite stressing, if not down-right impossible to pigeon-hole; their music simply refuses to be shackled by some trite categorisation. There’s one epithet I’d go for though: crushing. Definitely an outfit I don’t expect to settle down with just being 'yet another band' and I wouldn't be too surprised if Hydra Head snatches up them up for their debut either - now there's a little something to look out for in the time to come, surely.


(originally written for Diabolical Conquest webzine - 2008)

John 3:16 - Self-titled (Alrealon Musique, 2008)

 

Pop this CD in some appropriate playing device. Assume the lotus position in a comfortable setting. Gently close your eyelids and breath rhythmically but naturally, counting one to five while inhaling and doing the same while exhaling. Repeat. This is basically the only way I got this platter of experimental ambient music to 'work' for me. Having it as a background accompaniment while doing the bills won't do much - if anything it will distract you quite irritatingly from the task at hand. No, the optimum means by which your mind will embrace the entire gamut of the music’s psychological effects is to fully immerse into it. And this is natural considering that there aren’t really any catchy hooks or stand-out verses that you can sing along while taking a shower; this is serious, even intimidating business.

Evidently enough, John 3:16 bears a distinctly religious tone. But this needn't necessarily mean that it takes a dogmatic stand against modern secularism but rather an explorative meditation on the pertinent themes of redemption and fideism. The album makes use of different elements and it sounds coalesced enough for it to carry its own particular brand of bona fide out-thereness without borrowing too much from its aesthetical influences. The future of the band also seems promising since the bedrock of the artistic direction undertaken herein is quite fertile for further experimentation. There is a structure of sorts; even a subtle oriental scale is being followed at certain points. Holistic context is of the essence; no crescendo, no compositional fragment, no facet of the music can be appreciated here solely on its own accord.

Although emerging patterns betray their minimalist core the expansive progression of the compositions is far from static. Amidst bowel-churning low frequencies and hypnotically repetitive motifs, there is a discernible élan vital that suffuses the album, unfolding the music continuously in flowing motion. Rhythm becomes transparent; time increasingly non-discrete. There may even be episodic instances where that seemingly innate sense of perisomatic space will partially collapse due to the music's knack for inducing trippy states of mind. I'm hypothesising (rather tentatively) that this is because of the disorientating harmonic dissonance caused by viscous stratums of spaced-out ambient textures superimposed against psychotropic, keyboard-laden dronescapes. At more uncomfortable times the listening endeavor can be like being trapped between the Scylla of forbidding trepidation and the Charybdis of confounding sensory overload. Or maybe it's just me. Who knows/cares. Point is that next to Endura's ‘Black Eden’ and Sunn-O)))’s ‘White1’ this is definitely one album I wouldn’t recommend one to listen to while being on shrooms or some mescaline derivative.

(originally written for Diabolical Conquest webzine - 2008)