Is Black Metal Coming of Age?

The case of the French decadents and the Ukrainian romantics:
Deathspell Omega and Drudkh

"Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy."
-- Ludwig van Beethoven

 

This article is concentric with regards to its contents, i.e. it will primarily revolve around two prime examples of what I, and perhaps others, would term as 'intelligent black metal', and then attempt to infer whether or not the aesthetics in question are a natural continuation of the genre itself or a fundamental re-elucidation of the real potency that the genre can carry. Before I embark, I must make it clear that the importance of other like-minded bands that have not been included in this article should not be overshadowed, and that these two bands in question were selected because they are the most representative of the issue that I'm stressing herein.

Akin to the laws of natural selection, there comes a pivotal point in the course of a musical genre's chronicle where it is confronted with two choices: it can either evolve and persist, or wither and die. The case of black metal is still debatable; many a devoted fan will instantly quip that "black metal died with Euronymous", "black metal only existed between 1989 and 1994", "no more 'evil' atmosphere", "not true enough", "not kvlt enough" et cetera, et cetera. From my own standpoint, I believe black metal has matured and streamlined its means of musical clarity in many ways; one need only look at the quantity and quality of bands that surface these days. However, I don't believe that it has fully realized its true potential, as an Art form first and foremost, and as a musical genre under the Metal banner second. Not yet, at least.

First of all, how does one define black metal? Every one of its impassioned listeners undoubtedly know, albeit at an intuitive level, that what they're listening to is black metal; but let us delve beyond the musical phenomenon, beyond the tremolo riffing, the double-bass, the low-fi production and the primeval shrieks, beyond the perceived aspect of the music itself, and into its very core, which speaks directly to the subconscious.
"Misanthropy", "nihilistic enmity", "hatred": these words have been used extensively and interchangeably to describe the emotive inspirations that drive the music itself. But these words are quite generic, and in themselves inadequate. Furthermore, the fundamental fallacy of any such argument is to confuse a cause for an effect and vice versa; "misanthropy" and "hatred" are both emotive excrescences of the same psychological predisposition. Now, how about a fine slab of existential angst the French way?

"But if there is a meaning? Today I don't know what it is. Tomorrow? Tomorrow, who can tell me? Am I going to find out what it is? No, I can't conceive of any 'meaning' other than 'my' anguish, and as for that, I know all about it. And for the time being: nonsense. Monsieur Nonsense is writing and understands that he is mad. It's atrocious."

"My thought is me: that's why I can't stop. I exist because I think... and I can't stop myself from thinking. At this very moment -- it's frightful -- if I exist, it is because I am horrified at existing. I am the one who pulls myself from the nothingness to which I aspire."

The former is quoted from the lyrics of a Deathspell Omega song, titled "Diabolus Absconditus"; the latter is from Sartre's literary existentialist masterpiece, "Nausea". Introspectively, what one might infer by juxtaposing the two segments is the common inherent realization, the abrupt dissociation and dismantling of an individual's world of apparent order and reason. Now, here is Camus from his infamous "Myth of Sisyphus" essay:

"If this myth [of Sisyphus] is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious. Where would his [Sisyphus'] torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him? The workman of today works everyday in his life at the same tasks, and his fate is no less absurd. But it is tragic only at the rare moments when it becomes conscious. Sisyphus, proletarian of the gods, powerless and rebellious, knows the whole extent of his wretched condition: it is what he thinks of during his descent."

And Deathspell Omega yet again from "Diabolus Absconditus":
"Would it all be absurd? Or might it make some kind of sense? I've made myself sick wondering about it. I awake in the morning -- just the way millions do, millions of boys, girls, infants and old men, their slumber dissipated forever... These millions, those slumbers have no meaning"

But wait! These sentiments were the prime tenets of the finest of fin de siècle French literature and 20th century existentialism -- how did they find themselves in the noosphere of black metal so many decades later? Through what crack did these ideas burrow? What was it in the fundamental nature of black metal that allowed such a deep-seeded emotion, deeply buried within the subconscious, to be expressed musically?

This conscious descent the band members that comprise DsO have taken, much like Camus' absurd hero, is integral with respect to the issue herein. In doing so, they have managed to transcend the very ideology and aesthetics that were originally thought to have spawned black metal in the first place. They have gone to see "what causes the shadow", instead of "lingering in the shadow" itself, to borrow a more Platonic allegory. In the case of the French blacksters, the ideology has strayed far and beyond the Satanic imagery of yore, it has surpassed self-indulgent LaVey-an tomfoolery, and has reached the subconscious fountainhead of the genre that links the sensual and the psycho-cognitive world.

Was black metal ever capable of achieving this? Let us look back to early Bathory: in _Under the Sign of the Black Mark_ we have harsh musicianship and a profoundly enraptured Quorthon with the dark and the Satanic. One could say that the flood gates were finally opened to a grey area of our minds that very few dare speak of. Then come Celtic Frost with their avant-garde masterpiece, To Mega Therion, which was simply sublime musically and essentially set the plainfield for the genre.

Fast-forward now to Burzum, and the quintessential albums _Hvis Lyset Tar oss_ and Filosofem. How could anyone exude in such a clear and transcendental manner the sentiment of existential alienation without possessing that very experience I'm referring to in the first place? And finally Deathspell Omega: for the first time there is a premeditated direction in the form of an actual philosophical inquiry. Here the debate on the existence or non-existence of a Divine Being, the doubt of Reason's plenitude and, last and not least, the apprehension in dealing with these questions are systematically analyzed and inquired upon and ultimately channeled through the musical medium; they are not masqueraded with vain idolatry or superficial mysticism.

These bands, and of course others that have gone unmentioned for the sake of brevity, have done the genre a service -- each in its own way at different stages in its evolution, not necessarily in terms of sheer musical exploitation but in terms of pure Art, where the genre has been broadened aesthetically to be more inclusive of more serious matters.

Onwards now to Drudkh, who from their titular description one might assume them of being of a more benign nature. Nonetheless, Drudkh are romantic in the Dionysian sense. The music therein is restless but bound like a blithesome, belligerent horse into an ephemeral submission by the daedal artistic dexterity of its creators.

Again Drudkh's aesthetical fountainhead, as with DsO's case, lies deeply within the subconscious, but it has taken a different turn in contemplation. Here the musicians, by primarily drawing aspiration from folk pride and tradition, have shed light on the very tragedy of what it is to exist and the perennial struggle to maintain that state, and more importantly to perpetuate unto posterity the few things that a man can hold dear -- his values, his ideas -- against the elements and adversity.

This struggle, this dramatic cycle that countless generations have followed, has never before been so finely crystallized as in their latest opus, Blood in Our Wells, an exquisitely epic musical phantasmagoria of sound and emotion. Epic because of its boldness and uplifting cadence, and exquisite because of the pure means by which the music reaches the listener. Although despondent and bleak in tone, it showcases the tenacity of Man through the ages, the sacrifices he has taken, the blood he has spilt and the cries of his dead. Yes, Drudkh's offerings are delectable threnodies in their own accord, with a touching and yet subtle overtone of pride.

Are Deathspell Omega and Drudkh proof that black metal can migrate from its stagnated ideological background and settle unto more fertile grounds? Or are these bands nothing more than a fading glint? Alas, this calls for yet another long-favored cliché among writers: time will tell. But be it as it may, the one sure thing is that at last -- after a near two-and-a-half decades -- black metal artistry has reached a very interesting plateau of resourcefulness in its history which may prove defining in its evolutionary course. 

(originally written for Chronicles of Chaos - 18/12/2006)

The Oath - The End of Times (Shark Records, 2007)

 

It's been a while since I was introduced to an up-and-coming band with such a convincing debut. The Oath deliver the goods with precision and conviction with “The End Of Times”. I've really enjoyed this album from beginning to end, what with its elegant and bolstering usage of keyboards, its "crunchy" and clear production and its powerful dynamics it simply can't fall anything short of a high quality product. The album’s cohesive and well-structured songs, propelled by the aptly-used keyboards, give off a convincing demeanor; the kind of quality that emanates from performers who know what they want to do with their music and how to achieve it. They also artfully position moments of that heavy metal edge, subtly reminiscent of Hellenic black metal’s earliest black/heavy amalgamations such as Deviser, Varathron et al. The symphonic black metal inspired effervescence that effuses from the songs also strengthens the final impact. Arguably, there isn’t much to be said on the originality department but there is a line between sounding like a banal regurgitation and a fine specimen of black/dark metal and like any band worth their salt The Oath definitely belong to the latter and this is an enjoyable effort at the very least.

 (originally written for Tartarean Desire - 2007?)

(V.E.G.A.) - Cocaine (Debemur Morti, 2006)

 

(V.E.G.A.) are not the ones for a popularity contest. If it hadn't been for this re-issue by Debemur Morti four years after its initial release, Cocaine most probably would be still meandering amidst the lowest planes of obscurity.I must say Cocaine is an interesting album. The fact that they artistically exhibit, as emanated through the album, an intransigent indifference to safe formulaic approaches is definitely to their credit. So what happens when genuine human emotion is distilled, purified and extracted in its purest audial form? What happens when pain and despair are the only constituents of such an artistic concoction? These may seem banal questions, but they are indeed pertinent upon first listening to Cocaine.
 
As one first engages unto the album's musical cataclysm, he or she might wonder if this inhuman, almost mechanic delivery is the product of some sentient cyborg bereft of anything remotely human. But alas, that sense of anguish spilling out between every played note from the album's bleak compositions reassuringly convince us otherwise, since it is only within the human soul that we find such an abyss.
 
Cocaine is not a conservative album; it incisively adheres to insanely fast tempos and ear-bleeding riffage to rip through the listeners any remaining shred of hope, as well as using finely placed electro beats and synthesizer based passages, which are a steady and important accompaniment to both the album's speed frenzies and slower segments. The paroxysmal nature of the wafer-thin guitar-based compositions can be interestingly invigorating, allowing only a glimpse, thankfully, of the delusional world of a drug-addict. Slightly Anaal Nathrakh-esque in style, although mostly stuck in neck-snapping speeds, they tenaciously hold your attention until the album hits the finish mark. Essentially, black metal here is subjugated, deformed and assimilated in such a manner that it becomes a mere battered medium to convey something maleficent and ominous, lurking somewhere in the subconscious' dark antipodes that few dare even to air out.
 
Steeped in human angst and percolated through a cold, calculating mind, the final extract, Cocaine, is more of a malediction viciously directed against anything hopeful and beautiful, or perhaps an inner confession even, which for any unprepared listener can become quite a harrowing trip indeed. 
 

Contact: http://www.vega-korporation.com

 (originally written for Chronicles of Chaos - 20/6/2006)

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)