Nechochwen – Spelewithiipi Review

By Killjoy

It can be healthy for artists to periodically take time to reset and remember what first compelled them to start creating music. Aaron Carey originally founded Nechochwen in West Virginia as an unostentatious acoustic guitar project paying homage to his Native American lineage. It didn’t take long for black metal influence to emerge and with the addition of Andrew D’Cagna as the rhythm section, the two styles proved a potent pairing to explore the cultural history sewn into every note. 2015’s Heart of Akamon was well-received in the metal community and by our Vice Overlord Steel Druhm, who later went on to underrate their very good1 follow-up Kanawha Black. During all this time,2 Nechochwen had been quietly working on Spelewithiipi, a fully instrumental acoustic folk album akin to their debut full-length Algonkian Mythos. Can Nechochwen come full circle and revisit an older style without feeling like a step backward?

Nechochwen was always more inclined to reach for an acoustic guitar than an electric, but Spelewithiipi takes it a step further. Carey’s multi-tracked acoustic guitars enjoy near total exclusivity, plucking and strumming along like a bolder variation of older (and newer) October Falls. This is something of a double-edged sword—there is little to distract from the graceful guitar melodies, but the emotive burden of proof falling solely upon one instrument can be a challenging songwriting prospect. This may be why similar-minded neofolk albums from Thurnin and Wÿntër Ärvń in recent months opted to diversify with various other folk instrumentation, and Spelewithiipi follows suit, albeit sparingly. Here and there, indigenous drum beats (“Lenawe’owiin,” “Spelewithiipi,” “Primordial Passage”), a full drum kit (“Precipice of Stone”), and a gentle flute (“Lenawe’owiin,” “Spelewithiipi”) provide embellishment. This pared-back instrumentation is an important part of Spelewithiipi’s reverent, intimate nature.

At this point in his career, Carey can wring seemingly every ounce of breadth and depth from his weapon of choice. The acoustic guitar lines, usually appearing in pairs, flow and breathe as they fluctuate in intensity and complexity. Sometimes they’re straightforward, with clear lead and rhythm roles (“Nemacolin’s Path,” “Spelewithiipi”). Elsewhere, Nechochwen weaves multiple distinct melodies together into a more elegant soundscape (“Tpwiiwe,” “Precipice of Stone”). Unsurprisingly, the music is intrinsically bonded with nature, the rain sounds in “Othaškwa’alowethi behme” adding a mystical effect to the stream of twanging guitar notes. The best and most passionate performance lies in “Mthothwathiipi,” which features a gentle, cascading tune that gives way to vigorous fingerpicking laced with percussive slaps. The immense skill on display almost convinces me that Nechochwen might be better off in this unplugged realm.

Almost. Like a phantom limb, I find it impossible not to miss Nechochwen’s black metal side. In my view, their appeal mainly stemmed from the meticulous melding of acoustic folk with metal, not either component taken individually. Therefore, an attempt to decouple them was, perhaps, destined to yield a diminished result. Even setting aside genre preferences, Spelewithiipi lacks much of the structure and focus from when Nechochwen were grounded in black metal conventions. The first half of the record fares better thanks to more developed melodies, whereas the back half feels more barren and aimless (particularly “Primordial Passage”), but nearly every song suffers to some extent from rocky transitions or promising ideas cut short. With fewer musical handholds on Spelewithiipi, the overall songwriting needed to be more coherent and engaging to make up the difference.

Spelewithiipi is not an immediate album; it invites rather than seizes the listener’s attention. Accordingly, fans of Nechochwen’s recent work will likely need to manage expectations and exercise patience. As I spent time with it and let go of what I wanted to hear from Nechochwen, I gained greater appreciation of what they created. Aaron Carey plays heartfelt, stirring acoustic guitar lines the likes of which I’ve never heard before, and I’m in awe of his instrumental mastery. Yet, even the best guitarwork on Spelewithiipi is not quite as captivating as that of Heart of Akamon or Kanawha Black. This, plus the relinquishment of metal influence and its short 31-minute runtime, make it hard to see Spelewithiipi as a complete Nechochwen record. But, even so, this is still a pleasant walk through the woods worth taking.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 13 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: nechochwen-nordvis.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/nechochwen
Releases Worldwide: May 9th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmericanMetal #DarkFolk #DarkNeofolk #Folk #Instrumental #May25 #Nechochwen #NordvisProduktion #NotMetal #OctoberFalls #Review #Reviews #Spelewithiipi #Thurnin #WÿntërÄrvń

Alukta – Merok Review

By Dear Hollow

When the phrase “ritualistic” is used in metal, my immediate thought is darkness. Haunted fire, pulsing rhythms, eerie chanting, and the opaque blessings of hateful gods spring to mind, a noisy and terrifying descent into madness. Rarely do I think of the music Alukta offers. While tagged as “ritualistic black doom,” this is no Batushka or Death. Void. Terror. You won’t find the same emphasis on diminished chord progressions, the frightful voices cursing the pitch-black abyss, or the shadow of religion casting a pall across the proceedings. Alukta instead offers a sound that is transcendental and gentle, a representation of grief and passage with the dead among the living.

Alukta is a Belgian/French duo consisting of the renowned Déhà, whose long list of quality projects goes without saying,1 and Marie of Brouillard and 1927 – both of whom are also sole members of atmoblack band Transcending Rites. The act formidably utilizes Déhà’s history of doom, whose weight is derived from emotive progressions, as well as Marie’s knack for hypnotic blackened passages converging in a graceful expression of grief and devastation. Debut Merok takes influence after the Torajan people of Indonesia, particularly their funeral rites: from the placement of mummified bodies among everyday routines, elaborate and lengthy rituals to ensure their safe and gradual passage to the afterlife Puya, to the mass machete slaughter of water buffalo, pigs, and chickens as gifts to the dead on their journey. While Merok lacks the teeth you typically think of in doom-inflected black metal, Alukta’s melodic signature and sonic representations of grief and devastation warrant a look.

First and foremost, Alukta feels remarkably respectful in its debut. Guided by sustained guitar melodies and raw production anchored by thunderous dirge-like doom percussion, it feels ritualistic without feeling unnecessarily sinister. The Torajan people’s relationship with death is complex, an expression of crippling grief and uproarious celebration in equal measure, and Merok succeeds in capturing this in a sound that feels nearly gentle in its rendezvous. Déhà and Marie both lend their harsh vocals and cleans, and the tremolo is unmistakably influenced by second-wave, but that melody and a heavy dosage of ritualistic elements in chanting and pulsing percussion add dimension and complexity that represent it well. That’s not to say that there aren’t moments of fury or darkened progressions, but Alukta ensures balance and restraint. From explosive crescendos building ritualistic elements (“Matampu’,” “Kombengi”) to heart-wrenching melodies (“Lassez enter ceux qui pleurent,” “Des Teintes d’éternité”) and the more ominous and haunting leads that sway between yearning and furious (“Aluk To Dolo,” “Exuvia”), the album is purposefully written and gracefully executed.

While it is very much the point of the album, Alukta lacks the teeth that give doom its impact or black metal its rawness. You will find few riffs within Merok’s particular ritual, and the “heavier” passages owe their weight to more minor chord progressions and diminished leads, and that can drag over the album’s relatively short runtime. Those looking for the next Death. Void. Terror. or The Ruins of Beverast, will be disappointed in the relatively toothless sound, but may be swayed by the shifted focus – the gravity is implied through the emotion it invokes rather than the riffs Alukta offers. Its multilayered attack makes its sound mammoth in overlapping ritualistic chanting or vocals and drums, but aside from the thundering snare, the weight is not a metallic one, recalling more so the likes of Ianai or Heilung.

While Alukta does not meet expectations for your latest trek to scream into the abyss, that does not necessarily mean it’s not worth your time. Merok is evocative and devastating in its own way without utilizing black’s rawness nor doom’s weight to communicate ritual and grief, relying on yearning melodies and chord progressions instead. For those expecting to be slaughtered like water buffalo in the traditional trademarks of the genre hallmarks, look elsewhere. However, suppose you’re intrigued by the prospects of a beautiful and gentle expression of devastation and pain in another culture’s complex relationship with death, through Déhà and Marie’s patient songwriting and performances. In that case, Merok holds treasure abound – for this life and maybe the next.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcendance
Websites: Too kvlt for webz
Releases Worldwide: May 2nd, 2025

#1927 #2025 #30 #Alukta #Batushka #BlackMetal #Brouillard #DeathVoidTerror_ #DoomMetal #Folk #Heilung #Ianai #InternationalMetal #May25 #Merok #Review #Reviews #Slow #TheRuinsOfBeverast #Transcendance #TranscendingRites #Yhdarl