In the Woods… – Otra Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

Oh, yay, I get to review In the Woods…!! How I haven’t reviewed them before is beyond me. I must have been in the bathroom or something. I’ve been jamming to these guys forever, which led me to another favorite band: Green Carnation. As stated before by Z and Ferox, these Norwegians are an odd bunch that can’t quite figure out what they want to be, like gender confusion but genre confusion. After almost four decades in business, they’ve tinkered with everything from black to doom to progressive metal. As of 2022’s Diversum, In the Woods… has pretty much combined all their genre influences into one. In some cases, it works; in other cases, it’s a touch messy. That said, I think I liked Diversum more than Ferox because I thought the individual songs came together nicely to create the album, though there were obvious issues with some of the tracks. Some of it might be the new singer on staff. Or, it could be the songwriting as a whole. But Fjellestad is a solid addition to the crew, returning once again for this year’s Otra. The question is, will we see another side of In the Woods…, or will they finally reel in their influences to release something stunning?

One thing I can say that should please those who weren’t quite thrilled with the new vocalist on Diversum is that Fjellestad and the band have come quite a way since 2022. I’m not saying the vocals are better (because he’s a good vocalist), but the performance and songwriting are stronger on Otra. It might be because this time around, the album has a theme that connects the songs. Personifying the Otra river in Norway, the album flows through tumultuous rapids and sputtering streams, bringing the water molecules together for a forty-five-minute rafting trip. Now that we are in a boat instead of the forest, will Otra supply a soothing mist to my face or give me… wood? Wait.

“The Things You Shouldn’t Know” begins right away with gentle guitars and soothing vocals before it erupts into harsh vox and a grooving black metal lick. As this eight-plus-minute beauty builds, it alternates between Green Carnation-like passages and Borknagar/Vintersorg-esque black metal blasts. You’ll also find passionate guitar leads here (and elsewhere on the album) that push the vocals to soaring heights. The bigness only gets bigger when a second voice partners with Fjellestad in the final chorus. “The Crimson Crown” is another biggun that opens with pleasing keys that morph into a blanket of atmoblack riffage before cruising into a bass-led verse. Then, the song explodes into a Borknagar-ish chorus with alternating clean and harsh vox that works so damn well. One of the song’s coolest sections involves a calmness over the water, where Fjellestad adds subtle movement to his voice that adds layers to the music.

Other stellar tracks are “Let Me Sing” and the closing number, “The Wandering Deity.” The closer expands on that vocal wizardry of “The Crimson Crown” by hypnotizing the airwaves with vibrato. This slick addition makes the song’s final chorus that much more impactful. Being less than six minutes in length, this song sure as hell does a lot. Using a Green Carnation foundation, it slithers its way through dark, black metal riffage, gorgeous melodies, and even some black ‘n’ roll a la Carpathian Forest. “Let Me Sing” begins as an innocent piece, introducing it with muffled keys. That’s until the sinister mid-paced chug comes in, accompanied by a surprising vocal arrangement that brings to mind Type O Negative and The Vision Bleak. This song is one of the better tracks at alternating between clean and harsh. I also can’t move on without mentioning the bass work. Not only is it more prominent than other tracks, but nothing quite gets me erect like a bass slide.

The track that does not do well at alternating between the soft and hard sections is “The Kiss and the Lie.” While not a terrible track, its transitions feel forced and awkward, making it difficult to enjoy compared to the other pieces. “Come Ye Sinners” almost suffers the same fate, but the performances make up for it in the back half to save it. While Otra would do better with a more dynamic master, I can’t deny that the songwriting and vocal performances are some of the best in this new era of In the Woods… Taking what they learned from Diversum and polishing it up, this outing is a tight, seven-track affair and one of my favorites of theirs. Though, it’s damn near impossible to achieve what they did in the past, Otra is a pleasing listen and well worth a spin for In the Woods… enthusiasts.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: in-the-woods.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/inthewoods
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Apr25 #AvantGarde #BlackMetal #Borknagar #CarpathianForest #GothicMetal #GreenCarnation #InTheWoods #NorwegianMetal #Otra #ProgressiveMetal #ProphecyProductions #Review #Reviews #TheVisionBleak #TypeONegative #Vintersorg

Yer Metal Is Olde: Enslaved – Isa

By Dolphin Whisperer

Not a single band out there really sounds like Enslaved—arguably modern Enslaved records included, many of which have landed mixed in these halls. But one thing is consistent in the Angry Metal Guy message: Enslaved’s peak period produced timeless records that should sit atop the rankings of many a list. For many, myself included, that run extends from 2003’s Below the Lights to 2008’s Vertebrae, each incorporating different progressive and psychedelic ideas into Enslaved’s already idiosyncratic black metal approach.

Isa sits at a crossroads. Under the tutelage of Dennis Reksten, who had teamed up with Enslaved at the ripe age of 50,1 the past few albums received a smattering of spacey synth ambience that allowed Enslaved to explore a new dimension in their craft, culminating in 2003’s Below the Lights. But for Isa Enslaved looked to the electronic and crooning talents of Herbrand Larsen, a young audio engineer who had helped those same albums animate and glisten. The shift in personnel brought with it a shift in drama. Not to say that prior works had lacked that kind of tension, but with lesser Viking swagger,2 Isa rolls in its atmosphere through alien soundscapes and vicious harsh vocal cut-ins, with Grutle Kjellson’s inimitable, phlegmy rasp sitting dead center between twisting guitar lines and Larsen’s background counterpoint. No matter how strange and beautiful, Isa remains rooted in the brooding nature of Enslaved’s wintery, black metal identity.

In a manner that eludes many who play for Enslaved’s crown, Isa boasts a brilliant and otherworldly sense of guitar tone that provides and slice and crunch to heroic compositions. Bolstered frequencies lift the snarl of creeping tremolo runs with the weight of Kjellson’s crackling howls into reckoning rolls of Heimdall-weighed power (“Lunar Force,” “Violet Drawing”). Harmonic, heavy-handed, trv metal chords crash down with a classic, grooving beat to swirl a patterned Norse fury among pained wails and into resplendent, progressive modulations (“Bounded by Allegiance,” “Return to Yggdrasil”). Still Enslaved finds a firm footing in black metal, forging Bathory-infused riffage with anthemic tension and classic head-stacked energy to break up any lull in mood that Isa’s narrative lilts present (“Isa,” “Secrets of the Flesh”). And when fresh-at-the-time axe-slinger Ice Dale (Audrey Horne) slips loose with treble-knockin’, tricky blues solos (“Bounded…,” “Neogenesis”), his free and flamboyant style oozes with charisma.

Isa’s breakout and break-though progressive escapades give it the full life force for which Enslaved had been aiming with their earlier experimentations. Though never quite as out there as Norwegian neighbors Borknagar or Arcturus, Enslaved sense of cinema expanded through Isa via bookend atmospherics (“Intro,” “Outro”) and similarly-toned chord reprisals that reinforce the empyrean vibrations throughout every track. The gentle piano punctuation on “Lunar Force” gives shimmering, moonlight assist to the already gothic allure of its foremost stride. You can feel the arena swing that the now legendary, leaned-back Dale supplies to “Isa” and “Bounded by Allegiance” part in reverence to chorus breakaways, harmonized chants, and fluttering acoustics, only to return with additional amplified impact—crushing and unified attack. Isa lives on the edge of crescendo, with its first potential peak (“Bounded…”) ending in a hard stop before yet another catastrophic riff climb, which allows its twelve-minute epic “Neogenesis” the proper environment to build, to soar, to entrance with the majesty that it should. While no strangers to epic narrative, Enslaved used Isa to cement their legacy as masters.

If you ask a dozen Enslaved fans who find their aughts work to be their pinnacle, you may not always hear Isa come out as the dominant choice and for good reason. Much of the songwriting flex that Isa showcases presents in different fashions on many of this celebrated band’s works in that time frame. Whether the stronger gallop of Below the Lights, the heavier-handed psychedelia of Monumension or Ruun, or the near pure progressive romp of Vertebrae, Enslaved has many faces that they’ve worn well and better than other bands. But Isa stands alone for me as the balance of collective visions in the form of a well-armored black metal warrior—an album worthy of adoration from diverse angles of metallic enjoyment.

#2004 #2024 #BlackMetal #Enslaved #Isa #NorwegianMetal #ProgressiveBlackMetal #ProgressiveMetal #TabuRecordings #VikingMetal #YerMetalIsOlde

Purified in Blood – Primal Pulse Thunder Review

By Cherd

I came of age, musically and otherwise1 in the American Midwest in the 90s. Like so many of my adolescent male peers who lacked cultural outlets for our instinctive angst around blue collar upbringings, I latched on to the exploding scene of hardcore and early metalcore. For the better part of a decade, I mainlined releases from record labels like Victory, Revelation, SolidState, et al, but by around 2002, the prevalence of screamo and my own shifting tastes pushed me down other musical paths. Small wonder, then, that I was unfamiliar with Norwegian metalcore purveyors Purified in Blood when I selected—with trepidation, given the metalcore tag—their new record Primal Pulse Thunder from the promo sump. As I have learned, Purified in Blood formed in 2003 and have dissolved and reformed multiple times since. We may have been ships passing in the night lo these many years, and my introduction to them may come on their fourth full-length, but now I’ve found them I’m pleasantly surprised.

Any fear that I was in for some weepy post-metalcore with nasally cleans disappeared as the d-beat drums and beatdown riffs of first advance single “Jernbur” filled my Heavys. This is tough guy hardcore, but without the cocky barked vocals of most bands I’d categorize that way. Instead, vocalist Hallgeir Skretting Enokssen has an enviable harsh delivery for both gang-shouts and the death growls he frequently slips into across Primal Pulse Thunder’s nine songs. In fact, hardcore may be the structure of Purified in Blood’s sound, but melodeath is the cladding. The style pops up all over, from the tremolo sprint in the otherwise knuckle-dragging title track, to the bridge in “Key and Stone,” to the the harmonized chorus in “Jernbur.” While the band started as hardcore (sorry) proponents of the straightedge ethos, resembling Earth Crisis in philosophy and in sound , the remaining members have since dropped the overt social politics of it lyrically. Instead, there’s a lot of rumination on transcending a world on fire, and no small amount of chest-thumping declarations.

There are significant strengths to discuss on Primal Pulse Thunder, but the most impressive is how hardcore and death metal serve each other as the band deftly blend or switch between the styles. The title track is a great case in point. Before listening to a single note, I read the album’s title and thought “that sounds stupid.” Those three words in that combination came across as try-hard toughness. But by packaging those words in a perfect blend of dummy caveman death riffs and slowed-down beatdown, the song has me wanting to see it played live so I can join in shouting “PRIMAL! PULSE! THUNDER!” And then there’s that late tremolo riff that packs tons of Amon Amarth swagger into the song as Enokssen roars “I refuse to be killed! Set fire to everything!” Purified in Blood know exactly what each of their two main styles are for, and they deliver several choice cuts of monstrously heavy metalcore.

That’s not to say Primal Pulse Thunder is a world beating record. It’s long for as much hardcore as it has at 50 minutes, and there is definitely bloat that wouldn’t be missed if it were cut. The two song stretch of “Ascend to Nothing” and “Spiritual Thirst” is where that trouble begins. The first of these is actually a welcome slow down after the white hot intensity of the tracks up until that point, with a nice mid-paced groove that helps the record breath. Unfortunately it’s followed by an even slower, more experimental song. “Spiritual Thirst” is the low point of the album, starting with un-asked for throat singing, stick clicking, and riff development that feels out of place among the otherwise tight writing. At nearly eight minutes, it’s also the second longest song on the album. The longest, 11 and a half minute closer “Portal,” fits the album much better, but it’s fair to say a song like standout “Jernbur” does everything “Portal” does, but in almost a third of the time.

Relatively minor bloat issues aside, Primal Pulse Thunder is a three word phrase that, despite it’s awkwardness on the page, now conjures for me the sweaty basement shows and the live-wire energy I experienced as a 20 year old. I remember friends at the time telling me “You can’t listen to this kind of music forever.” Oh, can’t I?

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: purifiedinblood.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/purifiedinblood
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Beatdown #DeathMetal #EarthCrisis #Hardcore #IndieRecordings #Mar25 #Melodeath #Metalcore #NorwegianMetal #PrimalPulseThunder #PurifiedInBlood #Review #Reviews

Wardruna – Birna Review

By Mystikus Hugebeard

Wardruna’s impact on the Nordic music sphere is difficult to exaggerate. The explosion in popularity of dark Nordic folk across the last decade can be heavily attributed to Wardruna’s music and their involvement with History Channel’s Vikings, and to this day they are Exhibit A of the genre. While the music may sound rooted in a specific culture and historical period, it has still resonated so deeply with people the world over regardless of ethnicity or nationality, myself included. My discovery of Wardruna as a young man had a profound impact on the development of my musical literacy, and they’ve since remained a critical part of my vocabulary. As such, for myself and for the world, the release of Wardruna’s newest album Birna carries some serious anticipation. So, how is it?

In all the right ways, Birna offers the same Viking-era folk music that Wardruna has provided since the beginning. Sawing taglharpas, the wistful yet powerful notes of a kraviklyra, the call of bukkehorns, and the deep reverberations of deer-hide drums; the full ensemble of Wardruna’s traditional, hand-crafted instruments lends an absorbing authenticity to their sound which is further brought to life by a sublime mix, done by composer Einar Selvik himself. As always, Selvik and co-founder Lindy-Fay Hella are a strong vocal duo; Selvik’s iconic voice is ever the focus, though Hella has what feels like a notably more active role in Birna than in previous albums. Birna is also a solid entry point for any readers discovering Wardruna for the first time, as the music encompasses all the stages of Wardruna’s sound. The vocal melodies and dark, brooding drone of “Tretale” hark back to the mysticism of Gap var Ginnunga and Yggdrasil, the dramatic horn blasts in “Birna” call to mind the finality of Ragnarok, and the skaldic beauty of Selvik and his lyre in “Hibjørnen” continues the pattern begun in Kvitravn and, more pertinently, Skald.

But Birna is more than a chronology of Wardruna’s evolution. Conceptually, Birna is a response to the upheaval suffered by bears in nature (Birna means “she-bear”), musically harnessing the bear’s natural strength and signaling a hopeful end to their forced hibernation through a motif of spring. The music of Birna radiates with intent, carefully constructing this idea across every element. It can be as small as warm, dancing flutes and Hella’s vocal melodies (“Ljos til Jord,” “Himinndotter”), or even just the chirping of birds (“Dvaledraumar,” “Jord til Ljos”), gently exuding a quiet optimism. Or it’s the awesome, primal majesty of the bear, viscerally felt through resounding horns, beating drums, or Selvik’s fervent vocals (“Hertan,” “Birna,” “Himinndotter,” “Skuggehesten”). I would describe it as a change in color; the dark, earthy green and brown of Wardruna’s music has begun to incorporate vibrant shades of orange and yellow. It’s a compelling shift in tone from Wardruna’s darker vibes of the past, and it works beautifully through the sincerity with which it’s performed and the rich texture of traditional instruments and natural sounds that has always characterized Wardruna.

If there were aught I might criticize about Birna, it would be how “Hibjørnen” fits into Birna’s pacing. After the low-energy—but no less beautiful—”Dvaledraumar” and “Jord til Ljos,” the frenetic beat of “Himinndotter” rebuilds a momentum that’s poised to continue at the song’s conclusion, but is instead interrupted by the skaldic pace of “Hibjørnen.” While I wish it was placed but one or two songs later, it’s nevertheless a beautiful song, and this most minor of gripes only arises due to how well the diversity of Birna’s music is paced in all other regards. Birna starts strong with the poignant, absorbing “Hertan,” which flows directly into the equally powerful “Birna.” The heavily ambient “Dvaledraumar” was a nice surprise that, at 16 minutes long, could have derailed Birna’s pace but fits snugly as the fourth song, and is a captivating crawl through a tar-thick, dream-like ambiance that transitions perfectly into “Jord til Ljos.” Finally, Birna wraps up its themes with “Lyfjaberg” (old Norse for “healing mountain”), Wardruna’s best song since “Helvegen.” It’s a gradual, gripping crescendo of impassioned chanting and singing; a vital plea, commanding in its urgency, reminding us of the respect and reverence nature needs, and deserves, from us.

Within the thriving Nordic folk ecosystem, Birna is clear evidence that Wardruna remains within a league of their own, a powerful reminder of the sway Wardruna holds within people’s hearts. In Selvik’s own words, Wardruna serves as a bridge between people and the natural world. The sounds of nature, the effortless melodies played by instruments that carry the weight of history, the electrifying voices of Selvik and Hella; together, they grow into an irresistible heartbeat, one that you realize was in you from the beginning. Do not miss Birna.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps
Label: By Norse / Sony Music
Websites: warduna.com | facebook.com/wardruna
Releases Worldwide: January 24th, 2025

Dr. A.N. Grier

Wardruna is probably best known for contributing to the highly acclaimed Vikings television show. And why not? Wardruna is about as authentic as you can get. Technically a duo, Lindy-Fay Hella and Einar Selvik have been using traditional Norwegian instruments and guest contributors to carry us through majestic fjords and Viking war paths for nearly fifteen years. Luckily for me, I knew and enjoyed Wardruna well before I saw Gustaf Skarsgård’s sexy ass. Though the band has many o’ great albums, 2018’s Skald proved to be one of my favorite albums that year. Unfortunately, we’ve never received promos from the band, so I couldn’t spread my loving praise on an AMG page. Until now.1 While I could have lived without Mystikus Fuckbeard asking (for months) if we’ve received the promo, I’m glad we got Birna, and that I got to piggyback review with him. While I might be late as fuck on this review, Birna does not disappoint. But, in all honesty, they never did.

With all the different variations of folk metal, Wardruna is the most straightforward of the bunch. Not that their compositions are simple. Not by any means. But, if you’re expecting the headbanging Viking anthems of Amon Amarth or the Valkyrie-screaming passages of Bathory, stop now and readjust yourself. Wardruna is anything but that. Instead, their music invokes the ancient times of Viking culture when men were men and women were women. Or something like that. Incorporating beautiful male/female vocal duets, traditional chanting choruses, and massive atmospheres with instruments sourced from animal parts, listening to Wardruna is like sitting around a fire, drinking mead after annihilating an entire village of lowly peasants.2 With Birna, Warduna is, yet again, in top form.

If you’ve heard the band, you know that drums are the foundation of any Wardruna song. The opening track, “Hertan,” kicks things off with a soft heartbeat that reverberates through your chest before the male vocals appear, mimicking the rhythmic beat. As the intensity increases, the chants and distant choirs elevate the track. On the back half, it snaps the trance as the two vocalists duet their way into the snowy clouds. The title track follows the opener and delivers those tasty movie soundtrack elements. Beginning with a soft beat and female vox, the beautiful lyre arrives before the eruption of instrumentation, choirs, and booming male leads. Rising and falling throughout its seven-minute runtime, “Birna” is one of those Wardruna songs that explores every facet of the band’s skills, building layer on layer until the bitter end.

Yet, the most epic of the bunch is the nearly seventeen-minute “Dvaledraumar.” Using the sounds of nature as its core, each flute, horn, and percussion instrument sings as if a lone member is standing atop the highest hill of a lush prairie playing their hearts out at dawn. Each build begins with gentle pluckings as new layers are added, intensifying the varying moods of the song. “Dvaledraumar” traverses moods of complete relaxation, damning sinisterness, and other emotions that took my simple mind on a rollercoaster ride. But, probably the coolest combination of moods is “Himinndotter.” After the male leads hijack the female ones, this song transitions to the closest thing to a chorus on Birna. Which is fucking gorgeous. Then, the track drops into a low, dark place controlled by graveling vocals and simple, yet angry-sounding drums. But that chorus returns, ripping you from the thorns and placing you in the halls of Valhalla. But the best song on the record is the closer, “Lyfjaberg.” I can’t tell you exactly why this track hits me so hard but it’s damn near perfect. Clocking in at over nine minutes, it controls itself while introducing new builds, leads, and a passion that closes the album perfectly.

Though one would argue that “Lyfjaberg” might have been a last-minute inclusion, as it has existed since 2020, it’s perfect for Birna. So, I don’t fucking care. Perhaps the least enthusiastic songs are “Ljos til Jord” and “Hibjørnen,” but they aren’t so bad that they corrupt the flow. The first is odd coming off the mighty title track, while the latter is overly simplistic—even if it still delivers a fitting tone. The dynamics are interesting because they seem deliberate. Averaging at a DR8, they range from the “heavier” DR6 tracks to the breathable DR13 tracks. Having a bit of oomph for those moments where more intensity is needed and allowing the softer moments to open up is a rather clever approach. Once again, Wardruna does not disappoint, dropping another album that continues to portray the culture of olde, while producing gorgeous tracks and a satisfying flow.

Rating: 4.0/5.0

#2025 #40 #45 #AmonAmarth #Bathory #Birna #ByNorseMusic #FolkMetal #Jan25 #Norway #NorwegianMetal #NotMetal #SonyMusic #VikingFolk #Wardruna

Hades Rising – Chaos Review

By Killjoy

Hades Rising is a testament to the power of camaraderie. Originally formed in Greece by Bill Written as an atmospheric death metal project, he soon moved to Tromsø, Norway where he released a promising but unpolished self-titled album in 2017 and an EP As Frost Takes Over in 2018. Not long afterward, Juan Vazquez Garcia joined him on guitar and songwriting, while also helping to sustain morale amidst years of member turnover and no less than three rewrites of the material that now makes up Chaos. Their hard work and perseverance paid off, culminating in a finals appearance in Wacken Metal Battle Norway in 2023. And now, a year later, Chaos arrives with a plucky statement of intent to break into the symphonic death metal scene.

Hades Rising chose an unusual spot to set up camp in the burgeoning realm of symphonic-tinged metal. The plentiful orchestrations certainly help to build dramatic tension, however, they are used more for garnishment than substance. The result is something like Fleshgod Apocalypse with much of the bombast stripped out and replaced with the intimate melancholy of Fires in the Distance. This may sound paradoxical on paper, but Hades Rising generally pull it off well. The majority of Chaos settles comfortably in medium tempo with far fewer blast beats than one might expect from death metal. There are small forays into melodeath (“The Paradox”) and black metal (“The Voyage”) which add flavor without detracting from the overall consistency.

Chaos is at its strongest when there is a conscious effort to craft a deliberate tone. This is best exemplified by “One with the Murder,” a dabble with death-doom, where the slower, more deliberate pace favors the minimalist orchestral compositions. Where compositions tend to falter is when they attempt to prop up extended guitar chugging in the two opening tracks “Spiraling” and “The Obscurity of Life.” Thankfully, moments like these are rare as the record progresses. Most songs contain some form of instrumental break which, in a strange twist, is what I look forward to the most. They range from gentle tremolos (“The Obscurity of Life”) to intrepid guitar solos (“Chaos”), lending nuance to the rich emotional atmosphere.

Sadly, a few traits dull this attention to detail in the songwriting and make Chaos feel more homogeneous than it is. The first is the programmed drums. While it’s understandable why a small independent band would use it, their increasingly grandiose aspirations mean that they are outgrowing the drum machine.1 More problematic is the overreliance on Bill Written’s deep, rumbling death growls that seldom vary in pitch and are a bit too loud in the mix. He has a fantastic singing voice but only uses it in “The Voyage” and “Lay Your Head.” The latter in particular sees Hades Rising firing on all cylinders to close out the album, featuring double-tracked vocals and nifty bass and guitar solos, and it’s unfortunate that this level of variety didn’t permeate the material that came before. All of this makes the 49-minute runtime drag slightly and the weaker tracks “Only Ashes Left” and “As Darkness Fades” could have been excised to strengthen the entire package.

Much like Chaos’ album art, Hades Rising strikes me as an entity still deciding what exactly they want to be. If they want to continue pursuing the symphonic death course, they should double down on the orchestral facet and make it more prominent and dramatic. Or they could pivot to a death-doom direction more suited to the crushing atmosphere that’s present here. In any case, I believe the best is yet to come from these gentlemen as they continue to refine their already solid writing skills. Chaos won’t be threatening to topple many year-end lists at the eleventh hour, but neither does it deserve to be lost in the kerfuffle of the impending Listurnalia.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Website: hadesrising.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/hadesrising
Releases Worldwide: December 18th, 2024

#2024 #30 #AtmosphericDeathMetal #Chaos #DeathMetal #Dec24 #FiresInTheDistance #FleshgodApocalypse #HadesRising #InternationalMetal #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #SymphonicDeathMetal

Whispering Void – At the Sound of the Heart review

By Mystikus Hugebeard

Whispering Void is, by all accounts, a supergroup. Created by former Trelldom guitarist Ronny Stavestrand, his Trelldom connections allowed him to bring Kristian Eivind Espedal (otherwise known as the problematic fave, Gaahl) onto the project. From there it snowballed, with Gaahl’s Wardruna tenure opening the door for vocalist Lindy-Fay Hella to join the project as well. Rounding out the formation is Iver Sandøy on drums, the drummer for Enslaved’s last two albums. So not only is Whispering Void a supergroup, but they’re probably one of the most Norwegian supergroups ever. Whispering Void channels the diverse musical backgrounds and ideologies of these Norwegian musicians through, in their own words, “an organic and free-spirited studio process,” culminating in their debut album, At the Sound of the Heart.

Whispering Void plays a rich blend of folk, prog, and post-rock that conjures to mind a strikingly Norwegian Crippled Black Phoenix. Clear guitar melodies gently propel songs forward amidst ebbing layers of percussion, strings, and vocals. At the Sound of the Heart has a clean prog-rock tone like that of Lunatic Soul while the songwriting builds towards grand, post-y climaxes, with some added ambient influences to enrich the sound. The performances are excellent, obviously, given the pedigree. The instrumentation from Stavestrand and Sandøy is clean and tight, Hella’s expressive vocals are full of emotion, and nobody can do gravelly spoken words quite like Gaahl. It’s not what I would call the most bodacious of supergroups, comprised of larger-than-life personalities, but the musicians of Whispering Void work together well.

Something that struck me early on regarding At the Sound of the Heart that took a while to put into words is how it feels devoid of ego. Supergroups are typically eager to showcase what certain members’ excel at in their own groups to the point of excess, and while Whispering Void does lean into its members’ strengths, it’s subtle and restrained. The music is thoughtfully composed in a way that strives for melodic clarity and atmospheric richness, which rings most clearly through At the Sound of the Heart’s first half. “Vinden Vier” tastefully pairs a beautiful melody sung by Hella with Gaahl’s percussive recitation of the song’s title, whereas “Vi Finnes” gives Gaahl’s vocals a greater spotlight as the haunting chorus escalates through the song. “Whispering Void” is a great track that dynamically leads through a clean guitar melody paired with Hella’s vocals into a chorus where Gaahl’s vocals complement Sandøy’s drumming prowess, culminating in a sublime melodic climax. It’s genuinely refreshing to hear such talented musicians who are all great on their own working together in a way that’s less about showing off and more about creating something unique through a free-form collaborative process.

As At the Sound of the Heart enters its second half, the results of that artistic process grow shakier. It’s tempting to wax poetic about some cerebral, damning problem rooted deep within the album’s second half to justify it, but truthfully, it’s the simple anticlimax of just being weaker than the first half. The songs are less gripping and slowly sink into the background—the melodies aren’t as strong, the song structure becomes predictable, the atmosphere less inviting. The title track and “We Are Here” adopt a gloomy and dramatic veneer that leans into Gaahl’s spoken words, but they’re frequently more of a whisper and the melodies just never really click. “Lauvvind” returns to the clean, prog-rock tone of the earlier songs, but has a jam-session feel that doesn’t quite land. The songs here aren’t even all that unpleasant, but they’re just boring enough. It’s like the first half marries a solid, driving composition with excellent atmosphere, while the second half lets the compositional strength seep away in favor of the vibes. Vibes can be good, but vibes do not a song make.

It is a unique challenge to score At the Sound of the Heart; in many ways, it defies scoring. At times sublime in its composition and at times little more than musicians just shooting the breeze, At the Sound of the Heart is an unobstructed view into an organic, collaborative artistic process that never truly fails, but only occasionally succeeds. The free-form nature of the music is clearly the point, and it would be a loss if Whispering Void abandoned their free-form experimentation for rigidity. I only wish Whispering Void made more stellar songs like those of the album’s first half, but perhaps you’ll feel differently, and I invite you to experience At the Sound of the Heart for yourself.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: October 18th, 2024

#25 #2024 #Ambient #AtTheSoundOfTheHeart #CrippledBlackPhoenix #Enslaved #Folk #LunaticSoul #NorwegianMetal #Oct24 #PostRock #ProgRock #ProphecyProductions #Trelldom #Wardruna #WhisperingVoid

Funeral – Gospel of Bones Review

By Cherd

It’s a tricky business being the only remaining original member of a band more than thirty years after its creation. I don’t know how many members you have to replace before you’re in Ship of Theseus Paradox territory, but surely Anders Eek is there with his long-running Norwegian doom outfit Funeral. I suppose it’s one thing if the last remaining OG is the vocalist, since the human voice, unfairly or not, will always be the default through-line. It almost doesn’t matter what the music is doing, if the voice is familiar, it’s easy to say “See? It’s the same band.” But Anders Eek is not the vocalist. He’s the drummer. On Gospel of Bones, Funeral’s seventh LP, bassist Rune Gandrud joins Eek as the only returning members from 2021’s Praesentialis In Aeterum.1 Unstable as the band’s lineup has been, they’ve managed to remain a respected voice in doom circles, thanks to a solid discography and their role as early pioneers of funeral doom.

So how do the new members affect Funeral’s sound on Gospel of Bones? We’ll go from least to most impactful. It’s not quite fair to say that new guitarist Stian Kråbøl is a plug-and-play option since he’s obviously skilled at laying down a big doom riff, but Funeral have always had those, and Anders Eek is the main songwriter these days. Strings specialist Sareeta (Ingvild Strønen Kaare) has a much larger impact, as she alternates between violins and the traditional Norwegian Hardanger Fiddle, heard in cuts like “Procession of Misery.” Where the band may have relied on programmed symphonic elements in the past, Sareeta now fills songs out with live string tones ranging from warm to strident. This would be a significant enough change, but we haven’t discussed new vocalist Eirik P. Krokfjord. First, look at what a pleasant, eager looking fellow he is. If you hit play on the embed already, you’re probably trying to reconcile that cherubic visage with the bass-range operatic singing that marks a massive shift in sound from the last Funeral record. Between Krokfjord’s vibrato, Sareeta’s strings, and the complete absence of death growls, Gospel of Bones drops all remainder of death doom in favor of gothic classicism, like a cross between My Dying Bride and Candlemass.

Assuming you’re already down with gothic funeral doom in general, how much you take to Gospel of Bones will rely completely on your reaction to Krokfjord. In spite of my usual aversion to cheese in metal, I find it works. Funeral have always been good at pulling drama out of slow tempos, and when the riffs, violins and Krokfjord’s operatic flair are firing on all cylinders, as they are on opener “Too Young to Die” or “My Own Grave,” the results are Wagnerian. This drama is amplified on the few occasions when Kråbøl is allowed to cut loose with upbeat riffing (“These Rusty Nails”) and soloing (“Når Kisten Senkes”). Altogether, Eek has assembled a band and sound that helps set Funeral apart from the increasingly crowded field of doom metal in a similar way to how Tragedies stuck out in the mid-nineties.

That said, 67 minutes is a lot of operatic singing to digest. Krokfjord obviously has range beyond his bass bellowing, but he rarely uses it. By the time “To Break All Hearts of Men” and closer “Three Dead Men” roll around, with Krokfjord singing in a detached, straightforward style, it seems oddly late in the game to introduce variation. Way back in the opener, Sareeta sings counter-melody on “Too Young to Die.” It works nicely, and I’m not sure why they don’t use it more. There are also a couple moments when the singing strays past dramatic and into silly, like the overpronunciations on “Procession of Misery.” Suddenly Krokfjord sounds less Wagnerian and more like monastic singing when Brother Johan forgets that being fancy is sinful and gets a little carried away. Gospel of Bones is stylistically concentrated. Enough so that it took me several listens to realize nothing, in particular, stands out from a songwriting perspective. There are no bad songs, but nothing here is so well written that it transcends the overall sound.

As with most off-kilter vocal choices, Krokfjord’s contributions to Funeral’s seventh full-length will likely make or break one’s enjoyment of it. For the most part, they work for me, and the interplay between heavy riffs and Sareeta’s lovely violin and fiddle playing is a treat throughout Gospel of Bones. It’s all just on the edge of being too much style over substance, but I can foresee occasions when this will scratch a specific itch.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: funeraldoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/funeralnorway
Releases Worldwide: October 18th, 2024

#2024 #30 #Candlemass #Doom #DoomMetal #Funeral #FuneralDoom #GospelOfBones #MyDyingBide #NorwegianMetal #Oct24 #Review #Reviews #SeasonOfMist

Utflod – Efterdønn Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Music doesn’t have to be complicated to be good. In the metal, rock, and punk worlds, this holds especially true, with a churning fight riff or stumble-step slam holding just as much power to contort faces and limbs as much as any spider-fingered fretboard fury. Utflod, a young new band from Norway, holds this idea especially dear, with their brief catalog to this point showcasing a fiery attitude and noise-coated spirit. And, now, entering the scene proper with a thirty-minute punk-ambitious full-length, will Efterdønn be Utflod’s first chapter on the path to underground riches?

Despite a simple attack, Utflod does seem to want for more than the typical rip ‘n’ roar of -core-tinged, ideals-driven missions. Well, if you understand Norwegian, you may get more of a lyrical lashing.1 The important thing to understand here is that Utflod translates2 to “discharge.” And while Discharge isn’t the main flavor of hardcore throughout Efterdønn, it feels clear that the d-beat progenitors play a role in the base Utflod identity alongside the metal-forward urgency of Integrity and emotional crust of Martyrdöd. At a quick pass, this modern sort of blackened hardcore sound—jangly, often trem’d chords against a rough vocal identity—sits well in the screamo-adjacent waters of dreamy acts like Blind Girls or grind-leaning burners like Crossed, with Utflod even throwing in three odes to the barely-a-song grind blip (“Du lider,” “Utflod,” “Rier”). For a young band, Utflod wears a lot of hats.

Yet, for a band who knows how to pack a mighty punch with swinging pit-starters and chugging arm-throwers (“Frå eit hjarte,” “Tyrann,” “Primitiv”), Utflod spends a frustrating amount of time doing absolutely nothing. If you had presented me with a bass drag as lethal as the one that opens “Insomnia” and then asked me “Dolph, how should this song end,” I would not have chosen “with a minute or so of bleeps and bloops and silence.” Utflod does this not once, but twice (“Stine”), and, for good measure, they also include a horror film hallway creeper as a mid-album intermission in “Mysteries Doom Santana.” Amongst properly hitting hardcore breaks within tracks and in neighboring tracks—which play straight through as they should (“Askeblot,” “Bygdedyret”)—Utflod proves with little question that they have the chops to shred plenty of good tracks. But with the pacing already stunted by the time that transitional piece lands, it requires a bit of dedication (or a heavy skip hand) to dive into the best of Efterdønn.

For those not dissuaded by Efterdønn’s other introductory bumps, its half-raw aesthetic may push back with a mighty force. Utflod generally presents its riffcraft in a dry and spacious package. Following the crust agenda of thumping bass—not too loud though—Mirko’s dry and growling rumble provides both a quaking platform for hammering riffs (“Insomnia,” “Primitiv”) and spectrum assist for the equally dry guitar escapades. On that front, with little in the way of shrieking leads or whipping solos, vocalist Oda’s highest register yelps and cries land uncontested in the mix. Additionally, with her scathing tirades running front, and center, boosted, and largely stripped of resonance, an ugly sibilance appears at ear-popping moments about many tracks across Efterdønn (“Askeblot” and “Hyklar” offend me the most). Frustratingly, the same high-moisture synth ideas that plague a steady runtime also provide ear relief in solitude, and a comforting wetness to the fizzling, dry vocal performance when acting as a hazy layer (“Insomnia,” “Stine,” “Frå eit hjarte”).

The balance between the crackle and dirt of the underground can often be hard to mix with the polish of standing out, and Utfold makes a valiant effort. At its most exciting, Efterdønn hits with unquestionable hardcore energy and a tasteful blackened edge (“Stine,” “Frå eit hjarte,” “Primitiv”). However, the shuffling punk scuttle that defines Efterdønn’s ever-shifting method of attack comes across as an ineffective indecision more than a well-woven accomplishment. Efterdønn does hit a powerful stride on its back half—easy to digest and thrash and wish I were deep in the pit. But with so many upfront issues, it’s hard to give Utfold the full green light this go-around. Keeping in mind that this is only a debut, though, I have hope that this still-developing act will find a footing in their mighty riffsplorations with a kvltish charm.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apollon Records | Bandcamp
Websites: utflod.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/utflodband
Releases Worldwide: October 4th, 2024

#25 #2024 #ApollonRecords #BlackNRoll #BlackenedHardcore #BlindGirls #Crossed #CrustPunk #Discharge #Efterdønn #Hardcore #Integrity #Martyrdöd #NorwegianMetal #Oct24 #Review #Reviews #Utflod

Doedsmaghird – Omniverse Consciousness Review

By Thus Spoke

I, too, did a doubletake when I first read Doedsmaghird. Your brain isn’t playing tricks, Doedsmaghird is a project of Dødheimsgard vocalist and guitarist Yusaf “Vicotnik” Parvez and Camille Giradeau respectively. And the two bands are related in more than name and members. Debut Omniverse Consciousness could believably be another Dødheimsgard record, sounding, as it does, like a natural extension of Dødheimsgard’s signature sound. Exploring further along the vividly electronic path that Black Medium Current set out, Doedsmaghird brings in—or brings back—the wildness and irreverence that Vicotnik largely set aside for that album. Did you hear Black Medium Current and think it was a bit soft, that Vicotnik had lost his edge and everything was far too ‘ordinary’? Do you just want extra Dødheimsgard? Awaken to the Omniverse Consciousness.

Doedsmaghird makes music the way Dødheimsgard does; by which I mean music that accurately replicates the experience of hearing technical extreme metal whilst on mushrooms.1. Rather than assault with mud-drenched gutturals and impossible patterns of string and drum, Omniverse Consciousness evades accessibility through weirdness. Blips, whooshes, jabs, yips, chimes, and throbs of electronically conjured noise are this outing’s distinctive element of wackiness, accompanying—if not dominating—the riffs and drum work. This is, of course, in addition to the expected unhinged vocals that lurch from croaks, to wailing moans, to surprisingly mellifluous cleans. Sometimes it even sounds like everything is being played backwards. But it works. The duo say of the album that it was conceived with more spontaneity and freedom than recent Dødheimsgard output, and this comes through in how jam-packed with ideas, and elastic in its transitions it is. But unlike A Umbra Omega, Doedsmaghird’s debut isn’t pure sonic schizophrenia; it isn’t sharp and abrasive. Rather, it’s an uncomfortable dream, one that stays just on the right side of becoming a nightmare, its strangeness found in the dominance of synth-soundscapes that mould a black metal no one else could replicate.

What’s so impressive about Omniverse Consciousness is the contradiction inherent within it. With individual movements dissonant, real harmony sings through overall. With multiple jarring elements playing on top of one another, cohesion arises from the chaos. Doedsmaghird neither supplement their black metal with experimental electronica nor supplement their electronica with experimental black metal; the two genres are simply one here. Sometimes, this means overtly psychedelic and wobbly à la Blut Aus Nord (“Endless Distance”), others something far more exotic. The clicks and pulses accompanying demonic croaking narration (“Death of Time”), clipped, squeaky moans (“Sparker Inn Apne Dorer”), and jangly yelps and yips of…something (“Then, To Darkness Return”) separately appear grating. But like an apparently unnatural dab of colour in an impressionist painting, they are essential to the picture, and collectively compose something wonderful. Doedsmaghird really seem to be able to do whatever they like, and pull it off. A suddenly thunking, cardboard drum tone (“Min tid er omme”); whiplashing between whooping, sampled moans, and dissonant black metal (“Sparker Inn Apne Dorer,” “Then, To Darkness Return”); playing tremolo riffs to a clacky trap beat (“Adrift into Collapse”). I wouldn’t blame you for thinking it all sounds awful. But, by some magic, it isn’t. Throwing two fingers to the traditional idea of tension and release, Doedsmaghird take you by surprise with (their version of) synthwave and mournful cleans (“Heart of Hell”), enigmatic piano (“Endeavour”) and the coalescence of warbling synth and burring guitar (“Min tid er omme”) being suddenly beautiful.

Before long, you won’t even remember thinking anything about Omniverse Consiousness was ‘that weird’. Soon you’ll notice more and more that there is actually a plethora of harmoniousness on display, and that everything transitions as logically as can be. The sliding keyboards shine (“Heart of Hell”), lurching drum patterns blend slickly into whirring thuds of noise (“Then, To Darkness Return”), bubbles and pops melded to burring tremolos whoosh into fun, compelling melodies (“Endless Distance,” “Min tid er omme”), and more! Doedsmaghird also ice this beautifully mad, moist cake with a rich fondant of stellar production, meaning that you get your money’s worth on the creative intricacies they throw in at every beat, and the insanity is just that much more immersive. Better yet, it’s little more than three-quarters of an hour long, making it far more digestible and eligible for repeat listens.

Omniverse Consciousness is just an extra portion of modern Dødheimsgard. But this is not “the Dødheimsgard at home,” it’s a bona-fide helping of the real deal. It may not be as epic as Black Medium Current, but for how little time it’s been, it’s phenomenal. Further developing and twisting the electronic edge into a black metal only they know how, Doedsmaghird shows that its creators stand head and shoulders above the crowd. Embrace the Omniverse Consciousness.

Rating: Great
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Peaceville
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: October 11th, 2024

#2024 #40 #AvantGardeMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #Dödheimsgard #Doedsmaghird #ExperimentalBlackMetal #NorwegianMetal #Oct24 #OmniverseConsciousness #Peaceville #Review #Reviews

Meer – Wheels Within Wheels Review

By sentynel

Alright, I’m super late with this review—Wheels Within Wheels came out the day I moved house, which has not been the most conducive period for writing. But I couldn’t let this one get past without covering it. I adore Meer. There’s something very warming about listening to them, for all that they lean melancholy rather than saccharine. Best described as symphonic/progressive pop and/or rock, their music is lushly textured, drenched in strings, and emotive, often reaching for a soaring crescendo. Meer’s previous album Playing House narrowly missed the top spot in my 2021 list. In hindsight, it should probably have taken it.

The good news is they haven’t broken anything that made Playing House great. I mentioned in my TYMHM piece that Meer has a sound: a sparse melody on piano or guitar, some strings join, a fragile vocal line, and a build of all of those up to a great big soaring payoff. That’s still present and correct in Wheels Within Wheels, and it even opens with a brief string motif that’s a deliberate callback to the previous record before setting off in its own direction. The even better news is that the writing outshines Playing House. Nearly every song is a banger. The big, catchy vocal lines are really big. “Golden Circle,” “To What End” and more are super satisfying to sing along to. They play with the instrumentation and writing a bit more. There’s more of a dalliance with rock, with more distorted guitar, a spot of slide guitar here and there, and solos on “Chains of Changes” and “Today Tonight Tomorrow.” Closing track “This Is the End” goes actively post-rock, with heavier instrumentation, an unsettling key, and a more complex, extended song structure.

Wheels Within Wheels is a record where one has to criticize good songs to find criticisms at all. All I have to moan about is that there are two weaker pieces, “Behave” and “Take Me to the River.” The songs are good; I like the little whistled melody in “Behave,” for example, or the twiddly guitar on “Take Me to the River.” But they’re a little bit rote—the reference implementations of that Meer sound without anything notable to distinguish them. In the company of the rest of the record, they come across as a bit of filler. Their position in the running order, songs two and three, respectively, makes for an awkward start, tripping up after the great opener “Chains of Changes.” From that point onwards, however, every song is a hit. It’s redundant to try and list them all, but I do need to mention “Mother” in particular, a gorgeous prayer to a deity of broken things.

Meer is an ensemble, not just a band, and the (very many) musicians here are great. They succeed by combining all the moving parts with a sense of orchestration that would make most symphonic metal bands blush. They’re confident across the whole range of styles they touch, from sparse to bombastic. Still, Wheels Within Wheels is never too busy, allowing listeners to pick out the details. There’s a bass bit I love on “Something in the Water,” some pretty viola on “Take Me to the River,” or the piano on “Today Tonight Tomorrow.” Yes, I’m writing for a metal website, but I really enjoy some songs being more rock and guitar-forward (“Golden Circle,” among others). I’m inclined towards having opinions on vocalists and often feel slightly bad about not having space to say as much about, say, Åsa Ree on violin. But Meer’s two vocalists and lyricists, brother/sister duo Knut and Johanne Nesdal1 are brilliant. They carry the emotional heart of the music, trading lead vocal roles and duets, from the tender and fragile to the big, belted choruses. The production balances each detail without a problem, though I’d like a little more dynamic range to emphasize the biggest bits.

Wheels Within Wheels loses out to Playing House only in the sense that I knew what to expect—there’s no replicating that “wow” moment of hearing a fantastic band for the first time. But beyond that, it’s a notable improvement on Playing House, and that’s a hell of an achievement. Going a bit more rock and a touch more experimental is good for them. I’ve struggled to choose highlights to refer to because of an endless stream of “No, this one is my favorite track!” every time I listen. If you have any interest in progressive music, modern classical, or stuff that’s just Excellent, you should listen to this.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Karisma Records
Websites: meer.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MEERmusikk
Releases Worldwide: August 23rd, 2024

#2024 #45 #Aug24 #KarismaRecords #Meer #NorwegianMetal #PostRock #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #SymphonicRock #WheelsWithinWheels

Leprous – Melodies of Atonement Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Leprous and Angry Metal Guy have a contentious relationship. Once a critical darling in the eyes of Our Beholder, the Norwegian then neophytes released works that bustled with a “triumphant groove,” and presented a full band swirling in deeply layered, metal-minded melodrama. All against the traditional backdrop of tight, syncopated rhythms and with a vocalist whose siren-like tenor captured melodies that others simply couldn’t, Leprous lit a vision of progressive metal that was as emergent as it was rooted in the technical playfulness that has long inhabited the genre. Yet, journeying on with 2017’s Malina, and now continuing into Melodies of Atonement, Leprous—or namely, main man Einar Solberg—has iterated on different ideas of how Leprous strikes. Redemption, though, comes not at the eyes of those who judge blindly but through the ears of those who listen.

Early Leprous endeavors lived through characters stumbling through sleeplessness or crying out in a nightmare land. The journey from 2015’s The Congregation and onwards would, instead, see lyrical themes shift away from surrealist struggle and into “I”-centered narratives, which has continued well into the material here. In tandem Leprous shifted from a band at play to a band at work lifting the melancholy of moody pop refrains, spending less time in a snaking shuffle and more in a calculated chorus swell. Full of vocal gymnastics and repetitive, belted hooks, Pitfalls and Aphelion painted a Leprous who lay largely subservient to quiet storm builds and Eurovision key changes. None of these traits are inherently bad, but when an album rest on tactics like that the need for great chorus-driven songs arises—the goal of whimsy and exploration becomes harder and harder to find. Or, at least, the audience shifts.

In the face of this persistent struggle, or urge rather, to reshape the Leprous identity, Melodies of Atonement takes head on the challenge of remaining an interesting and encouraging band in the face of this pomp-needing platform. Embracing decidedly modern synth tones that pulse like a feverish, tucked-away dance floor (“Atonement,” “Limbo”), Leprous finds renewed vigor in both their song-leaning aspirations and sneaky, frenetic instrumental layers. Co-founding guitarist Tor Oddmund Suhrke has long been able to wield his strings as nimble, eclectic accompaniment—the trip-hop waltz “My Specter” and dreamy, dripping strut “Limbo” both finding a controlled, shrill, and warbling tone to cut in and around all else—while still crashing into low-end loaded chords against Solberg’s histrionic crescendos. In Melodies’ most vibrant move, late album crack “Faceless” sees both a restrained-to-explosive Solberg erupt amongst a plonking double bass walk and grand choir backing—a true wonder. Leprous can wear grandiosity well.

And while Melodies’ strongest moments hit that powerful stride for which modern Leprous aims, the total experience still finds an all to comfortable home in plaintive repetition and band-light expression. Though not quite a fault, it’s near a given that you’ll hear the title of any track across this run in the chorus. But both “I Hear the Sirens” and “Self Satisfied Lullaby” find an additional focus on their namesakes that feels like an extra layer of familiarity against the subtle and slow shifts that each has, in stark contrast to songs like “Atonement” and “Starlight,” where recurrences of highlight phrases and words build against urgent instrumentation and increasingly powerful vocal delivery. Unfortunately, this disparity in momentum creates an enjoyment barrier on repeat listens. In the case of “Starlight” that means that finishing the album on two lesser cuts feels like a chore, with “Unfree My Soul” coming off more as a cloying anthem of frustration in the shadow of greater peaks.

Perhaps in succession of Solberg’s solo works, Melodies of Atonement comes across soup-to-nuts as a mostly pleasing, diverse melodic experience. With previous outings, the issue of refrain after refrain of virtuosic wail defining the creases and crooks of each album’s wear made it hard to see why the whole of each experience needed to exist. The MENA scale, warbled lines that Solberg weaves throughout Melodies in “My Spectre,” “Sunken Ship,” and “Faceless” lift with a fresh breath the idiosyncratic and meticulous songcraft that Leprous has always had at their disposal. And in prime, Melodies exposes a rough and polished hypnotic sneer that carves similarly eclectic, song-driven works of late Dalbello or The Gathering. But the greatest of what those acts have to offer also comes loaded with consistently great—not just good—songs, a task at either level that remains out of reach for this iteration of Leprous.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Inside Out Music | Bandcamp1
Websites: leprous.net | facebook.com/leprousband
Releases Worldwide: August 30th, 2024

#25 #2024 #AlternativeRock #ArtRock #Aug24 #Dalbello #InsideOutRecords #Leprous #MelodiesOfAtonement #NorwegianMetal #ProgressiveMetal #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #TheGathering