Clad in Darkness - "Decathect" (2013) [Self-Released] (Track Premiere! Stream "Forestall" Here!)

This album has been a long, long time coming. Having first seen them shortly after the release of their second (and most recent) EP, 2006's Amidst Her Shadows, each coming year of recording inactivity morphed my hope for Clad in Darkness into disappointed resignation that the album which was to be known as Decathect would be nothing more than the "legendary unreleased album." My hopes were re-affirmed when the band made a Kickstarter to assist in recording and pressing payments, and, with their goal of six hundred dollars more than doubled in a day's time, I quickly learned just how many people shared my frustrated admiration.

What can I say about Decathect? I've heard these songs in their various forms of completion over the past seven years, and hearing them in their fully-realized forms is almost cosmic. An aggressively emotional bout of post-rock laced black metal, Clad in Darkness breaks the mold sculpted (rather hastily, if you ask me) by bands like Alcest and takes the notion of "post-black metal" to new heights. Though the "progressive" (read as: Opeth) influence found on the Amidst Her Shadows EP is still apparent, a progression in approach and sound is very apparent, but what could one expect after a seven year lack of studio activity?

I could go on for days concerning this album, but, in my attempts to write something out, I've been left speechless. Over the years Clad in Darkness has become something very valuable and special to me. Repeated listens yield the same endless shivers and sighs I would feel back when they would perform live. I've been given the honor of premiering Decathect's penultimate track "Forestall," which you can listen to below.



Undoubtedly the album's most aggressive track, "Forestall" explodes into existence with blistering, melodic misery, overlaid with vocalist CJH's most desperate wails. Though the more traditional black metal front seems a bit out of character, "Forestall" unfurls into a real thing of atmospheric beauty, slowly folding in elements of krautrock and ambiance before dropping into a massive, slow-moving post-rock crescendo. I'm normally not into the post-rock-infused sort of black metal, but Clad in Darkness is one of the first successes I've heard. Maybe it's the years they spent honing their skills, or maybe they just sort of fell into the sound over the years; whatever the case, I'm convinced.

Decathect is finally slated for release on December 14th. Oh my god.

-Jon

Ricart/Millevoi Quartet - "Haitian Rail" (2013) [Gaffer Records/New Atlantis Records]

I've for years discounted the value of guitar and electric bass in jazz. I'm taking a step back and rethinking now--but then again, Ricart and Millevoi don't exactly just play "jazz." They incorporate a world of New Music and instinctive catharsis into their works, and "Haitian Rail" is surely more than nine worlds in six tracks.

Nick Millevoi has a history rich in the ways of Tzadik--not only did his ensemble Many Arms release a crushing album on Tzadik last year (really, go listen to that. The review will still be here when you come back.), he's always delved unrestricted into the (frequently insane) music that suits him, never stopping to worry about "genres" and "traditions." He adroitly utilizes guitar fire from across jazz, avant-rock and shred, and the ultramodern to create a hesitation-free tapestry of sound. In 2011, he (uniquely) wrestled his fire from an electric 12-string for his solo work "Black Figure of a Bird."

It really shouldn't be surprising that he's found a welcome spot with Dead Neanderthals on a European tour September-October 2013--I'm waiting eagerly to hear the madness that spews from that.

Ed Ricart is something of the perfect co-leader for Millevoi. His textures (rumbling, frayed, thundering) suit Millevoi's electric fire, but the real key is his consistency in emitting coherent expressions no matter how he delves into techniques I don't know how to identify. On "Haitian Rail," he freely draws both from the heavy poundings of his noise rock work in Hyrrokkin and the looser flow and textures of Matta Gawa.

From New York ensemble Little Women's mind-devouring enigmas (again, the review will still be here) comes tenor saxophonist Travis Laplante. His work, especially solo (see his album "Heart Protector") is an outgrowth of his dedication to the spiritual immersion of his life. Through the help of circular breathing, he releases ceaseless transformations of wide-interval and timbre-only trills, sometimes bursting with multiphonics, in a way that reflects shamanic approaches to music through didgeridoo and throat singing, given new life in the world of New Music.

Ches Smith's drums are familiar to many as what makes Marc Ribot's Ceramic Dog awesome. His heavy tom-centered syncopations shine even more with the greater flexibility and freedom of what is still essentially a improvisational group for Haitian Rail, and his sense of groove underlines Ricart's growling patterns with power and finesse.

Want to hear every combination, texture, tempo, and stylistic reference these four could masterfully put to tape? Go get the album, then listen to it a whole bunch of times. I have yet to reach the end without feeling the need to go back and explore the beginning again. Reap the rewards of these labors.

Preterite - "From the Wells" (2013) [Union Finale] (Exclusive Track Premiere: Stream "Gleaming Escape" Below!)

It's been a good minute since we've heard from our protagonists in Preterite, what with conspirator Genevieve Beaulieu's most recent activity in her "main" project Menace Ruine, whose Alight in Ashes was released to critical acclaim late last year. Pillar of Winds, Preterite's debut, was a fast favorite here at the Inarguable camp. Rife with dreamy harmonium drones, thoughtful guitar work, extended composition technique, and Beaulieu's undeniably powerful voice, we finally got to hear the doom folk album Nico never wrote. It was near perfect, and criminally underrated, gracing a scant few year-end lists. Hell, even I overlooked it in my year end list. Stupid. Stupid. Now on Union Finale, Beaulieu's own imprint with her Menace Ruine compatriot S de la Moth, Preterite returns with their much more subdued sophomore effort, From the Wells.

Continue reading for review and track premiere!

Merkstave - "Merkstave" (2013) [Pesanta Urfolk]

I initially thought Merkstave was just destined to be "one of those bands." You know, the one which shares members with a few of your favorite bands, and yet you can't seem to find any goddamn information on them. Metal-Archives says they released two excessively limited demo tapes in 2011, though recordings apparently date back to 2005, but, aside from an extremely low-quality upload on Youtube, their online presence is all but nonexistent. It seemed that this collective was doomed to rot in obscurity, even with rumors swirling of a finished full-length album swirling around the back corners of the nerdiest of metal forums for the past near-three years.

Featuring members of Leech, Hell, Elu of the Nine, Mania, Velnias, and what seems like the rest of the "Colorado/Oregon doom and black metal" microcosm, Merkstave is by far the heaviest doom band you've never heard of. Featuring professionally recorded versions of their demos Laments for Lost Gods and Spawn of a Lower Star, Merkstave's first, and seemingly only projected full-length effort consists of three long-form offerings of the most despondent, excruciatingly slow funeral doom this side of Finland's Tyranny. This is one of those albums which isn't to be taken lightly, especially for those of the faint of heart. As someone who struggles with depression (don't we all), I find it difficult to listen though this album because it is so brutally, devastatingly honest in its successful attempts at portraying just how alone we are in the universe. If there were ever gods, they certainly aren't here anymore. We simply exist in this vacuum, and Merkstave is here to remind us that there is nothing else in this telluric funerary void. Rarely moving above the pace of a funeral procession through chilled molasses, Merkstave's minimal approach to doom hits the listener right where it hurts with soul-crushing heaviness, bleak, somber melodies, and a pleasant balance between "pretty" and downright nasty.

Yeah, that's right. Nasty.

I have a big problem with doom bands who constantly romanticize depression like it's some beautiful motivator, because, let's face it, depression sucks. Sure, it brings about some great music, and yeah, you can totally romanticize it with big, beautiful melodies, which Merkstave embraces, but there's so much more going on underneath. Big, murky drones, minimalism to an excess, and gross shrieks are pit against the melodic majesty, creating a wonderfully unique dichotomy therein, echoing the complexities of true human emotion. It's a rough listen for sure, but it's definitely rewarding, especially for those of us who have waited far too long to hear Merkstave come to posthumous fruition.

Our friend Harold over at Hammer Smashed Sound's declaration of Merkstave as "the epitome of doom" is right on the money. This is explosive, angry, miserable, and goddamn heavy. The stars have aligned against us. Remember that. Fans of the usual funeral doom crew take note, but approach with caution and antidepressants. In the usual Pesanta Urfolk fashion, there's the "regular ol' LP" version out now, but members of the "elite subscription service" better keep their eye out for the ridiculous special edition which is the epitome of labelhead Adam Toruella's reckless excess and artistic vision. It'll be worth the money I don't have. Get sad.

-Jon

Devotion - "In Love We Stand Alone" (2013) [Brave Mysteries]

We don't normally have much trouble distributing reviews around here. I only got the honor by virtue of having been the first of us to order it--we ALL ordered it.



So yeah, Devotion is the work of Brave Mysteries veterans and more-or-less newlyweds Troy and Dani Schafer, also known for work in ensembles like Kinit Her, Wreathes, and Wormsblood. In Love We Stand Alone is absolutely among our favorites of their work (which is a muddled mess of "wait but this album is priceless too") and features all of the slight strangenesses, originality, and beautiful sense of melody we've come to expect from their other projects--with an emphasis on the beautiful and enrapturing. Troy and Dani embrace us with the kinds of tunes that stick in the mind and yet continually receive a welcome.

Like Kinit Her's nearly simultaneous album The Poet and the Blue Flower (from which we premiered a tune here), In Love We Stand Alone heavily features harmonic masses of violin work, here mixed with more of Troy's acoustic guitar strumming and lush horn arrangements. Featuring Dani more prominently as the main voice helps Devotion find a place as the "beautiful" one of the twins, but extended violin technique and occasional forays into microtonality mean the engaging songwriting also holds on to the adventurous. Nathaniel Ritter of Kinit Her appears in the final track, working under his Circulation of Light name to bring huge keys and organ in a fitting ode from a close friend to the pair's marriage.

It's one thing to know people who are as beautiful human beings as Troy and Dani Schafer; it's a world of blessing that they're capable of putting that into their music and sharing it with the world.

Sutekh Hexen - "Become" (2013) [King of the Monsters/Auris Apothecary] (Exclusive Track Premiere! Stream "The Voice: The Void" Below!)

I'm not going to lie, it's been a while since we've heard from the otherwise prolific Sutekh Hexen. Granted, this isn't the first time the Become EP was released this year, but Auris Apothecary, the magnificent purveyor of micro-releases on odd formats, chose to unleash this monster on a 1/4" reel, making it impossible to listen...so I waited. Not to say it was bad of Auris Apothecary to release this on a legitimately dead format, but I, like many others, lack a reel-to-reel player, so waiting is all I could really do. I figured someone would release this on a more "accessible" format (hard to believe I'm saying that about vinyl in 2013), especially given the fact that the Auris Apothecary release sold out within hours, and King of the Monsters was nice enough to confirm my suspicions, giving Become the full vinyl treatment.

In the wake of Larvae, which was released earlier last year, it seems that the constant touring and otherwise lack of recordings from Sutekh Hexen has treated them well, allowing Kevin Gan Yuen and Andy Way to experiment further with live electronic sound and extensive textures, manifesting in the massive Become. A two-part experiment in long-form, droning, blackened ambiance, Become shows Sutekh Hexen taking a breather from their usual brand of non-stop, metallic walls, giving way to a more dynamic approach which lends to them rather nicely. It would seem that the "cheese grater to the ear" approach found on the demo trilogy and Luciform is a thing of the past, instead replaced by subtly shifting textures, crawling, distant drones, and the occasional, much more powerful black metal blast. The interplay between Gan Yuen's bizarre riffing and Way's extensive electronics wizardry is at its most cohesive, feeding off of each other in a way which only truly comes from the aforementioned live experimenting, rather than studio magic. This EP ebbs and flows in waves of cleansing white noise, scrubbing away at endless layers of filth and exposing light.



B-side "The Face: The Void" opens with a monstrous, doomed black metal riff, fleshed out with bouts of noise and harsh vocals. In the distance lies a muscled pulse, a rarity in Sutekh Hexen's discography, pushing the nightmarish being forward. As this faceless void lurches on, it devolves even further into abstraction, taking on characteristics of harsh noise, cavernous drone, and shimmering guitar ambiance. It's quite striking, really, and a tour de force of Sutekh Hexen's ever-gaining momentum and maturity. Brilliant darkness.

Become is currently available for pre-order from King of the Monsters Records. Alongside the standalone LP are two different gold LP die-hard editions, one containing a slipmat, and the other including both the slipmat and two shirts. This is cool.

-Jon

Editor's Note: Yeah, there's some drama going on with Sutekh Hexen. Whatever. Pick your side and keep it to yourself like I did. Black metal isn't about friendship, anyway.

Tervahäät - "Patria" (2012) [Anima Arctica]

Tervahäät is a unique and terrifying monster. With their previous efforts, the duo of Finnish folk experimenters M. Poyhonen and Anima Arctica labelhead Kaarna crafted soundscapes which echoed the vast, frozen tundras of northern Finland. A unique mix of grating banjo, icy ambiance, and warm, deep voices, Tervahäät managed to imbue senses of both vastness and claustrophobia, an agoraphobic sense of inner isolation. With their sense of adventure, Tervahäät proved themselves to be a more advanced listen, made specifically for the most seasoned and eclectic listener, which, ultimately, and sadly, went largely overlooked.

As I mentioned in my review of last year's Kalmonsäie, Tervahäät has been changing since their first, self-titled effort in 2009. Originating in near-pure abstraction, Poyhonen and Kaarna slowly brought in elements of rhythm and clear songwriting over the course of Kalmonsäie, being sure to retain their otherwise unsettling, calculated atmosphere. A bold step which was met with some confusion, but even the biggest Tervahäät fan could not prepare themselves for the change that was to come with Patria, which was released shortly before last year's end. Yes, it would appear that Patria is Tervahäät's most "conservative" work yet, no doubt a product of Poyhonen's mind, which has given us the beautiful Pyha Kuolema. While still airy and Winter-like, we see the music slowly and surely approaching the project's characteristically warm and full voices, concentrating more on songwriting than their usual texture-bent approach. A quiet and calm effort in comparison to its more chilling predecessors, Patria shows a maturity and flexibility which most musicians lack, normally sticking to one characteristic style until it's run its course, only to beat the dead horse further. Granted, those who know me also know I tend to criticize artists who "genre jump" a little too much, and yet I cannot deny that this sounds like Tervahäät! Sure, the overall approach is a little more direct than what I would expect, but Patria still holds some of the unsettling, chilling undertones found in Tervahäät and Kalmonsäie, just sort of...pushed off into the distance. A familiar chill I can only associate with Poyhonen and Kaarna's works still manages to creep up my spine, even at Patria's most beautiful and calm moments. So, sure, this is a departure, but the intent and identity remains intact, making Patria a success.

Patria is by far Tervahäät's most accessible release by far, which might not be saying much, but it is definitely the best entry point for those who desire neofolk's more abstract realm. Full of warmth, distant rumbling, and a lurking sense of uncertainty, I can't help but return to Patria even on the warmest of Summer days (though autumn is coming). Expect a new Tervahäät release, titled Taival, on Anima Arctica later this Fall. Apparently a new Key album is on the horizon, as well. Keep your fingers crossed.

-Jon

Burning Tree - "Lammergyer" (2013) [Utech Records]

It's probably abundantly clear at this point that Utech is one of my favorite labels. Keith constantly puts out a variety of quality ambient, noise, and free jazz records. Lammergyer is the destructive new record from Burning Tree, a duo of Tape Rape veterans drummer Dag Erik Knedal Andersen and saxophonist Dag Stiberg, the former known for a number of collaborations with various members of the Scandinavian free improv underground and the latter known for his particularly abrasive saxophone sounds and frequent use of distortion and the like. Stiberg's approach in the past has most often amounted to harsh noise created with saxophone as a sound source--and far more artistically than most who attempt that approach.


Andersen's Tape Rape background (the um, evocatively named Cunt Rash duo with guitarist Daniel Meyer Grønvold of the Norwegian Noise Orchestra) also hints at the work he does in Burning Tree. Anderson's drums on Lammergyer are based in the violence and chaos of noise's meetings between the metal and free jazz scenes. Whereas a free jazz drummer (even Andersen himself in other contexts) often unleashes a sort of syncopated chaos, the practitioners who come from a metal/noise background (often one and the same) tend to work around a complex "grid" with sounds directly on the lines.

Stiberg, meanwhile, working completely without effects for the Burning Tree project, unleashes sounds surprisingly reminiscent of the bursts of feedback and beat-heavy wave interactions noise folks make with pedal loops and contact microphones. His playing is relentlessly harsh, with some impressively destructive multiphonics and more wild delving into altissimo than one hears even in most of the more pain-fueled free jazz records.

As Utech says, Dag & Dag follow a long duo tradition on this album of an A side of shorter, "digestible" cuts and a B side of one extended improvisation. The B side, "No Return," is where Burning Tree's sound really shines: they integrate all of the elements they displayed on the A side into a performance long and powerful enough to satisfy. It's a distinctly new take on the sax/drums duo concept despite being strongly rooted in the feelings and sounds of sheer wrath and energetic chaos that draw many (myself included) to free improvisation in the first place.

This is a perfect gateway record for noise fans. Do it.


-V.

Away - "Cities" (2013) [Utech Records] FULL ALBUM STREAM + CONTEST

The metal world would be a much different place without the guidance of Michel "Away" Langevin. Whether you are a die hard Voivod fan or not, it is hard to deny this one man's importance, be it with his musical prowess, ingenuity, and visual artistic talents (Away has designed countless logos and album covers!). Of course, we Voivod fans are much more used to Away's more metallic side: a loud, progressive pummeling which is undeniably his own, so many seasoned Away fanatics might find themselves on the more confused end of the spectrum after a full listen of Langevin's newest solo effort, the contemplative and abstract Cities.

Operating in the "musique concrète" sphere, Cities is a collection of field recording collages recorded over the past three years in and around Montreal, as well as around the world while touring with Voivod. These are the sounds of places: people, animals, nature, music. The hustle and bustle of city life slowly decays into a found recording of a solo bandoneon arrangement of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." People dancing and cheering, a parade, commerce - it seems as if Away has perfectly captured the essence of these locales, highlighting the contrast of modernity and human strife against the consistent underlying elements of ancient culture preservation, be it conscious or a mere vestige. This is Away's celebration of life as an observer, travelling the world. Of course, this isn't entirely a serious affair, with a few tongue in cheek samples of crowds chanting "VOIVOD! VOIVOD!" closing out "Europe 2012." A truly unique and inspiring work from one of the music world's most creative souls.

We have removed the album from our soundcloud page. Enjoy the stream via the official Utech Records Bandcamp page.



From the label:

"Utech Records is pleased to announce the release of the first solo album by Away (Michel Langevin) from Voivod. The album, Cities, is a journey into the life and thought process of an itinerant musician. Recorded in and around Montreal and on the road with Voivod, Cities is an experience in travel via sound, capturing both the geography and the music of the locations visited. The album is a rapid journey across the globe, via a first-ear account from an artist like no other.

Cities will be available July 27, 2013 with exclusive art from Away.
Utech Records at utechrecords.com
Away at irongang.com

I’ve always been fascinated by field recordings, tape collage and musique concrète.
I was introduced to it by Piggy as a youngster. –Away

Strong field recordings capture more than just the sound of an area, they capture a mood and spirit of the place and people. On Cities, local color and nature recordings clash with riots and discord, capturing the full human experience across the world. Literal and metaphorical “found music” appears: the booming stereo of a passing car or distant church bells, as does the rhythmic engine hum of a bus or the chirping of birds. This
tour is a fast paced one, rapidly weaving through the geographic locations building a diverse, yet consistently engaging experience. The audio journey captured here perfectly reinforces the fact that, regardless of one’s location, the presence of music is never far, nor should it be." -Keith Utech

CONTEST!

Yes, you could be lucky enough to win a copy of the beautiful, contemplative Cities.

How?

Brush up on your Voivod trivia:

What were the two sides of Voivod's War and Pain LP titled, respectively?

E-mail your answer to theinarguable@gmail.com. The first three to answer correctly will receive their very own SIGNED copy of Cities, graciously donated by Keith Utech of Utech Records!

ALL CONTEST COPIES HAVE BEEN SPOKEN FOR. CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR WINNERS. ORDER A COPY FROM UTECH RECORDS ON JULY 27TH.

-Jon

Gulaggh - "Vorkuta" (2013) [Crucial Blast]

Technically, Vorkuta was Gulaggh's first album after their shift from the Stalaggh project in 2009. I'm sure, however, that I'm far from the only person who missed out on the mad din while the album promptly sold out from New Era Productions. Crucial Blast's new re-release is simple and classy: only silver ink on a solid black digipack.

There's not nearly so much distortion here as there was back in the Stalaggh days, but this is still the sort of psychotic thing that makes the cat leave the room. Instead of the noise, the Dutch asylum artists have moved their chaos of screaming (which they credit to recordings from patients in a mental hospital, though that's of course unverifiable and, oddly, the "sane" are more likely to scream in chorus for extended periods) to the context of untutored and chaotic use of an assortment of traditional European "orchestral" instruments. Violins croak and squeak with the characteristic bounces and open arpeggios of a novice attempting to divulge the inner workings of madness, a bass drum calls out a funeral tone, and muddied brass and winds lurch along in a mad parody of a march.

Gulaggh really hit the nail on the head here with the heavy inclusion of higher voices screaming. "Vorkuta" is definitely the most solid instance of "composition based on a flowing structure around the sampled speech of a relentless foreign tongue, a chorus of the damned, and naive improvisation on an assortment of traditional instruments" I've yet heard. Valuable enough just because this album is the only instance of its genre.

Antique Soviet torture doom. Our ethically-challenged public servants really need to step up their aural torture game from crappy rock music.

-V.

The Body - "Master, We Perish" (2013) [At A Loss]

We don't make a HUGE deal out of it, but pretty much the entirety of the core staff at The Inarguable loves The Body. For a couple of us, our first experience was mindlessly following Jon to a show he'd booked for them in Chicago in 2010.

We didn't really know what to expect, but with the opening chords of "Ruiner" we thought "If nothing else, this will be heavy." We weren't ready.

Then Chip switched on the other two thirds of his cabinets. I don't think I've ever seen jaws genuinely drop before, but my god if that wasn't the heaviest thing. What we didn't get from their show was what we enjoyed on record later: The Body's trademark strange samplenoise and remixperimentation.

In an interview with Mike Simpson of Invisible Oranges, Chip summed up what has to be the core of The Body's recorded sound: "You can’t get a record loud enough to shake your stomach, which is what we do live." "Master, We Perish" is another installment in a series of attempts to make it happen anyway: right there in the production is the carefully-sculpted sound of speakers about to rip themselves apart that I've only rarely even heard in the HNW cults that are supposed to be that and nothing else. Even when Lee's distinctive drums are alone, they're in a blur of stomach-shaking clipping.

"Master, We Perish" is basically a whirlwind of hate. Even in 18 minutes of the heavy-repetition, limited-development songs The Body specializes in, there's everything from fast, crushing almost-d-beats, distorted shrieks, oddly guitarless ultra-heavy ultra-doom, heavy guitar ultra-doom, and Neurosis tom beats recreated in heaviness Neurosis can't touch to Assembly of Light Choir over painfully hanging chords. I just wish they'd wait a little longer and give us 40 or 50 minutes to revel in.

Go get your ears blown out. Just remember they've only given us three songs and you'll need one of the full-lengths to finish you off.

-V.

Masayoshi Urabe - "Kampanerura" (2012) [Utech]

Masayoshi Urabe, though generally known as a free jazz alto saxophonist, and a beautiful one at that, is something closer to a performance artist in many ways. As a member of the the performance art movement that grew up around noise music in Japan in the 1980's and 90's, Urabe's performances (often in collaboration with members of C.C.C.C., Hijokaidan, and the like) frequently evoke the Happenings of Black Mountain and the Fluxus movement, made new and strange by their echo in a different sociological world. He can be found perched in high places playing reed instruments all the way to the accordion (I dare not ask what the "Wonder Reed" mentioned in Kampanerura's liner notes is) while collaborators on the floor shriek horribly at length (Junko of Hijokaidan) or perform strange rituals in a Pierrot costume (Kei Kato).

Kampanerura is perhaps best understood from this vantage. Kampanerura (or "Campanella" in English translations) is the name of a strange boy in Kenji Miyazawa's beloved (in Japan) 1927 children's novel "Night on the Galactic Railroad." In the novel, Kampanerura appears as a symbolic figure: the young protagonist's apparently drowned friend who vanishes after the pair promise to stay together always on an allegorical train journey. Urabe has crafted his own text (thankfully translated by Japanese avant-garde expert Alan Cummings) for the album, one which seems to use Kampanerura's half-illusory image as a jumping-off point for Urabe's own poetic/polemic visions of daily life in the modern world and the interface of individual and society.

Kampanerura begins, disorientingly, away from obvious reeds and cut off from recognizable acoustic sound sources. Temporally disjunct impacts, buzzes, and screeches set an urban-technological tone borne out further as Urabe manages to turn familiar rock guitar sounds into an alienating smattering of metrically disrupted extracultural gasps.

The whole of the album is more direct in a beautifully indirect way; like Urabe's prose in the album itself, the music is Urabe's voice flowing through the alto as poetry. His gradual arcs and bursts find the poetry of every infinitesimal bit of reverberation and silence between. Echoing the shapes of the city (nailed to a board warped by the sun) is the softly restrained drumming of Aural Fit's (improvized rock destruction group) Teruhisa Nanbu and Urabe's own performances on assorted less-vocal instruments.

" . . . that old painter woman with the screechy voice fron Nakano . . . If there's someone you want to kill, stop working out how you're going to do it and just do it. . . . If you want to demolish, then raze it to the ground."
-Masayoshi Urabe

-V.

Stilla - "Till Stilla Falla" (2013) [Nordvis]

I've had a couple of months with Stilla's Till Stilla Falla and my excitement with the album has made it difficult to summarize it into words. As the winter continues to oppress, the album is warming and comforting in a way. The groups record label Nordvis presses a hearkening back to groups such as Tulus, Kvist, and Old Man's Child. While the structuring here is unique the overall palate does, in fact, strike a chord that resonates from our dear Shagrath's short lived Hot Records label that released work by some of these groups. It's not often that you see modern acts tipping their hats towards this mid-nineties era, and even more interestingly the individuals that make up Stilla have a legacy of their own to contend with. A. Pettersson's association with Swedish greats Armagedda, Lönndom and LIK speaks for itself. In addition A. Vidhall and J. Marklund who have worked amongst De Arma, Sorgeldom, Grifteskymfning, Kaos Sacramentum and Whirling comprise a veritable 'super-group' formed out of the currently top-notch Swedish circles. Rounding Stilla out is P. Stille from Bergraven, an essential figure in this layout. As a manifestation of modern masters penetrating into the spheres of nostalgia, Til Stilla Falla is absolutely an successful venture.

For those familiar with P. Stilla's previous work with Bergraven, his dominance in the writing process will be apparent. Instigating a certain progressive element within the songs, odd time signatures and strange chord progressions collide with remnants of the more traditional style. The melodic sequences will often last far longer than is common in metal or 'rock' music in general. The concept of shifting dynamics in sound and experience, sometimes ignored black metal, is here demonstrated with mastery. The intent in creating an album of contrasting mood and atmosphere is apparent. 

Acoustic guitar opens the album striking a naturalist mystique (not unfamiliar to Lönndom and LIK) that blends into nearly syncopated discordant metal. “Tidlösa Vindar” lays out the inherent ingredients, as the rest of the album builds upon them. The statement from the beginning of the album is proud and at points feral in its independence. Pride, however, can always crumble as it does on more morose tracks like “Askormen” and “Allt är Åter”. The rhythm section builds the pieces with creative percussion employing the range of blast beat to off-time groove. The creative and wandering bass playing has a jangled, slightly flanging tone seemingly culled straight from the aforementioned Tulus and Old Man's Child. See sections such as the end of “Hinsides Dagen” where the bass is utilized as the dominate instrument. The guitar work, both acoustic and electric, is accompanied by tasteful flourishes of keyboard ranging from classic black metal choir to the prog-adored Mellotron. The production is clear and encapsulates a mysterious atmosphere seeking an escape into the natural environment. So often attempted in this style, but not as often honestly conveyed.

In all of these building blocks we see a group utilizing archetypal sounds to build something much grander than the sum of its parts. What the album presents is a masterful combination of contemporary and nostalgic concepts, executed by competent musicians. These elements coalesce into a atmospherically mystical and technically well executed piece of music that is, in it's hailing of the past and the present, timeless in a way.

-Ben

Bitter Peace/Esoterica/Krieg/The Many - "New World Black Metal" (2013) [Plastik Musik]

I don't think I've ever reviewed a 4-way split before. Though a great way for multiple bands to get noticed, writing about four projects under one banner is definitely going to be an undertaking. Excuse any awkwardness!

Opening with a short clip about the NWO, Connecticut-based duo Bitter Peace rip through a rather odd, yet conservative black/death metal. The riffs and beats are all semi-standard fare, based in dark tones and fleet-fingered blast beats, but it's Nathan Kite's vocal performance which really makes "Ageless Conquering Wolves" a unique experience. Layered, half-spoken clean voices give the impression of a man possessed. Pleading, slurred, grating... I'm not sure if I enjoy it or not, but such an odd vocal performance can't go unnoticed. I'm definitely intrigued as to where Bitter Peace will take their sound, but for now it seems to be "in the making."

I've been following musician Alex Poole for some time now, dating back to the earlier days of his previous oddball black metal project Chaos Moon. Though Chaos Moon is now gone, Poole's latest project Esoterica rose from the ashes, releasing two digital-only EPs on their Bandcamp. Steeped in the mangled hand-mashings of Blut aus Nord's pre-"777" works, Idololatriae and Knell were a pleasant surprise and departure from the oft-melodic leanings of Chaos Moon, but "O For A Thousand Tongues To Sing" is a much more traditional track given Esoterica's experimentally-bent scope. A smattering of blistering riffs, Esoterica's trademark atonality takes a backseat to a greater focus on aggression, bringing about comparisons to, say, Black Witchery's awkward, well-read son, or early Darkthrone high on salvia divinorum. An odd, probably quick transformation to Esoterica's sound, but definitely appreciated.

Krieg is a household name. I mean, let's face it, you can't discuss the impetus of the United States black metal movement without at least mentioning N. Imperial's groundbreaking work with his pet project. Following the trend of "wow, what a strange performance" found on this split, "This Time I'll Leave You To Drown" is one of Krieg's rare, more melodic moments, akin to some of the band's more recent work on The Isolationist. Trudging at a consistent, mid-paced plod, thick guitars follow a rarely changing rhythm figure, concentrating more on various melodic and harmonic themes found within the repeating "main theme." Our friends in Iron Hops cite The Cure as a possible source of influence, and, given Imperial's reputation for covering songs in that vein, I definitely can see it (especially with the distant lead which whispers its way in as the track moves on). Of course, Imperial's voice is as gravelly and gross as ever, but this time something seeps through the anger; dare I say something mournful? As always, Krieg never fails to impress.

Labelhead Nathan Kite returns as a means of closing this short split with his own solo project The Many. For such a short track, "Infinite Wisdom" is some eerie material. Based in an ambient-ish sort of "doom rock," Kite's voice covers the gamut of disgusting, animalistic rasps, deep bellows, and an odd, almost whining clean voice (the latter caught me off guard). A unique, haunting song, I definitely will look further into The Many's discography.

Though "New World Black Metal" once referred to "black metal of the new world," I can't help but feel this 7" re-connoted that phrase. We are in a new age, a new world, and who is to say black metal can't change with that? Bands like Krieg, who have been around from the beginning, are more than enough proof that things can evolve while maintaining a sense of identity. This is a black metal split, just...different. My only complaint? Gosh, this sure is short. Can there be a New World Black Metal, Part II?

-Jon

Encircling Sea - "A Forgotten Land" [Replenish/Sick Man Getting Sick/Natural World Records]

I'm getting soft. For a while, I couldn't really stand the whole new wave of "natural world"-themed black metal. I outlined the depth of my hatred in a review of Wolves in the Throne Room's Celestial Lineage, but, after mulling down to it, it all really boiled down to the feeling of exclusivity. You know, the kids with ripped up pants telling other people that they weren't "truly" playing black metal because they didn't pocket compost. Looking back, it's pretty funny that this got to me as much as it did. I was able to enjoy "tr00 christraping war metal," even with the multitudes of hilarious "Satanic overlords" (did anyone see some of the getups at the first Cathedral of the Black Goat fest last year? Jesus.), but, for some odd reason, a bunch of idealistic crust punks who liked to bring elements of neocrust into black metal really, really got me going, enough to where I avoided the style altogether. I know, immature and stuff, but the gradual chipping away infuriated me, much like the gradual burn a father hears as his children repeat "Are we there yet?" ad nauseum. In my silly protest, I ended up forcing myself to not listen to quite a few unique and compelling bands, unfortunately including Australian black metal act Encircling Sea, whose I and Ecru were constant listens.

A Forgotten Land makes me glad I've since grown up. The third chapter of Enclircling Sea's discography is a continuation of the sound they had presented on 2010's Ecru -  an eclectic mix of post-rock, sludge, black metal, and folk, based largely in vast, atmospheric expanse, though A Forgotten Land pushes the majestic black metal influence further into the foreground. A collection of four lengthy tracks, totaling almost seventy minutes in length, A Forgotten Land  opens with the ethereal, trudging doom of "Yearn," which flows seamlessly into a flowing stream of low-end black metal and beautiful ambiance within its eighteen minutes of existence. Front man Robert Allen's gruff singing voice makes a fitting entrance in a particularly powerful buildup, leading into a mid-paced, almost post-punk-inspired dual guitar harmony. "Transcend" follows a similar progression, constantly building ontop of itself, much like climbing a seemingly never ending mountain; the length seems daunting, but the culmination makes the journey worth it.

At ten and a half minutes in length, "Become" is the shortest offering on this album, but it is by far the most memorable. With "Become," Encircling Sea more than effectively morphs into a neofolk band, melding their tasteful post-rock mentality with delicately strummed acoustic guitars, bowed string instruments, and a beautiful vocal duet between Robert Allen and his wife Ramanee. I first listened to this album on a long bike ride, and it was with this track that A Forgotten Land and I really clicked, fitting perfectly with my snow-flecked rural surroundings. I might have disliked the whole "nature metal" thing before, but when you listen to it in the right setting...things begin to make sense.

The perfect foil to its neofolk predecessor, A Forgotten Land closes with the mighty "Return," a twenty-minute adventure through some of Encircling Sea's most aggressive material to date. While still based in the band's trademark majestic scope, the pummeling nature of its bottom-heavy doom and break-neck black metal highlights this four-piece's ability to match their soaring heights with grimy, harsh depth. Keeping their harshness in check with acoustic interludes and layered clean voices, "Return" is the culminating point of A Forgotten Land, merging each point of influence into its densest form, presenting Encircling Sea's aim at its clearest.

Encircling Sea's massive return is as welcome as it is enjoyable. A beautiful demonstration of nature's might, A Forgotten Land's pastoral mix of dreamy sludge and atmospheric black metal is one of the most impressive offerings in its musical "scene." Replenish Records has graciously made A Forgotten Land available for a "pay as you want" download, with any digital proceeds going directly to the Still Wild Still Threatened charity. Of course, if digital isn't for you, it is also available as a double LP and CD, both limited and definitely worth the dough. It's albums like this which make me wonder why the hell I even bothered getting so worked up before, but this refreshing return makes it all the more worth it.

-Jon

Vulgar Fashion - "Vulgar Fashion" (2013) [Handmade Birds Records]

I'm a real sucker for goth music. You know, the morose, downtempo jams, fronted by a baritone sadsack who can just barely hang onto the loose, half-spoken melody while the three-or-four-piece (depends if there's synthesizer or not) rips through some of the most self-loathing, danceable melancholia this side of the Eurhythmics. Yeah, I'm overgeneralizing, and it might even sound like I maybe even mocking the style, but I swear on my life that I love the stuff. It took a while for me to warm up to it, especially with my own preconceived notions of outward appearance, but now I'm lucky if I can go a week without busting out something from the recently defunct Wierd Records backcatalog.

All that being said, its the upbeat, saccharine goth pop of Denton, Texas's Vulgar Fashion which falls just outside my comfort zone. Residing somewhere between the bizarre, occult-inspired sounds of Mater Suspiria Vision and  the sugar-fueled sadness a child feels, watching the melted remains of their half-eaten, colorful ice cream cone mix with sidewalk grit, Vulgar Fashion's sickeningly sweet electropunk sits on the exact opposite end of the goth spectrum from the Joy Division-inspired bands I so love. Oversaturated colors, raw, noisy synthesizers, and undeniably danceable beats are the name of the game here, with a sound more akin to a meth-cut-with-sand-fueled dayglo rave than smokey, poorly-lit dive bars, and I can't help but love it. This five-song EP is a collection of hyperbummed pop hooks, sickeningly sweet synthesizers, and an oddly uncomfortable atmosphere, only aided by its oddly full, characteristically scratchy sound.

Clocking in at a brief twenty minutes, Vulgar Vashion's self-titled debut is a hardly-controlled burn through some of this decade's oddest, catchiest tunes. Though this hearkens back to the glory days of the '80s, these tunes are as fresh as they are edgy, and I can't help but thank R. Loren for taking on another relatively unknown local act for the world to see. These ain't your mama's goth jams, but she might be intrigued if you show her the digitally scrambled, hyper-saturated cover of your very own Vulgar Fashion 10" or CD, which you can preorder NOW, perhaps alongside the new Soft Kill 7" if you feeling especially gothic. Visceral-dark-analog-night pop? Most certainly so.

-Jon

Ash Borer - "Bloodlands" (2013) [Gilead Media]

My relationship with Ash Borer has been, well, let's say interesting. I remember really getting into them around the time their first demo came out some four years ago, right at the peak of the "first wave of Cascadian Black Metal hype" (oh Jesus), and with good reason. While most of their "scene" (I'll keep my thoughts on it to myself, but if you do some digging, you can find my sentiments) relied on sprawling, heady songwriting, focusing more slight melodies hidden among layer upon layer of harmony, Ash Borer liked their melodies, and melody is what drove their music home. As opposed to taking their songs in as a whole, which works for some, I would find myself humming a melody from their first demo or split with Fell Voices (who will be releasing a new full-length this year), and would find myself wanting to listen to the entire half-hour demo or twenty-minute-long song if not just to get the satisfaction of hearing that one melody in its given context. That worked for them, and that's what set bands like, but not limited to, Ash Borer and Fauna, whose Avifauna continues to impress, apart from the Weaver-school of lackluster black metal, which, unfortunately, seems to be doing much better in the larger public spectrum.

Then, with the release of their first, self-titled, full-length, Ash Borer radically changed their sound to something a bit more...traditional in scope. Raw, menacing, and not as melodic, Ash Borer's full-length engagements were built upon large, desolate landscapes; what happens when the forests of their region are gone. A complete about-face, focusing on the majesty of ugly emptiness. While I enjoy delving into Ash Borer and last year's Cold of Ages every once in a while, they don't really "do it" for me like their earlier work. Not to say that these albums aren't good, quite the contrary, actually, it's just that I didn't feel as drawn in this time around.

Bloodlands converted me once again. A two-song EP whose length rivals most full-length recordings, the menacing atmospheres found on this soon-to-be-released slab of wax seem to be the culmination of Ash Borer's apocalypse-bent approach. Opening with a lone, slowly-plucked guitar and a very eerie, warbling synthesizer drone, "Oblivion's Spring" explodes into a miasma of slithering sound - walls of crawling guitar and distant, pained shrieks, which have since become an Ash Borer staple, at their most terrifying and atonal, echoing throughout the cavernous emptiness of dead earth. The speed and wrath of "Oblivion's Spring" is paired perfectly with the aptly-titled "Dirge/Purgation," whose midpaced near-muscle acts as both a solemn funeral procession ("Dirge") and forced cleansing ("Purgation") for this monstrous EP. This is Ash Borer at their most blackened, their most frightening, and their most succinct, and, yes, it does take 34 minutes for Ash Borer to make their point as clearly as possible.

What sets Bloodlands above and beyond Ash Borer and Cold of Ages is the extra attention Ash Borer paid to their use of texture. Though N., who you might know from my personal favorite Servile Sect, has been part of Ash Borer on synthesizer from the band's crux, I really feel like he never had a chance to shine, mostly pushed into the background on previous albums as a sort of background texture, something you'd hear after many listens and appreciate later on. Bloodlands shows Ash Borer using the synthesizer to its fullest potential, filling in all the cracks with alien sound and hitting the listener with a fluctuating sense of uneasiness, wavering as either track moves on, phasing in and out of familiarity. A personal favorite moment happens during "Purgation," in which the synthesizer slowly pitch shifts, following an extended, bent guitar note. Though it only happens a couple times throughout the track, and only lasts a moment at that, but the attention to minor details like utilizing the pitch shifting knob on the synthesizer shows an extreme attention to detail which is fully realized, resulting in endless, unique textures much like the one I just described. It might seem like I'm only concentrating on the synthesizer use here, but, in reality, it's made all the difference! The solid songwriting was there, it just needed to fully manifest itself with a fitting, fully-engulfing atmosphere, which, frankly, could only have been brought about by clear, attentive, and louder synthesizer work.

Is Bloodlands a win? Certainly so in my book, and I'm glad to hold Ash Borer in such high regard once more. The creepy sounds found within this two-song EP are a refreshing take on the oft-melodic and unoffensive "new school of US black metal," and may even be a herald of change...but hopefully not a tidal wave of change. Bloodlands will be available via Gilead Media very, very soon. Keep your eyes peeled for a pre-order, which should be up within the next week.

-Jon

Devourment - "Conceived in Sewage" (2012) [Relapse]

This is my least favorite Devourment album.

I want to make this clear, since those of you who read "writer" tags around here may have noticed that I'm in love with the avant-garde, I've been gurgling about pregnant sluts and whores for most of my "adult" life. [Dear god, I hope my mother doesn't read this. -V.]

Devourment has been a long-term influence on my musical choices, sending me through hordes of other slam bands looking for sustained sickening gurgles to match Wayne Knupp's and the slamming grooves that reach down and grab your hips. Grab them. But while fueling my car during one of my recent very-repeated listenings of "Conceived in Sewage," I had to make my own gurgly rhythms and hip-shaking grooves.

Really, it's a solid entry in the field of moderately nondescript death metal albums, with reasonably appealing gurgles (Majewski, if you're responsible for the bursts of comprehensible English on this album, I will have my revenge), heavy blasts of chugging chords, and fairly technical drums--which aren't a surprise after 2009's "Unleash the Carnivores." But it's not 1.3.8, no matter how much better the production (Erik Rutan) has gotten. And I honestly miss the messy pingy snare chaos.

Like Majewski said in the press bio, "Conceived in Sewage" is "a bit of a throwback to old school brutal bands." But that's not what makes Devourment legendary in a way that most of those nameless bands can't touch, and they didn't touch the glory of old Suffocation. I won't leave when I hear these songs live, but I won't be throwing myself around quite the same way.

Black Boned Angel - "The End" (2013) [Handmade Birds Records]

Black Boned Angel is dead. Having dragged a small army of dedicated listeners through audio hell since the Supereclipse EP some ten years ago, unleashing an arsenal of albums and collaborations along the way, another one of noise mastermind Campbell Kneale's (Birchville Cat Motel, Our Love Will Destroy The World) projects has met its demise. An immovable force of harsh, oppressive drone/doom metal, Black Boned Angel's pounding, pulsating masses of bleak, bass-heavy square-wave worship has proven to be a feat of discipline and deference to the drone.

On the subject of discipline, it is discipline which rules a great portion of The End, the aptly named closing of the cycle for Black Boned Angel. Comprised of three lengthy, lengthy forays into the blackest of pitch and furthest distance of sustained feedback, it is the duo of Campbell Kneale and James Kirk's tasteful balance of calculated, pummeling drone/doom and free, bottom heavy noise churn which makes Black Boned Angel's final chapter a most gripping, terrifying, and intriguing expiration to an already inspiring and exciting existence. Hearkening back to their first collaboration with fellow drone aficionados in Nadja, the achingly beautiful Christ Send Light, The End features some of Kneale and Kirk's most radiant sound construction, relying on complex chord structure, subtle use of melody, and massive, skyward harmony to function as a sort of "light at the end of the tunnel." It's not all beauty, though, as the resplendence turns to decay; the heavy percussion disappears and is replaced by a horrifying, scraping layer of noise, while the once-beautiful guitars descend into a droning monotone. It is at this point that one realizes that The End might not just be Black Boned Angel's final declaration, but their own representation of death itself. Though death is romanticized in literature and music, it is very obviously a horrifying, harrowing experience, fading in and out of consciousness, the reliving of past experiences, the questioning of the metaphysical. It's all here, hidden within the crashing waves of guitar, painful shrieks, tendon-snapping percussion, and disconcerting noise.

Somewhere in "II" our protagonist's final agony ends, and the rest of this movement of The End is a magnificent eulogy, both for our fallen friend and Black Boned Angel itself. If the introduction was the beginning of their twilight hours, manifesting itself as the sunset we see on the album cover, then this halfway point is a clear night sky with a painted moon. There are no stars. It is beautiful. Quiet, twinkling piano cuts through the monolithic, melodic guitar, just loud enough to barely obscure the unassuming, sung voices, fading ever so slowly into a dull drone. This is the end.

But what comes next? Nothingness. Horrifying nothingness. Trudging along at a relative mid-pace, "III"'s more traditional "doom" gait is an oppressive one, hitting like a sack of hammers. Although harmonious, there is an unsettling character to this final statement, oscillating through its sixteen-and-a-half minute span. It is a grand declaration. "We are through." A magnificent end to one of doom metal's most obscure and acquired tastes. Will Campbell venture into the doom metal world again in the future? I certainly hope so.

The End is also one of the most deluxe-packaged CDs I have in my collection. As if being housed in a lotus-style wallet wasn't enough, both that and an oversized insert are placed inside a printed 6.5x6.5" envelope, which is then inserted into a 7x7" translucent envelope with a larger insert. Eight pieces in all. Hand-numbered out of five-hundred. A necessity.

RIP Black Boned Angel.

-Jon

Grouper - "The Man Who Died In His Boat" (2013) [Kranky]

Nothing really fulfills my need for drifting, trance-inducing folk music in the same way Liz Harris's Grouper does. Much like the rest of the world, I fell in love within the first few minutes of her 2008 LP Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill and haven't looked back since. With Grouper, Harris smolders and crackles quietly as the rest of the world sleeps soundly in their tents. With each new release an experiment in audio vulnerability, be it the stark nudity of an unaccompanied voice or the simplicity of a blurry, 4-track-recorded guitar and voice elegy, it is Grouper who embodies every extreme found within the world of dreamy music.

The title The Man Who Died In His Boat originates from a story of Harris's childhood in which an abandoned sailboat beached itself behind her home. She dwells upon the circumstances - whose boat was it? How did this sailboat come to be abandoned? Did its owner die? The answers are all lost with the ages, an abstraction which pervades Harris's body of work, but unveils itself in its most balanced form in The Man Who Died In His Boat. A collection of unreleased songs which were recorded in the same sessions as Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill, The Man's song-based gait echoes its sister album, but with an atmosphere similar to a delicate smudging of a freshly-drawn ebony portrait - though the idea is still noticeable, it is the further blurring of the set boundaries which makes the distinction between the The Man and Dragging A Dead Deer all the more clear. Harris's guitar playing, an array of simple fragments of songwriting, often left rudimentary and without any sort of harmonic expansion, possesses its characteristic distance, blurred with a smattering of delay, but it is with the treatment of her voice that The Man transcends clarity and becomes the drone. Endlessly looped and hidden under multiple layers of delay, Harris's voice transforms from angelic to extraterrestrial, functioning more as a drone than the source of melody on previous efforts. Again, I return to the "balance" I had referenced earlier - Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill was by far Harris's most concrete work of songwriting, a source of clarity lost among the haze, and yet the A I A diptych which followed was a return to the hyper abstraction of old, manifesting overall as works of "drone" rather than "dronefolk." The Man Who Died In His Boat falls somewhere in the middle of those two eras, floating around on a cloud all its own.

Though The Man Who Died In His Boat technically isn't a new Grouper album, it is the answer we needed to the question which resided between Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill and A I A. How did Liz Harris end up in a realm of such disparate abstraction? It is here, and it is exactly what we Grouper fans needed to hear...and yet, even more questions arise. Did the man ever reunite with his boat? Is he still among the living? How has Grouper evolved since A I A? Our storyteller's uncertainty is apparent, and it is the most morose sort of lovely.

The Man Who Died In His Boat, as well as the fourth LP repress of Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill are currently available via Kranky.

-Jon