I don’t know. But it’s full of emotion

It’s not happy.

No. It’s not happy”- from “Eternal Unrest”.

Crikey. so I thought Christian Consentino was the only solo artist from Australia making epic, classically inspired, symphonic progressive black metal. Well, apparently there is another one who has been around a while (and I now hear as a clear influence to Cosentino’s superb Lawn EP) and his name is Horace ‘Waldorf’ Rosenqvist (though it is possible they are the same guy?, have they ever been seen in a room together??????), goes under the moniker Aquilus, and he already has somewhat revered full-length album under his belt from 2011 called Griseus.

Apparently in the works since 2013, Bellum I ( Bellum II is forthcoming), is over an hour of utterly enthralling classical music that has black metal in it. Self admittedly using Chopin and Rachmaninoff as his influence, rather than Cosentino’s lighter, airy, uplifting Handel inspired pieces, you get darker, more harrowing, atonal, and twistier moods (one just need to look at the two album covers to see the comparison), though there are plenty of moments of clarity and beauty, and the black metal element is a little harsher and more jarring than Cosentino’s slightly less developed variant. But like Cosentino, it all comes together to form something truly special, especially those patient enough to sit through the lengthy run time and large expansive moments of piano and string orchestration that flesh out this magnificently ambitious piece.

Orchestration of many styles has become commonplace across metal’s sub-genres (Emperor, Rhapsody, Summoning, Hollenthon, Maladie, Fleshgod Apocalypse, So Hideous, Lorna Shore etc), but its largely a dramatic, bombastic sweeping movie score type backdrop. But here it’s far more intricate and compositionally intertwined and often standalone. And reviewing such a complex and largely classical music-inspired piece of music is difficult (can you imagine if there were blogs and zine in the 1500-1700s trying to review Mozart? et al???).  At times I get a Scholomance and late Emperor  due to the complexity of both the classic and black metal elements and it’s clear that Rosenqvist is a virtuoso master of his craft that simply is beyond my journalistic comprehension. But Bellum I has to be taken in as a single piece of work, much like his classic peers, and on good headphones.

After an intro, the first real track, “Into Wooded Hollows” delivers a jarring transition into a dark, lumbering opening few bars that show this isn’t peppy, pompous symphonic. It’s an unwelcoming start to the album, that’s not an easy listen, and frankly almost has me give up, but things slowly transition to a more listenable orchestral closeout. 13 minute “Eternal Unrest” is where the album starts to really take off with some nice riffs to go with the orchestration. “Moon Isabelline” is 5+ minutes of some gorgeously, dramatic piano work before|”The Silent Passing” renders some very interesting stuttering almost discordant death metal riffage, and gruffer vocals that border on Ebonylake like craziness though it never quite gets over into Golden Ashes, De Magia Veterum bat shit insanity.

“Embered Waters” delivers another instrumental segue, before “Lucille’s Gate” delivers the album’s standout with more traditional, bombastic, symphonic black metal frostiness and prose, but a jarring acoustic midsection, keeps things off-kilter and keep you on your toes. Closer “Empyreal Nightsky” is spacey music you’d hear at a Planetarium presentation, and as an almost 10 minute, purely instrumental, symphonic piece, which is rare on a ‘metal’ album, it highlights the challenge the album presents to the casual metal listener. But as a purely neo-classical composition, it’s gorgeous.

As an endnote, this is one of the more challenging reviews I’ve had to write and one of the more challenging albums I’ve listened to in a while. That said, it’s nice there are actual drums rather than Cosentinos’s programmed drums, and the Jen Bogren master is simply perfect making sure everything hits hard rather than the more traditional wispier orchestral presence in symphonic black metal. Ultimately, Bellum I is going to be pretty divisive as either a brilliant, ambitious year-end contender for many people or an overly gregarious self-indulgent piece of music. And I sway between the two almost daily.

Basically, people on social media post a side-by-side photo comparison of themselves when they were younger, more awkward, and not quite fully developed – next to a recent photo of their more grown up, mature, and (assumedly) more attractive selves. A modern-world representation of The Ugly Duckling, if you will.

From a cynical point of view, it’s just another attention-grab for people desperate for likes and approval from people they will never have to physically interact with. From an optimists’ point of view, it’s a means to show kids today that however weird and out-of-place you may feel in your life now, things can and do get better with time (and before I get into my usual bullshit, I cannot stress enough how important influences like these are to today’s youth).

To that end, Abigail Williams should be used as a prime example of a “Glow Up” to inspire young metalheads to keep working their craft.

If you had told me in 2006 when Ken Sorceron dropped the band’s first EP Legend, that almost 15 years later he’d release an album like Walk Beyond the Dark, I flat-out wouldn’t believe you. I’d have bet you ANYTHING the band wouldn’t make it more than a couple years before fading into the ether (and I’d have technically been right! As they briefly broke up as a band in 2007). Even listening to it now, with the proof directly in front of me, it’s difficult to fully comprehend. But alas; the ugly duckling that once struggled to blend an awkward cocktail containing parts Dimmu Borgir, The Black Dahlia Murder and Bleeding Through– has blossomed into a fully mature, beautiful beast of progressive, melodic black metal brimming with the kind of atmosphere that would make Enslaved step back and take notice.

Granted, the path Sorceron has taken to get to Walk Beyond the Dark has been an ever-evolving one. At times, it honestly felt more like aimless meandering than creative exploration. This is very evident throughout Abigail Williams’ catalogue of music, and as a result, it was always a struggle to really find any real identity with this project. With this album, Sorceron seems to have finally found his groove, and delivers his most confident, self-aware release to date.

Epic 10+ minute tracks like “Black Waves” and closer “The Final Failure” still show his willingness to take songs in a myriad of directions, but while past efforts may have felt clunkier or more forced (or in some cases like “Beyond The Veil” on 2012’s Becoming, just long for the sake of being long), this time around they progress much more naturally, making for wholly cohesive, satisfying efforts that are a pure joy from start-to-finish.

More comparatively straightforward songs like “Ever So Bold” and “Into the Sleep” still offer a depth of controlled, focused energy and complexity that Sorceron struggled to achieve with this much success on prior efforts, both boasting some of the album’s catchiest melodies and harmonies – think Ghost Bath minus the, uh, divisive vocals.

Sorceron has also managed to bring some former elements of Abigail Williams’ back catalogue back into the mix, albeit in much more subtle and successful ways. Where in early efforts he really put grandiose, epic orchestrations to the forefront, here he layers in some really beautiful string elements that give much of the album an almost dreamlike quality. Some clean vocals even make it back into the fold – used much more sparingly and, to these ears, much more cleverly than they were on early records; adding an element that once stuck out like a sore thumb, but now serve as real highlights on the album.

While Ken Sorceron’s musical talent was never in question, his journey with Abigail Williams has been fraught with inconsistency, almost as if it was never really a finished product. Now, after over a decade, it seems he’s finally really found himself. For anyone who may have stopped paying attention or simply given up on this project, I strongly recommend giving it one more shot with this record – because I genuinely think you’ll be really nicely surprised. I know I certainly was. Abigail Williams has glowed the fuck up.

I had seen the first two albums (2013 Self titled and 2015s  An Antidote for the Glass Pill) from these guys reviewed with overwhelmingly positive results on these very pages, so I thought I would give the third album a go. And while I’m not coming away with the same warm glow as my peers, I can see how Lychgate’s avant garde take on doom could be seen as genius. However, I’m leaning more toward the insane side of the fence.

With members of  revered doom act Esoteric (Greg Chandler) as well as folks from an array of genres such as Macabre Omen, The One, Ancient Ascendant and such the bloodlines explain the eclectic approach sometimes blacker hues as well as heavy use of church organs and chants. But for me, doom metal, even it its more ambitious forms, is about crushing despondency and mood, and Lychgate is a far more bipolar, unpredictable beats that to these ears comes across like Paradise Lost‘s debut played  on vinyl with a bunch of scratches that make the riffs jump about and skip while feverish escaped asylum folks play a church organ and chant in the back ground.

As I stated in my opening paragraph, to some, this sound will be considered a year best, genius, forward thinking, grandiose atavistic, affair. And to others, (me) an exercise in doom paced chaos akin to Pan Thy Monium on barbiturates, but the church organ replacing the Saxophone.  And that’s a shame, I enjoy Church Organs/ chants and crushing doom (used to perfection in Pantheist, who Chandler has helped out), but the riffs which stagger and scatter with paranoia and unease (again, some would consider brilliant and effective) never settle into anything I can truly appreciate or sink my teeth into or let wash over me in swathes of emotion.

It’s a jittery, jumpy, if still cavernous and doomy structure that’s encapsulated by the title track of sorts “The Contagion” , where off key pianos, chants, growls and clean croons and screams collide with lurching stop start riffs. Or opener “Republic”, where the church organs and riffs battle with lurching off key kaleidoscopic insanity.  All elements that I would typically enjoy on their own, but when colliding with such Dali-esque eccentricity, it loses some of it’s depth on me and a track like “Unity of Opposites” completely loses me.

The definition of avant garde isn’t lost on me here. I really wanted to love this, and can see how many will in fact, love this album. And I get that these guys are pushing the boundaries, but personally, I prefer the more toned down and traditional doom gait and  somber regality of closer “Remembrance”  with its Garm like clean vocals. But those wanting a more challenging, genre shattering take on doom metal, Lychgate will fuel your fever dreams perfectly.

An Antidote for the Glass Pill opens with “Unto My Tempest” which does a great job of setting the tone for this near fifty-minute effort.  The use of Organ throughout the entire album is prevalent and for the most part works very well with the overall composition of the song structures. Lychgate’s approach to Avant Garde Black Metal is well throughout and at times there is a Jazz/Progressive feel throughout. “Davamesque B2” opens up much that way with strong guitar lines with the key parts following along.

Citing influences like My Dying Bride, Esoteric, Morbid Angel and Radiohead, you can definitely say that Lychgate is the true definition of Avant Garde in terms of the way each track on An Antidote For The Glass Pill seems to show well thought out progressions that blend all of these components together creating a unique sound that really stand apart from other groups within this sub-genre.  Lychgate does an amazing job of blending that with strong classical influences from the likes of Bach, Shostakovich, and Liszt.  The Use of Pipe Organ is used almost as lead instrument and overall An Antidote For The Glass Pill is one of the surprising winning records of 2015.

For those looking for a unique approach to atmospheric Black Doom, Lychgate is a group for you.  An Antidote for the glass Pill is an album to be remembered and I am excited to watch Lychgate to continue to evolve in their song structures and the overall passion of this group is definitely there and makes for an enjoyable listen. Check this one out for sure!

Enter Irreversible Mechanism, from Minsk, Belarus and their fine debut Infinite Fields, originally self released but picked up for larger distribution by Finland’s Blood Music. Of interest to US metal fans is the fact that Lyle Cooper, who drummed on the last two The Faceless albums, is the session drummer here giving the duo of Yaroslav Korotkin (bass/vocals), and Vladislav Nekrash (guitars) a little international credibility, but based on their skill and delivery outside of the drums, I’m not sure they needed it.

The backbone is a pretty standard, modern, clinical, widdly, tech death swarm of time changes, stuttering riffs and shrill solos ala Gorod, Obscura etc, and it in itself is pretty well done. But then you throw in full on orchestration and keys- not quite as theatrical or cinematic as Fleshgod Apocalypse, and maybe more sci fi/Nocturnus based (I get a little sense of Pestilence Spheres/Testimony of the Ancients here and there too) and you have an impressive debut from an impressive band.

None of the polished, confident, well played songs completely jump out at you or are commandingly memorable, as if often the downfall of tech death. But if you want deft musicianship and a mechanical sense of precise, brutality sheathed in some Dimmu  Borgir-ish (“Incipience”, “The Betrayer of Time”), spacey, orchestrated splendor, then Infinite Fields will serve you well.  From “Into the Void” through”Outburst” and the more fierce “The Agony”,  to the more controlled closer “Cold Winds”, careen and swirl with cosmic solos abound, shrill blast beats and some stuttering matches and ethereal majesty once in a while to let the keys breathe and swathe you in cosmic light and or/ the glow of a army of robots.

On the negative side, along with the innate genre issues, the album is a but sterile (but certainly fitting the band’s mileau), with a dry production and monotone deep growls and screams and none of the racks really peak or command your attention. For example, “Fragile” just really wants to explode like a nova amid its solos and epic keys, it sits on the edge, but never peaks or takes that final leap into something more special. Still though a very promising debut and entry into the genre from ma young duo that can only get better.

In a way, Kauan’s fifth album gathers up the previous releases and makes a statement of who they are now, moving quite effortlessly between some raspier overtones and the more delicate, humane experiences. The distorted guitars that pace onwards at slow speeds are a clear throwback to the band’s doom-ish outings of the past.

While on the outside Pirut might express itself as an esoteric and minimalistic release, it’s anything but as the songs float through like the change of seasons and various emotions all the way through its spin time. And just like our lives, the album is meant to be taken as a whole; while separated into eight sections, in reality it’s a one 40-minute track. Mastermind Antov Belov seems to throw in pretty much everything he has accumulated in his arsenal thus far throughout the years; the aforementioned doom metal sections, beautifully flowing, vulnerable scenic paintings and much more grandiose, symphonic celebrations — all seamlessly mixed together.

Take for example the short section after the halfway mark on track “IV”. A few years ago, Belov posted the section as a custom soundtrack to the trailer of Disney’s Crimson Wings movie — it was not hard to memorize those visuals once they hit the airwaves here. But unlike modern, streamlined Disney pieces, the music (rather than the track as a sole entity) moves on to harsher realms, all the while maintaining a longing for life.

The contrast is wide but all the time, mature and coherent. Everything serves a purpose and fits the big picture. At times, while the music and modus operandi are different, Pirut reminded me of The Gathering’s way of doing things (with a hint of Anathema on few occasions), even if at the moment, I have a hard time putting my finger to it… I also have to mention that Belov’s cleans are some of the best I’ve heard all year. While I’ll leave technical reviews to others, the sheer emotion and expressiveness is magical to me; especially when the man uses the Finnish language in such a different way than a native speaker would, emphasizing, stretching letters and vowels that shouldn’t be. Pure, joy.

With all that said and the journey being so rich and full of details that suck you in, this is Kauan’s hardest album yet. After a first few listens, it’s clear that the band has yet again managed to release an involving, long-lasting expedition. It really takes Pirut a long time to really sink in in all of its glory. And that’s just Pirut. The album ends in a burst (not unlike on “Suora Liila Sydänkäyrä”) that not only makes the 40-minutes go a full circle, but with Pirut going through the band’s whole discography (and then some), it also leaves the possibility to derive all sorts of correlations from nature’s cycles and humanity’s habit of repeating itself.

Yet, despite all that, Kauan keeps on moving forward and expanding. That’s something to be relished on its own.