Their follow-up, The Old Chamber, made my 2011 list as well, but in a different category – one I called “Sorry Guys But the Last Album was Better.”

That’s not to say that this is bad – not the case, as it’s well-crafted and nicely produced. The problem is, it’s just kind of dull. The band has said in interviews how they wanted to go “back to their roots” and drop the progressive elements for this one, but going to back to their roots also means taking a step backwards. And after achieving such a unique sound on Merkur, I don’t think this was a great idea.

The album establishes a mid-paced trudge right from opener “Mary’s Abbey,” and rarely picks up after that. There are ominous melodies galore, and they’re actually somewhat pleasant to listen to, though not terribly exciting or innovative. (I did like the sustained notes held above the droning guitars in that first track though.) “Bog Spawn” is a bit better, with a shimmery Enslaved riff which sounds like it could have been on Below the Lights. This glides into a lovely section woven with multiple strands of acoustics – a nice sign that Klabautamann hasn’t totally abandoned their diverse talents from Merkur.

A few other moments catch my attention as the album drifts by – some Gorgoroth-lite meets old Slayer licks in “Dead Marshes,” the uniquely braying keyboard tones at the end of “Gloom,” some lurching, Opeth-y riffs in “Death’s Canvas,” and the old-school Swedish death riffs in “The Maze.” There’s also the instrumental title track – an eerie, off-kilter acoustic dirge with dancing gypsy fingering – which nicely matches the cool, peculiar cover art.

On paper, that all sounds interesting enough, but these snippets are all lost in a mostly muted, sedate and drab black metal record which, if you’ve been listening to the genre for the past two decades, does really nothing new at all. And once again, this was likely Klabuatamann’s point – to pay homage, strip things down and get back to basics – but now I’m really hoping for two steps forward next time.

“Unter Baumen” kicks off with a big, swinging, rollicking riff and wet, gargly blackened vocals before a whiplash shift into a herky jerky passage that’s just this side of calliope goofiness. And then, just as abruptly, it calms to something much more sublime and graceful. So Opeth’s multi-segmented approach is definitely here, though Klabautamann’s shifts seem much more jarring and erratic. The softer sections really are lovely, though – especially the song’s quieter core, which is as rich, lilting and pensive as anything off of Damnation.

“When I Long for Life” features more of a traditional black metal churn, but laid atop jazzy, playful martial drum fills and the occasional acoustic guitar echoing above the blizzard. The layering is definitely Opeth, but the sound is not – and then just as I write that, the songs shifts once more into another headlong, swaggering riff, followed by a delicate interlude.

Every song on Merkur is an experience unto itself. Wait for the dueling jazz lines at the center of “Herbsthauch,” the deep, sonorous clean vocals that briefly arise during “Der Wald Ist Ein Meer,” or the clattery dream-within-a-nightmare-within-a-dream of the title track (and the Steely Dan gig that crops up halfway through). Moment after moment makes me go, shit yeah, that’s Opeth – but enough of the comparisons already – this is definitely what I was hoping to hear.

And before you cry copycat, let me say that Klabautamann is distinctly black metal and bizarre and a mythical beast all their own, without ever being aggressively ostentatious like so many other avant-garde outfits. Instead, they’re just consistently inventive and surprising – and talented as hell – in the same way as that… other band is. I won’t mention their name again, but chances are, those of you who are also rabid fans are no longer reading this anyway and are off trying to find this gem of a release.

Top 10 of the year for sure and a hell of a find. You can thank Dimaension X yourself on the boards.