The Last Walk is made up of the titular composition which runs for over 25 minutes and is a hybrid of both traditional, gothic and funeral doom with industrial pistons compressing the song into a thick, gooey paste.  If you stuffed Godflesh, Skepticism, Warning and Morgion into a sack you might end up with Owl.  A withered trunk of synth drone and bark-stripped, melody guitars are occasionally offset thanks to some bass-y plunges that go straight to the bottom of the well and break off the bucket.  From the very first note I felt any positivity I had left in my system from the day drained out by a sucking, vampiric bite.

It takes nearly 5 leisurely minutes for Kolf to drop a burly, molten-doom riff into the mix, accompanied with his funeral pyre, goth-y baritone.  The delivery has a little more rise and higher-register expressiveness to it than say Peter Steele’s school of low n’ slow, but it’s still coming from the swamp of the soul.  An additional chord change is added to the main riff and things really get to digging into a juicy progression that sounds like Morgion on their way to the grave in a wooden casket.  Percussion-wise, this death in slow motion affair barely has a pulse except for a brief marching snare segment which crests the vibe back into a psychedelic, demon-haunted nether.  The vocals eventually plunge into a death-y, gothic rasp in a few instances, yet nothing I would call an outright, straight from the toes growl/gurgle associated with the funeral doom genre…it’s kind of there but it kind of isn’t at the same time.  An autumnal, vocal mantra of “Get born, get ready to die,” begins as sung and ends on a scream, yielding perhaps the strongest lyrical moment on the EP.

Everything is golden till about the 10:30 mark, the verbal grittiness and riff variety getting a little too tender for its own good, and the trippy death-rock instrumentation losing its direction for a nihil drone that doesn’t equate to too much.  Christian does bring back another mighty riff bent with some Sabbath/Candlemass might and his delightfully wrathful, screaming vocal vengeance that adds a few extra kilograms to the tune’s mass density, returning the attack to an altar with some semblance of destination again, which is quickly desecrated for a finish that’s too heavy on the Swedish melody and painfully lacking forceful, climactic guitar muscle.  Don’t get me wrong, 13:30 till 18:00 is fuckin’ perfect, though I can’t help but feel that this section should have been substituted for the endpoint.  To be honest, the second half’s five o’ clock shadow could have received a beneficial beard trim and the song would have been just as hairy and manly as it needed to be without all of the extras.  The space-y parts have their place, but they really just bog the song down when the riffs and other arrangements are this good.  Owl did enough psyching out in the build-up to sort of nullify its further implantation.  That’s but the opinion of one asshole though, and your mileage may vary.

Shave about 10 minutes off The Last Walk and I wouldn’t have any complaints.  This deranged duo certainly forges the appropriate primitive tools to make their special brand of 3 chord dirge stick.  Whenever the riffs are taking hold, coupled with the vocals there’s a helluva of an impact.  Like I said, they remind me of a really barren version of Morgion circa the Solinari masterpiece whenever they’re in that mode.  The introspective stuff is a nice addition, but I think it saps the energy out of the recording beyond the opening and drag Christian’s larynx down a bit as well.  Kolf’s vocals are good too.  They mostly never take it too sad, and whenever he whips into a glass shard cut caterwaul the mark is hit.  As it stands, this is an above average release that leaves me curious about their past works and their inherent potential on future outings.  It’s close, but I’m afraid this doesn’t quite have me reaching for the cigar box just yet.

Sorry guys. I still don’t get it.

First off, this is my first exposure to Valborg (sorry Jordan Campbell- I never even listened to that downloaded promo of Barbarian) so I can’t comment of compare to previous releases other than the band still apparently retain their quirky off kilter take on typically eclectic German black /doom metal.

The name I’ve seen thrown around amid all the praise I’ve seen is Tryptikon/Celtic Frost (Monotheist) and that seems fitting based on these listens. Throw in some native eccentricity, atmospherics and oddball time structures as well as some innate Teutonic moods a la Secrets of the Moon and the band’s label mates, you get some idea of the band’s rather undefinable sound. Though to be honest- Valborg‘s sound is so foreign to me, I’m having a hard time describing it, so take all that with a grain of salt.

So, I imagine to some, its this ‘undefinable-ness’ an ‘foreign-ness’  is what makes Valborg essential to many. The Semi chanted/spoken German vocals littered with deeper grunts and screams, the off kilter time changes and the oft meandering, plodding pacing, the either droning or scatter shot riffs all seem typically German in their measured  and precise manic-ness. However, I personally don’t see the allure, preferring the relative safety of catchy or memorable riffs and structured songs over creative escapism and unpredictability. And the rare moment when Valborg do settle into a steady traditional metal gait and  straight forward riff (i.e “Kloster”, “Under the Cross”, “Massaker in St Urstein”) I can see the allure.  But other wise, the likes of “Sakrale Vernichtung”, ” Ich fresse die alte Sommernacht”, “Zyklop”,  “Springtime Woman” and “Tempelberg” just bore me to fucking tears  rather than enthrall with their  minimalist plod and rather haughty artistic expressionism .

But no doubt the elite of the elite listeners, those wearing black turtle necks,  listening to Krautrock and attend poetry reading a well as listen to metal, will no doubt ‘get’ this as they sneer down on us lowly metal Neanderthals though their hipster glasses (Am I the only one of picture Deiter  Sprockets listening to this?). But hey- metal is often about exploration and I applaud Valborg for being off the beaten path.

Bear in mind, this is all merely one person’s lowly opinion,  and I imagine this is the kind of release  that folks who enjoyed the latest Necrovation release will enjoy, as it sort of a barrier breaking, envelope shredding, structureless, sonic exhibitionism that many folks enjoy. So go ahead, I’m going to listen to the new Zombified. Journalistic credibility be damned.

If you’ve heard Woburn Hourse, Valborg or Island, you’ll recognize Kolf right away. He’s got a rich, somnolent baritone, which he shapes into a musical croak one moment, or a smooth and flowing lament the next. With Skarab, he’s allowed to be a lot more playful as well, twisting his vocals into Tom Waits-like croons, soft murmurs and forbidding spoken word.

The music is equally as playful, though it paints with a largely bleak and miserable palette – kind of the arty, grungy, alt-doom version of Woburn House. It sounds like the kind of thing Peter Steele and Layne Staley might be playing right now in whatever shadowy underworld they’ve consigned themselves to. Once David Bowie kicks over, he can join them too – there’s a lot here that recalls his otherworldly brand of strut and theatrics.

All of this sounds good on paper, but the record is kind of a snooze. The lurching, leg-dragging pace of tracks like “Heat,” “Stone Torches” or “The Rabbi of Weeds” are appropriately doomy, but the simplistic riffing sounds like it’s been exhumed from a ’90s grunge bargain bin. More progressive tracks like “Horus,” with its chiming, progressive wanderings and thumping bass work, or “I Am the Winding Stair,” with its more insistent rhythm and haunting melody, are more compelling and listenable, but on the whole, I’ve found this a chore to get through every time I’ve put it on – despite Kolf’s obvious talents and the fact that I’ve been a huge fan of Steffens’ work in the past (particularly Klabautamann‘s Merkur, a shining example of black/progressive metal that’s a must-listen for any fan of Enslaved or Ihsahn).

Ultimately, this will appeal to those of you who like odd, avant-garde material like Tom Waits and Scott Walker, doom fans looking for something outside the norm, or fans of the aforementioned Zeitgeister acts. It just wasn’t for me.

As for myself, I enjoy all of the above, but if there’s one emotional response I generally don’t seek out, it’s the crushing despair that comes from the darkest, most funereal depths of doom. It makes me wonder, though: do most of you heavy doom fans submerge yourselves in sadness as a way to echo and release your pain? Or do you simply like it down there?

Whatever your answer, you might want to try the new release from Germany’s Woburn House the next time you need to bum yourself out. It’s fucking miserable.

And not miserable in the way that most funeral doom evokes those waves of suffocating despair. This is nowhere near as crushing; in fact, its vaguely glimmering, chiming guitar tone offers an experience at once bright and bleak. Instead, its misery comes from an unending tension between hopelessness and relief. Almost every song on Sleep Summer Storm seems to yearn towards some kind of salvation, yet it can only graze it with its fingertips.

Musically, I was reminded of a lot of terrific acts while picking my way through the gloomy tangle. I heard the lush and loping goth rock of Fields of the Nephilim in opener “Willow,” the hypnotic drone of early Katatonia in “Rain Keeps Falling Down” and “Behind You,” and earthy dark-country act 16 Horsepower in the dissonance of “Clash” and the lullaby-like title track. There’s even a Tangerine Dream-like synth that drones beneath many of the tracks; an unexpected touch that adds the right air of alien coldness. However, Woburn House doesn’t really sound like any of these bands. They’ve crafted their own unique palette and writing approach; at once warm and dead.

A huge part of the impact is delivered by vocalist Christian Kolf, also of Valborg and Island. He stays at a low croak (Peter Steele and Layne Staley both come to mind) for much of the album, but crests into a ragged and insistent wail when it seems as if he’s about to break free of his misery. Of course, the well he’s trying to climb is slick and difficult, and he slides back down, again and again. He’s occasionally joined by another lost soul as well – a ghostly falsetto vocal that only appears in wisps and faint laments. Whenever it appears, the effect is chilling and unsettling.

Ultimately, this isn’t an album I’ll play often – perhaps never again – simply because it’s just so draining. It’s excellently crafted though, and far more of an artistic statement than the new Klabautamann album (also from Florian Toyka and Zeitgeister). If you’re the kind of doom fan that needs to wallow in your despair before rising up to face the day (or if you simply prefer to hole up in the gloom), then step into this Woburn House, lock the door and close the shutters. By the time you reach the brief and cathartic respite of the closing track, “Hood,” you might be ready to come out again.

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.