Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Cormorant's Earth Diver
I've developed an increasingly bizarre relationship with Cormorant's music.
Before I begin I would first like to give a disclaimer: this is as much a written critique of Cormorant's style of music and the direction it's taken than a review of Earth Diver itself.
With that in mind...
I think it's safe to say I liked Metazoa from the start. After a few listens I liked it even more. After a few more listens I really began to see and understand that it was an incredible album, and somewhere along the way "liked" turned into "loved" and Matazoa climbed its way onto my all time favorite albums list, and there I think it will stay forever.
Dwellings was a little different. Everything about Dwellings indicated that it should live up to Metazoa. At the time of its release I think I was so used to Metazoa, and identifying Cormorant only with Metazoa, that I had a hard time letting Dwellings have the impact on me that it should have. There can be no doubt, Dwellings is brilliant. It's far more technical than any album needs to be to be good, it's tight and fluid all the way through (the band claimed it's even tighter and more focused than Metazoa), it's as dynamic as all get out, the songwriting and tempo variations are flawless, the riffs are melodic, the overlaying of instrumental melodies are executed with pinpoint accuracy... all signs indicated it was Cormorant. Unmistakably so. So I kept waiting for it to impact me the way Matazoa did.
Earth Diver is Dwellings redux. Not musically. But it is in terms of the response it's elicited. I want so badly to appreciate this the way I appreciated Metazoa, to feel those feelings again, to be impacted. I want it to feel fresh again. Metazoa was so fresh. Earth Diver feels burnt.
I think one of the problems I'm having with the music is the overabundance of melody. There are so many melodies stuck in here, and stuck in there, that the music feels forced. By forcing in so many melodies at every opportunity maximum emotional potential is trampled upon, and instead of hearing build ups or crescendos we just hear a different melody stuck in where it doesn't belong. Take the intro to "Solid As A Crow," which, like a lot of Cormorant's intros, is brilliant. At some point that melody altogether evaporates, and it's never replaced by anything that's as contextually appropriate or emotionally impactful.
"A Sovereign Act" is another example. If Cormorant had simply taken the theme of the first minute or so of the song, held onto it, expanded on it, built it up, there's no telling what heights the song could've soared to. As it stands, most all parts of the song are unmemorable and lackluster because nothing is fleshed out. Even the intro, which is, like the intro of "Solid As A crow," brilliant, is lost and suffers deemphasis in the endless sequence of subsequent riffs and tempos.
There is no flow. The songs never lock into a coherent groove. The riffs don't interlock at all and the songs just blaze on in no discernible direction with no sense of purpose. The listener is jolted around. Melodies and riffs cede endlessly into one another in an endless procession of, what amounts audibly to, wasted material and spent creativity.
The worst consequence of this formulaic approach to songwriting is lack of emotion. The music isn't inspiring. I could wrap my head around Metazoa. It wasn't too much. Dwellings and Earth Diver are just endless barrages of exhausting cycles of tunes that at times seem dysfunctional and conflated.
However, despite Cormorant's approach to writing music, in the way I've described above, there have been noticeable progressions in their sound from album to album. By this I mean that there have been significant enough differences from album to album to really highlight the direction Cormorant is heading in. Metazoa was more or less melodic death metal with some folk and black metal influences, Dwellings was progressive blackened folk metal, and Earth Diver is progressive black metal with fewer folk influences. Sure, Arthur Von Nagel's departure is noticeable, as everyone expected it to be, but Marcus's harsh vocals are just as strong if not stronger and they accompany Cormorant's blackened sound just fine. There are fewer folk elements on Earth Diver than on Metazoa and Dwellings, which makes the music all the more aggressive and progressive and exhausting. Earth Diver is a little darker than Cormorant's previous albums
Most good bands, at least the bands we'll remember decades from now, have discographies with traceable directions, and each album can be associated with a progression, a difference, while still being unmistakeably recognizable as an album by that band [insert memorable band]. Cormorant has all the traits of such a band. But the general feeling I get when listening to Earth Diver is that of, as I've already mentioned, complete exhaustion. The music tires me out. It's somehow, despite its intricacy and technicality, still repetitive and vapid. Their changes in direction have not remedied the issues they face as songsmiths.
With all that said, I'm positive there are a lot of people out there that would love Earth Diver if they unearthed it. The music is so technical. And there are so many avid tech death fans out there. Cormorant's music could be a bridge gap between fans of a number of different genres. Cormorant has as much potential as any metal band I've heard. Their talent and passion is absolutely undeniable and they have enough creative juice to fuel about ten bands, and if they would simply take lass material and do more with it, the sky could be their limit.
Most bands have the opposite problem - not enough creative juice and not enough passion. Most bands struggle to pump out more than a couple memorable melodies per album. Advice to Cormorant: keep some of that music in your minds pent-up. Let it flow from you and don't do it by numbers. Don't let ambition become self-destructive.
Ambition has a way of devouring the once mighty.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Saor's Aura
It seems like there are more and more one-man bands cropping up all the time, especially in the extremities of the underground. Panopticon, Borgne, Woods of Desolation, The Fall of Every Season, Saor. It's amazing how these artists are producing such impressive, well-rounded compositions.
So many atmospheric black metal bands have exhausted the themes of cold winters in the northern lands, dark forests in the night, and silent lakes at the coming of dawn. Not that there's anything at all wrong with those themes (they're very appropriate for this style of music and oftentimes very moving), but it never hurts to hear something different once in a while. This album brings something different, but something not unfamiliar. We've heard these sounds before, but they're a little less cold, and a little less dark. This album brings the wind to your hair.
Also, despite its Celtic, folky leanings, there is nothing in the sound reminiscent of war. We don't feel like we're being led into battle. This is a good thing. War metal is almost as bad as weightlifting metal. Instead, parts of this album are reminiscent of Écailles de Lune - era Alcest, which is never a bad thing. The intro to "Aura" sounds like "Sur l'océan couleur de fer" with the chanting and soft guitar melodies.
The sounds are layered together nicely. None of the instruments, be they keyboards, piano, acoustic guitars, replicated strings, whistles, feel out of place. Everything flows.
This is beautifully crafted black/folk metal. The melodies whisk you away to the hillsides of Scotland. It's sorrowful, yet triumphant. Rarely are black metal albums so bright, but this one is. And the future of this band is bright.
Northern Silence Productions has, so far, brought us three of the best albums of the year: Woods of Desolation's As The Stars, Cross Vault's Spectres of Revocable Loss (even though it's on Eyes Like Snow, Northern Silence Productions is its parent label), and now Saor's Aura.
Keep up the good work!
Labels:
2014,
black metal,
celtic,
Eyes Like Snow,
folk,
nature,
Northern Silence Productions,
Saor,
Scotland
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Sólstafir's Köld
This album came out in 2009 but I just discovered it a few months ago. I've been listening to it a lot recently. My mother tells me frequently, "don't you listen to loud music, you'll destroy your hearing." I know she's right, but some albums are just styled in such a way, and are so good, they have to be blasted. Sólstafir's Köld is one of those albums. I don't mind listening to it at a volume that makes my ears throb. It's just that good. To listen to it any other way would detract from the experience too much.
Listening to Aðalbjörn Tryggvason scream "Í dögun birtist þu" at the top of his lungs is like watching Lisbeth Salander throw the leather suit in the dumpster.
AT DAWN YOU WILL APPEAR.
Just when there's a little bit of hope, it vanishes in an instance.
This is simply one of the best albums ever, and I would say Sólstafir's best hands down. Sólstafir draws its influences from all over the place, and the result is a very avant-garde, unusual sound. I swear at times when Aðalbjörn Tryggvason screams he sounds like a raspier Billy Idol. It's the soft parts of the album, and the way the melodies are carried over from soft to hard and hard to soft, that make it so damn good, in addition to its styling and unconventional fusion of genres. See all of "Köld," especially the 4:20 - 6:45 part and the subsequent part that reverts back to metal. The music is sometimes joyous, but always haunting. "World Void of Souls" is extremely haunting, non unlike something Trent Reznor & company might write, with hummed vocal melodies and an eerie ambient riff playing throughout about a 10-minute span after an eerie sound sample concludes of a man muttering this:
I woke up at 9:30 thinking I had already missed the daylight
But it won’t be here for another two hours.
It doesn’t matter, I’ll probably sleep through it anyway.
I drift through my days like a zombie,
Looking for reflections of her in the grayness of it all.
The daylight only lasts for a couple of hours,
So I haven’t seen any colors for a couple of weeks.
It doesn’t matter, I’ve always been into bleakness.
Even my dreams are in black and white.
But maybe that is just because so are the photos of her,
The last evidence that she, happiness, really did exist.
The emotions stream in this album. This is perfect music to listen to over a frozen, desolate landscape, maybe as the sun rises. Sólsafir is from Iceland; I suppose they've always drawn influence from their unique and isolated environment. There's a craving of old, better days - better times in life that have passed and aren't coming back. This is especially the tone in "Necrologue" and “World Void of Souls," where the listener feels as if they're sitting around a campfire in the dead of night while a stranger recalls the beauty in the midst of all the colorless, black and white days that seamlessly blend together.
Iceland has one of the best music environments of any country out there. Maybe it's because of its isolation. Maybe it's because it's located just a few miles outside the Arctic Circle. I know bands - the best bands - draw from their natural environments when writing music, and usually their finished products reflect that. Sometimes it might even be accidental. Sometimes we are impacted in ways, and by things, we don't understand. And sometimes we're not even aware of it. What most Icelandic bands probably are conscious of is the fact that Iceland has a small population, and that countries with small populations, especially isolated countries with small populations, of which Iceland is a prime example, are often ideal places for cross-fertilization. Iceland has more bands per capita than any other country in the world. All these bands and musicians know one another, or at least know of one another. They are influenced by one another. This results in unusual music fusions. Icelanders also suffer from "small nation complex." "Per capita" is probably one of the most commonly used phrases in Iceland. This accompanied with its nasty history of being a colony to a larger, richer nation probably perpetuates a cultural sense of self-consciousness that also finds its way into the fabric of Icelandic music.
Wherever Sólstafir's feelings are coming from, those feelings are in their music. They echo loud and clear. And whatever their influences are, be it black metal or death metal or Sigur Rós, they go from writing radio friendly pop songs to prolonged raw, texturized, instrumental passages that are quite deep, gripping and emotionally exhausting.
Labels:
2009,
black metal,
Depression,
Iceland,
nature,
Paganism,
post-metal,
progressive metal,
Reykjavik,
Season of Mist,
Sólstafir
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