Beats and yelling: Profanatica and aging with dignity

Crux Simplex
Out 22^nd September on Season of Mist

If ever a course correction were required for the good ship Profanatica it would be now. The project helmed by Paul Ledney is perhaps the most visible from a crop of first wave USBM artists – along with VON, Demoncy, Black Funeral, and Grand Belial’s Key – who constructed a modest rebuttal to the Scandinavian scene, which they viewed as an aberration from everything black metal stood for. But mired by an early break up and a long hiatus, the de facto debut ‘Dethrone the Son of God’ was to be released under Ledney’s solo project Havohej. By the time Profanatica re-entered the scene in the 2000s the combination of visceral aggression, outrageously vulgar imagery, and latent primitivism left a now more refined metal community unsure of what to do with this deranged remnant of a barbaric past.

But Profanatica’s run of three albums from 2007 to 2010 proved not only prescient as far as trends in extreme metal were concerned, but remarkably creative for such explicitly reductionist music. ‘Profanatitas de Domonatia’ pre-empted an era defined by metal desperately seeking wisdom and direction from lost heydays. But despite the album coming from minds very much of this old school crop, it sounds refreshingly contemporary even to this day. An oddly haunting combination of simple, flowing melodies alongside rampant primitivism lent their theological preoccupations a fanaticism that frankly belongs to the Middle Ages. One can feel the dread of an Old Testament wrath lurking beneath the throbbing, murky aesthetic.

‘Disgusting Blasphemies Against God’ retained a similar homogenous gloom, but amped up the raw power of the performance, creating an overwhelming experience that – much as I hate to use the word – can only be described as heavy. 2013’s ‘Thy Kingdom Cum’ dispensed with the format of riffs defined by tremolo picked melodies made up of single, sustained notes forming blocks of lyrical expression, instead engaging in an intricate exercise of chromatic riff tessellation. It would prove to be both Profanatica’s most intellectual and visceral work. Nihilistic to the point of absurdism, utterly destitute in its joyful illogicalism, yet pivoting on a ceaseless churn of activity, as close as metal can come to Dadaism without totally collapsing.

A trio of strong and profoundly distinct albums – particularly in an environment that rewards near claustrophobic self-limitation – was a feat in itself. But by 2016 the steam had officially run out, with ‘The Curling Flame of Blasphemy’ appearing tired and entrenched in recycled formulas. The duo of founding members Paul Ledney and John Gelso who had steered the ship thus far split, leaving Ledney to headhunt new clientele. But 2019’s ‘Rotting Incarnation of God’ only solidified the lurking dread that Profanatica were running out of creative road. Eccentricity had been watered down to cater to mainstream ears who tend to be less accepting of idiosyncrasy, the twee meme-able cover art, the riffcraft and sonic offering expanded at the expense of uniqueness. The wonderfully restrictive world allowing for all manner of bizarrist iterations of hostility was neutered into a soundscaping project that ultimately domesticated a beast previously thought to be untameable.

But – as clearly demonstrated through the barbaric avant-gardisms of Havohej – Paul Ledney is as enigmatic as he is unpredictable, despite his self-image as a savage traditionalist. According to everything we know about artistic decline, musicians his age – following two albums released on autopilot and a lukewarm reception – should not be returning with material of the calibre found on ‘Crux Simplex’.

It’s important to note that although this will always be Ledney’s band, defined by his blue-collar-warrior approach behind the kit and gargling vocals, Profanatica’s lineup has a history of operating under a revolving door policy. The strongest material was no doubt released by the Ledney/Gelso stewardship, with the shortcomings of ‘Rotting Incarnation of God’ in part being a function of trusting untested clientele to guard the legacy of an artist carrying considerable baggage as far as fan expectations are concerned.  

Although guitarist Adam Besserer returns for ‘Crux Simplex’, here he adopts a similar approach to Daniel Mongrain in Voivod. He is able to inhabit the world of another artist whilst subtly shifting emphasis, allowing space for personal creativity whilst comfortably existing in the long shadow of someone else’s legacy.

The simple unfolding melodic material via tremolo picked riffs is back, underpinned by Ledney’s assault of slick, primitivist percussion, as is the punctuation of droning link passages that mark Profanatica out as a uniquely threatening entity. Importantly, for an artist that – despite the rampant theatrics – is identified by a compositional austerity, the production has moved away from the warm organicism that crept into the two preceding releases. Again, this organism was a hint that someone, somewhere, wanted this outfit to align more closely with the expectations of a contemporary audience who demand warmer, “old school” mixes. ‘Crux Simplex’ eschews such pandering, returning the format to a mechanical violence aligned to the halcyon days of ‘Thy Kingdom Cum’.

This allows for a precision of execution that speaks of premeditation, consciously seeking to enact the most damage via waves of preplanned sonic violence. This, combined with the elegant simplicity of construction, has always marked Profanatica out even as a myriad of self-identifying death/black metal outfits have attempted to imitate the form, but fail at the point of fashioning a unique angle worth exploring and by insisting on warm fuzzy mixes that betray a lack of conviction.

Maintaining a degree of intensity within such a restrictive space when you’re into your fourth decade of recorded output is no mean feat, and testament to the fact that Ledney remains an individual not to be underestimated amongst the crop of still active old guard black metallers. Whilst the gains made here could be overstated, the fact that a new lineup have achieved the difficult task of staking a claim on the territory whilst living in the shadow of others is not to be scoffed at. ‘Crux Simplex’ is a step toward reparations. Profanatica, despite their weaker material, were only ever guilty of acting on autopilot, having never sunk to the depths of many of their contemporaries, and having never let go of the wanton nihilism that made them so unique in the first place. This album simply reminds us of their virtues and makes us forget their flaws.