Cirkeln: The Primitive Covenant
Out 3rd November on True Cult Records
I’d wager a majority would not be sorry to see turn of the century metal consigned to the dustbin of history, especially that clutch of Darkthrone albums bordering the year 2000, when Fenriz was at his lowest ebb mentally. The kindest thing one could therefore say about Cirkeln’s latest effort is that the allusions to this drab period mark them out from the crowd pining for the early 1990s. At least the obnoxious punk elements – punk that reeeeally wants you to know that it’s punk – are supplemented with a rich melodic package borrowed from early black metal, along with some heavy metal bombast. But a scattering of decent hooks and a riff or two cannot save this conveyor belt of filler from utter tedium. The problem is not one of will, for Cirkeln are clearly aspiring to work within an epic scope, replete with eccentricity and unashamedly geeky bombast. But for lengthy periods, dry rockist bounce, repetition, black ‘n’ roll fodder, and straight up genericism hampers any character that would otherwise have risen to the surface. What it gets right makes it at least more interesting than Darkthrone circa ‘Hate Them’, a feat hardly indicative of great quality mind. Leave this one for the black metal crowd that seems to think Mork are somehow worthy of the attention they receive within the scene.
The Color of Rain: Oceans Above
Out 7th November on Void Wanderer Productions
Stylistic incontinence meets gauche emotivism on the debut album from this “progressive” black metal outfit. This is a child picking up random toys only to quickly grow bored and move onto the next plaything. Fun for the child, and important for the development of their dexterity – the musicianship here is after all highly competent – but holding no value for any outside observer. One can’t help but lament that things have come to this. Fragments of black metal hacked to pieces and thrown in the mixer with deathcore, emo, post rock, labouring under the assumption that placing these elements alongside one another is enough to make us think this deserves some kind of intellectual response. There is no other logic, motivation, or overarching vision to justify this randomiser of adolescent metal tantrums. If you like skipping through your playlists on shuffle for forty minutes this album will provide a reasonable simulation of this, but for anyone maintaining a glimmer of belief that metal is capable of expressing something coherently, best steer well clear of this one.
The Mosaic Window: Plight of Acceptance
Out 10th November on Willowtip Records
A plucky attitude overcomes sterility on this debut album from The Mosaic Window. Although broadly located in the sweeping, hyper fast melodic black metal milieu, the experience is domesticated by generic power chord link riffs knocking the wind out of any momentum built. That, alongside some melodic hooks that sit just on the wrong side of banal (even when measured against the pop version of this style pioneered by Dissection) keeps this release from being worthy of anything more than a nod of recognition. But, credit where it’s due, there are some engaging ideas stretched across this LP, some are even sustained across several passages, evolving into proto themes of sorts. But The Mosaic Window is not a sophisticated enough composer to maintain their identity and longevity without leaning on off-the-shelf writing techniques – classic metal melodic refrains, light dissonance, melodeath bridges – to stretch these tracks out for long enough to make them look like something more sophisticated than they are. Ironically, the lead guitar work is both the worst offender in this regard and the album’s saving grace. Just when an ill chosen thrash riff rips across a track with naff aplomb, a well deployed guitar solo will salvage the wreckage, bringing the listener right back into the moment. With greater focus on what purpose each individual element is actually serving, this tentative riff menu could be elevated into an entity not without some artistic value.
Mauvet Mauve: Mauvet Mauve
Out 17th November on Helter Skelter Productions / Regain Records
The crowd inhabiting the intersection of dungeon synth, black metal, and the general nerdery of video gaming and RPGs has been generating some bizarre feedback loops of nostalgia content lately. At this point, I’m not sure that openly embracing 8-bit video game music, as opposed to just emulating this style is something to be celebrated or taken out the back and immediately shot. The fruits of this irony cycle are not entirely rotten, with some truly post-post-modern avant-gardisms smuggled under the radar in recent years. But Mauvet Mauve is sadly not among them. Essentially a black metal album re-written in 8-bit, the finished product is experimental music par excellence in that it asks a “what if”, realises this counter factual, records and releases it as sincerely as any artist would. There is one small problem however. 8-bit black metal has been a thing for at least twenty years, granting us new insight into the mechanics of this reductive style behind the trebly guitar tones. This album must then rest on its merits alone, which are frankly few and far between. Although simplicity is the entire point, there is frankly nothing to latch onto here beyond basic repetitions and scant development. Mauvet Mauve essentially gave itself two options, compose some compelling, minimalist dark ambient with an overtly retroist aesthetic, or present a joke/experiment/irony driven cascade of twee nostalgia. And being unable to marry both these pursuits into one solid endeavour, they opted for the latter, only to fail at the prerequisite of novelty, thus crossing out the final reason one might be compelled to spend time with this album.
Herzog: Furnace
Out 24th November on Amor Fati
Rich and doom laden black metal fulfils the requirement for unique aesthetic character alongside simple but distinct melodic threads. This debut unleashes an arcane psychological disposition replete with grim purpose. Dark, drab, glum, but oddly hopeful in its flowing, forward momentum despite the expression through obscurantist guitar textures, gristly minor key refrains, and despondent guttural vocals notable more for their atmospheric qualities as opposed to anything remotely lyrical. Although the drums stick tightly to an austere package of blast-beats, they offer welcome accents and fills when it counts, emphasising the guitar phrases with tight peaks and troughs in pacing. A very subtle layer of synths appears sporadically to bolster the latent atmospheric qualities of the guitars, broadening the expressive range without altering the tightly managed aesthetic picture. Herzog display an astute awareness of rigidity and restraint as compositional virtues within this style of black metal. Every element is recruited in service of the wider artistic vision, every element has its role to play without overstepping its remit and becoming an unwelcome distraction. A rich, nuanced, satisfying broth of the typical made atypical.
One Master: The Names of Power
Out 24th November on Eternal Death
One Master take the directionless Americana rage of Krieg and impregnate it with melodic possibility. This is still highly repetitive, and no doubt far too drawn out given the amount of actual content on offer, but there is something to be said for a single minded rumination if delivered with conviction. We’re playing on very familiar territory here, but One Master are almost obnoxious in their refusal to allow flexibility or dynamics into this otherwise watertight thematic display. They are far from the first to combine the raw, abrasive, industrialist anger of USBM with the refined melodicism of the Nordic style. But rarely do we see this marriage paraded with such self-assurance. One could forget how little is on offer here from a compositional point of view owing to how strictly managed the borders of this music are, and how confidently One Master march on, laden only with that which is strictly necessary to bring this vision into fruition. A cold, calculated, efficacious flow of rage fuelled intent given clarity and form under the strict rigours of monomaniacalism.
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