Graveland- Necronomicon (1992)

If a metal version of trivial pursuit is ever created, an excellent question would be: "what style of music was played on the first four Graveland demos?" Few, if any, would remember that the legendary black/ viking metal act started out as a shoddy industrial one man band. Yet, that is exactly what the first four Graveland demos are—shoddy industrial metal and weak ambient. The debut demo Necronomicon, is the poorest of the lot. The demo consists of two kinds of songs, ambient and industrial. The ambient pieces are really bad. It’s hard to believe that the same man would compose masterful ambient tracks such as the intro to Carpathian Wolves just three years later. Most of these ambient pieces are awkward four note melodies layered with clichéd sounds of flutes and choirs. 

The industrial tracks are a little better, though still sub-par. The riffs are plodding and redundant. The drum machine is repetitive and cheap sounding. It relies almost exclusively on high-hat and cymbal noises, which can be grating. Rob employs a deep, gurgled growl that sounds like it is emerging from the depths of the ocean. It fits the music and is kind of cool, but ultimately doesn’t compensate for the albums other weaknesses.

The whole demo is pretty poor, but “Sword and Blood” shows a tiny bit of Graveland’s potential. The song has a bouncy, folk rhythm to it that foreshadows some of the later Graveland motifs. The percussion sounds are also slightly more dynamic. Overall, Graveland fans should give this a listen or two, if for no other reason than to see where the band's sound originated. However, don’t expect Necronomicon to stay in your permanent rotation. 

Overall: 2.5/10

Burzum- Hvis Lyset Tar Oss (1994)

Often the albums that are most immanent to a genre’s development are the same albums that transcend that genre. With the possible exception of Darkthone's Transylvanian Hunger, no album has been as integral to the development of the modern black metal sound as Burzum’s Hvis Lyset Tar Oss. Entire sub-genres (i.e. ambient black metal, DSBM) have used this album as a template. At the same time, Hvis Lyset Tar Oss is recognized, referenced and praised outside of the realm of metal (by shoegaze and post rock acts, for example) to a degree few (if any) other black metal albums can claim.

It is easy to chalk up the popularity and notoriety of Hvis Lyset Tar Oss to Varg Vikernes criminal activities. Yes, many people know the name Burzum, and consequently this album, because Varg is the most shocking man in metal. Let’s face it, its risqué to listen to a four track, forty minute album composed by a murderer and church burner with an extreme right ideology. It gives you edge. Yet, I think the success of Hvis Lyset Tar Oss ultimately lies in far more noble grounds.

Thematically, Hvis Lyset Tar Oss is an incredibly dynamic album. On the one hand its theme is specific: it is the sound of the Nordic way of life at the edge of collapse. It is the tortured cries of a bitter, relentless yet powerless spirit releasing its last bits of energy as its world is transformed by foreigners; this is the soundtrack to colonization. It is the sound of the forceful conversion from one way of life into another. Ironically, in spite of the truly Norwiegian spirit of the album, this is ultimately a composition that transcends its locale insofar as it depicts a basic phenomenon of modernity—the homogenization of culture, thought and lifestyle. Norway is just one of many shady spaces on the globe that has been consumed by the monolithic light of “Western” culture and Christianity.

At the same time, the emotions of Hvis Lyset Tar Oss convey the even more basic human phenomenon of coming to grips with the end. At these moments, when what we love is dying, when what is integral to our very being is taken away, there is nothing left to do but wail and snarl in the bittersweet melodies of the tragic. No word could describe Hvis Lyset Tar Oss better than “tragedy.” The album cover captures this perfectly: a tattered man cast to the edge of the path, with neither the end nor the beginning of the road in sight. Chaos interrupts his seemingly determinate trip and all of a sudden, everything is lost.

Musically, Hvis Lyset Tar Oss is not too dissimilar from prior Burzum recordings. Once again, Varg creates a primal spirit through thin, biting guitar, unbridled wails and primitive percussion, all of which is doused in exquisite layers of synth. The production is raw, but all the instruments are audible and well balanced. The major change lies in the composition. The songs are longer, ranging from 8-14 minutes and use repetition to create a beautifully ambiguous feeling that lies somewhere between stasis and development. Patterns repeat, changing ever so slightly, creating a sonic paradox of simultaneous movement and stillness. This union of movement and stillness has become Varg’s signature and it here that he perfects the technique.

The album opens with what is one of the greatest metal tracks of all time: “Det Som En Gang Var.” From the opening moment the listener is engulfed in a gorgeous, mournful sea of harmonies. Eerie keys harmonize with distorted guitars in a song of loss. The atmosphere is consuming. This is music so strong that you not only hear it, but also smell and feel it. It takes you deep into the Nordic forest. The mourning hums give way to an attacking war march as sharp riffs and wild, primitive percussion interweave with weeping synths. Fury and sorrow walk hand in hand. Varg's howling screams merge the two into one cathartic sound. The fiery percussion drives home the urgency of the situation while the keys hint at inevitable resignation. As the song ebbs and flows between these two dimensions the sense of loss is palpable. Yet, the spirit remains resilient, overcoming every wave of desolation with determined vitriol.

In “Hvis Lyset Tar Oss” urgency and retaliation take over. Relentless blast beats create a visceral sensation like the pounding heartbeat of a sprinter. The keys swell like an overpowering rush of adrenaline shooting through one’s body. This song is physical; you can almost feel the sweat on your brow and the mist hugging to your skin as you run through the forest. The riffs scatter about in a frenzied manner and the tempo never lets up.

If “Hvis Lyset Tar Oss” is the chase, then “Inn I Slottet Fra Droemmen” is the attack. The drums hammer away with malice and the riffs and vocals slash the soundscape like a sharpened sword; a bona fide black metal blitzkrieg. However, at the midway point, “Inn I Slottet Fra Droemmen” morphs from raw vengeance into a lamenting dirge, shifting into a reflective middle passage and then bursting out into gorgeous waves of weeping synths and a wailing guitar solo. The hope for victory fades and the tragic reality of defeat takes hold.

The album closes with Varg's best ambient piece "Tomhet" (meaning “emptiness”). The first half loops a series of meditative tunes that are as ambiguous as the title. They could create a powerful sensation of cleansing or they can be the fateful sound of resignation. While “Tomhet” does have a sense of alien detachment to it, it also ends in a series of almost upbeat flute tones that hint at a new beginning.

The ending of “Tomhet” encapsulates one of the reasons Hvis Lyset Tar Oss maintains such staying power. It's an open and emotionally complex album that can affect you in many different ways. This is an album to live with. Listen to it at dawn and at dusk, in winter and summer, at 20, 30 and 40—it will always give you something more.

Hvis Lyset Tar Oss is one of the quintessential albums of black metal. It captures all the aspects that make the genre so unique—the raw and uninhibited spirit, the peculiar fusion of power and powerlessness and the consuming atmosphere. Yet, in defining the genre Hvis Lyset Tar Oss is already beyond it. In spirit, it is closer to masterpieces from other genres, such as Godspeed You! Black Emperor's F#A# Infinity and Dead Can Dance’s Spleen and Ideal—two albums that also capture the alienation and loss of modern society in a truly profound way—than it is to its countless apes (i.e. Wigrid or post-Herbstleyd Nargaroth). In this respect, Hvis Lyset Tar Oss is not only one of the greatest black metal albums, but also one of the all time great underground recordings. Essential listening for one and all.

Overall: 10/10

Burzum - Aske

Aske (which is Nordic for "ashes") probably has the most iconic album cover in all of black metal. Fantoft Stave Church torched down to its bare frame. The cover is a declaration of war on Christianity; a propaganda tool for the recruitment of new comrades in the war against the foreign faith. However, the album doesn’t live up to the cover. Musically Aske is the weakest recording (spare the demos) in the entire Burzum cannon. It is unclear what Varg was trying to achieve with this EP, but on the whole it would have to be deemed unsuccessful. 

For whatever reason—probably either due to Varg’s arrest or his financial disputes with Euronymous—Aske was released prior to “Det Som Engang Var,” in spite of the fact that it was recorded after. Musically, the EP does not sway too far away from the sound of the first two full lengths. Varg brought in Samoth (Emperor, Zyklon-B) to play bass, making Aske the only Burzum recording with a guest musician. The effect is negligible. While the bass is slightly more audible than on the prior two albums, Samoth is not required to do anything out of the ordinary. It’s unclear why Varg recruited Samoth for this EP.

Aske consists of three tracks; two originals and one rerecording. “Stemmen Fra Taarnet” is a fast paced, bouncy attacking piece in the vein of “Feeble Screams from the Forest Unknown.” It shifts back and forth between firing verses and dizzying choruses all bathed in Varg’s scathing howls. However, the track randomly cuts off at the six minute mark. What happened here is anyone’s guess. Perhaps the producer screwed up on the final cut. Maybe the physical recording got damaged. Maybe Varg couldn’t afford more recording time. Whatever the case may be, “Stemmen…” is like reading a 2/3 of a novel only to realize that the final few chapters fell out of the book; a very frustrating experience.

“Dominus Sathanas” is the highlight of the album; a slow, doomy piece with symphonic layering. Melodious lead guitars swing back and forth, backed up by a thicket of fuzz. Eerie chants sneak into the backdrop and a single vile scream tears through the entire landscape. This is the sort of sound I expect Dauði Baldrs album would have had if it had been recorded properly. 

The closer is a rerecording of “A Lost Forgotten Sad Spirit,” which originally appeared on the debut. This rerecording is inferior. The dynamic of the song was presented brilliantly on the debut. The composition shifts between faster, feverish passages and slower, haunting passages. The original version is played at a faster pace, which allows the quicker sections to slash the listener like a Nordic midwinter breeze. Consequently, the slower stretches mark a true contrast and the melancholia is palpable. On the rerecording, everything is slowed down. This means the difference between the passages is not sufficiently accentuated. Thus, the rerecording lacks some of the dynamism of the original. 

Ultimately, Aske will draw you in with its controversial cover, its historic mystique and perhaps its obscurity. (If you ever see it at a record store pick it up because it is damn rare and you will probably never see it again). However, as a musical document it basically a footnote in the otherwise stellar Burzum catalogue. 

Overall: 6/10

Negative Plane- Stained Glass Revelations (2011)

Have you ever wondered what it would sound like if Dick Dale played black metal? Me neither… that is, at least until I heard Negative Plane’s sophomore release “Stained Glass Revelations”.  Certainly, black metal has been yoked with a lot of different styles: prog, crust punk, jazz, shoegaze and folk from just about every nook of Europe. For better or worse, someone always seems to find black metal a new bride. Still, I can honestly say I never would have envisioned an album like “Stained Glass Revleations.” Negative Plane plays an avant garde brand of black metal that is accentuated through a wealth of surfer rock and psychedelic rock sensibilities.

Perhaps that sounds like a recipe for kitsch album, but Negative Plane pull it off in a tasteful way. It’s not as if they’re playing witty little two minute black n’ roll ditties; this is a serious album full of intricate musicianship and powerful aesthetic. The guitar playing is really elaborate. The album is overloaded with quick, slippery leads that race up and down the fret board, recalling 60’s surfer rock sounds. While the lead guitar fires off colorful notes like a disco ball, the rest of the band provide an entrapping backdrop.  The bass has a really cool hollow sound, as if it were some homemade wooden instrument. The eerie and quirky organs add more psyched out sensibilities, sounding inspired by Ray Manzarek of the Doors. 

“So, where’s the black metal?” you might asking.  Well, the rock elements certainly do not stop “Stained Glass Revelations” from having a very occult feeling to it. The production is vast echoic, making the record sound as if it were recorded in some old cobblestone church. NV’s husky shouts sound like some alchemist reading an ancient spell. The artwork, lyrics and horror house interludes all add to the album’s ghostly spirit. Aesthetics is where the album really succeeds. Everything comes together to make the listener feel like they’re chasing some troublesome apparition through an abandoned chapel. 

Unfortunately, the album depends on style to take it the distance. While the musicianship is stellar and the style is unique, the songs themselves are not especially notable pieces of songwriting and on the whole, the album feels fairly redundant.  After the first three tracks, the band’s whole bag of tricks has been exhausted. From there on out, the album is basically about rearranging those elements. Yet, the songwriting fails to engage. These are long tracks, ranging from seven to twelve minutes, but they feel bloated. Negative Plane fails to pull the listener to the edge of their seat, waiting for an especially enticing moment or memorable track. The songs themselves aren’t that distinct. While the clean parts, such as the clean guitar intros and magical organ passages stand out, the actual metal passages all sound pretty similar.

Without much in the way of songwriting, “Stained Glass Revelations” runs out of gas before the finish line. Though the band has a cool sound, their music comes up short on substance and range and consequently becomes innocuous by the last few tracks. Still, Negative Plane deserves praise for an imaginative take on black metal and impressive musicianship.  Definitely worth a listen for those who are interested in new and different sounds in the realm of black metal and especially for those black metal fans who are also fond of 60’s rock.

Overall: 7/10

Burzum- Det Som Engang Var (1993)

A few months after recording the impressive but somewhat erratic but nonetheless impressive debut album “Burzum,” a more focused Varg Vikernes returned to the studios to record “Det Som Engang Var.” Taking the positives of the debut and building upon them, Burzum’s sophomore release is an absolute masterwork of black metal. 

What is interesting is that the songs for “Burzum,” “Det Som Engang Var” and “Aske” were mostly written within a year—and not in the order that they were released. So some of the material on “Det Som…” is actually older than the material on the debut. However, it does appear as if experience in the studio did Varg some good, as “Det Som…” displays much more craft in arrangement and layering than its predecessor.

The production remains raw, the riffs remain razor sharp and Varg’s screams are still the sound of unbridled madness. However, plenty of new details have been added giving “Det Som…” a much more textured sound. To begin, the production is a little deeper, meaning there is even more room for the riffs to buzz and resonate within the recording. Vocally, Varg supplements his powerful screeches with soft, gentile chants eerie spoken word passages. For a love of melody this album is a treat, as Varg churns out one imperious melody after another. 

Compositionally, “Det Som Engang Var” constantly offers the listener something new while maintaining a telos. The album starts from the darkest depths, with haunting and subdued ambient piece followed by the vicious “Key to the Gate,” which bursts onto the stage with venomous hatred.  After several waves of terrifying riffs and annihilating vocals, the song sinks down into a slow, doomy middle section. Varg builds the tension with brilliant craft, setting the scene for stunning moment when the song takes a complete 180 and bursts out an absolutely glorious guitar solo and majestic riff. 

The next 20 minutes are overloaded with magisterial sounds that summon images of pristine Nordic landscapes. On “En Ring Til Aa Herske” Varg takes his time, slowly developing a trance-inducing tunes toward its ecstatic peak. “Lost Wisdom” is the catchiest song, with a rock-like rhythm and folk leads. The album winds down with the dark, somber and eerie “Snu Mikrokosmos Tegn,” whose longer, interweaving structure recalls “My Journey to the Stars,” but is even more ominous. As if dragged down to the depths from where it came, “Det Som Engang Var” ends as disturbingly as it starts.

“Det Som Engang Var” also contains some of Varg’s first ambient pieces. The closer “Svarte Troner” is extremely disturbing, with soft, off-putting moans hiding behind spooky melodies and waves of white noise. “Han Som Reiste” consists of an excellent medieval melody—the kind of tune Summoning has made a living off of.

“Det Som Engang Var” is the closest one can get to the “other planes” of existence Varg speaks of in “Lost Wisdom.” It’s as if the listener is pulled out of his or her modern life and brought to a mystical, arcane world. Yet, like all dreams, the journey has to end and the listener is drawn back into the bleak reality of modern civilization once again. “No bear, no wolf, no troll. Breathless.” The beautiful dream of “Det Som Engang Var” comes to an end and only an ideal remains—an ideal totally disconnected from the modern world. What once was is lost.

Overall: 10/10

Burzum- Burzum (1992)

1992 is the year that the second wave of black metal began to take shape. While Quorthon had already laid the foundation with the first three Bathory albums and Mayhem had been revving up for a while, it was the trio of Darkthrone’s “A Blaze in the Northern Sky,” Immortal’s “Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism” and Burzum’s self-titled debut that really kick started golden age of black metal. These albums are dark, raw, evil and chilling. Burzum’s debut is no doubt the most extreme of these albums.

Structurally and conceptually ambitious, “Burzum” already gives a peak into the complex artistic vision of Varg Vikernes. At the same time, this is an album that is as raw as they come. Varg takes Bathory’s buzzing guitar sound and sharpens it to an absolutely piercing pitch. Keen as these riffs are, they still fill a lot of space through resonation and humming feedback. The minimalist production does not stop these riffs from sounding big and full. This creates the perfect landscape for Varg’s maddening screams. Varg’s vocals on the first three albums are simply without peer. He sounds like a crow that just returned to its nest to find its eggs missing and is pissed the fuck off.

Conceptually, the album swings high, but it doesn’t always hit the mark. The album is split into two sides: “Side War” and “Side Winter.” Beyond being a fairly asymmetrical pairing, the two sides do not really fit the bill. For example, the dreamy ambient piece “Channeling the Power of Souls into a New God” appears on “Side War” while the thrashy headbanger “War” appears on “Side Winter”. More problematic, the album doesn’t have the greatest flow. Unlike some of the masterfully arranged albums that Varg would produce in the upcoming years, the debut is somewhat of a grab bag. There are three longer, emotionally complex tracks and there are three shorter, visceral tracks. While these differing types of tracks could conceivably be interwoven, Varg doesn’t actually manage to achieve that here. 

Varg really shows his brilliance as a songwriter on the two closing epics, “A Lost Forgotten Sad Spirit” and “My Journey to the Stars”. These two songs do feel like side winter with sweeping melodies buzzing around like gusts of ice cold wind. The tracks interweave between fast, pulsating rhythms and slow, tribal beats, constantly bringing new sounds into their web. Actually, the headbangers are damn good too. “War” is a great tribute to the Bathory song of the same name and “Spell of Destruction” is absolutely riveting. Varg’s devastated, retaliatory wails on the later track are some of the most beautiful and horrifying vocals in the history of black metal.

Still, when it’s all said and done “Burzum” mostly feels like a collection of innovative songs from an excited and inspired young artist, but it doesn’t quite feel like an album. The structure is too erratic and the songs sometimes clash. While this doesn’t make the songs themselves any less excellent, it does put Burzum’s debut a notch or two below its sequels.   

Overall: 8.5/10

Liturgy- Aesthetica (2011)

It is almost impossible disentangle Liturgy’s sophomore release, “Aesthetica” from vocalist/guitarist Hunter Hunt Hendrix’s “Transcendental Black Metal Manifesto.” In the manifesto, Hendrix suggests that Liturgy and their brand of “transcendental black metal” are the necessary teleological consequence of black metal. Since black metal is the teleological endpoint of all prior metal, it follows that Liturgy are some sort of dialectical culmination of everything in the history of metal up to today.

To be straight forward, the manifesto is fucking annoying. Hendrix throws around “it words” from continental philosophy and music theory, and then blends them with some goofy metaphors about the atrophied “hyperborean” realm (read: Norway) and the “transcendental apocalyptic” realm (read: America)—all of which is a longwinded way of Hendrix explaining that he thinks his band is awesome. Ultimately the manifesto comes off as a desperate attempt to place Liturgy as the “next great thing” in the history of black metal, as he presents their music as an "overcoming" of Darkthrone’s “Transylvanian Hunger”.

The sad part is that the music itself is actually quite praiseworthy—no manifesto was necessary. While the album sometimes becomes swamped in Liturgy’s uncontrolled pretentiousness, most of the album is imaginative fusion of new sounds and ideas into the black metal framework. At its core, “Aesthetica” is a black metal album; thin tremolo chords, pulsating percussion and standard high pitched screeches.   However, Liturgy does a number of things differently. First, the riffs are fluttery and melodic, swirling around the listener like the string section of an orchestra. This is highly Romantic music; at its best, it recalls the powerful melodies of Brucker and Mahler symphonies.

The band also has a strong djent influence. There are long stretches of mechanistic gyrations, but Liturgy bring life to the machine, building up to intense climaxes and that spill over, like a sprinter crossing the finish line. Liturgy’s ability to shift between these romantic and mechanic passages with such effortlessness is one of the highlights of “Aesthetica.” The band plays with such phenomenal synchronicity that they are able to split off into differing tempos and melodies and come back together without ever missing a beat.

Liturgy is also not afraid to integrate brighter, more celebratory melodies into the black metal sound. Certainly, they are not the first to do it (though they probably [i]think[/i] they are) but they are in the minority. The results are mixed. While the grandstanding opener “High Gold” is awe inspiring, “Sun of Light” sounds like an anime soundtrack. For the most part, Liturgy maintains their emotional integrity throughout—traversing the tragic “True Will”, the monumental “Veins of Gold” and the cathartic “Harmonia”.

The members of Liturgy have often been accused of not being true metal heads. I find that charge ironic; the metal on “Aesthetica” is mostly of a high quality, while all the non-metal parts are absolutely terrible. The a capella passages are literally the worst I have ever heard in my life. I kid not, these are the type of nasal vocals that incite mass violence. Hunter Hunt Hendrix strained moans like a castrated sheep being sodomized. The keyboard passages are also terrible.  The synth piece “Helix Skull” sounds like shit. Seriously, kids fucking around on a piano do a better job than this. Unfortunately these crap keyboard and a capella passages are often interspersed at the beginnings of otherwise stellar tracks, which means it’s not so easy to just skip them. These passages highlight that Liturgy are not quite “there” yet. They’re still too caught up in doing “transcendental black metal” to transcend their own inabilities, like lack of singing ability.

In the end “Aesthetica” is an impressive though sometimes frustrating album. While there are plenty of standout moments, it also has its share of absolutely terrible moments. At its core, this band has an original and exciting sound. While they’ve taken the liberty of putting themselves in conversation with Darkthrone, I would say their sound is closer to the neo-classical sounds of Emperor's swansong "Prometheus". Liturgy’s great innovation is removing the synths and creating the symphonic sound through nothing but bass, drums and guitar. Still, if this band is ever going to reach their full potential, they need to get their nauseatingly large egos under check.

Overall: 7.5/ 10