(Andy Synn finds himself haunted by the new album from France’s Blóð)
Let me start by saying that if I hadn’t already decided who I was going to feature for this month’s edition of The Synn Report (which will likely be published at the start of next week) then I very much would have liked to have done a deep-dive into the discography of doomy, devilishly blackened Sludge/Post-Metal duo Blóð.
But since I’m not going to have time/space to fully delve into the depths of their back catalogue here (though you should definitely do so when you get chance) we’ll just have to be satisfied with heaping praise on their recently-released third album, Mara.
The elevator pitch for Blóð – aka Anna Lynn (vocals/bass) and Ulrich Wegrich (guitars/programming) – could simply be summed up as “what if we combined Amenra and Regarde Les Hommes Tomber?”
But while that description may be more than a little bit enticing on its own (and not entirely surprising when you consider that Ulrich was in fact the vocalist on the latter band’s self-titled debut) the duo’s execution over the course of these ten tracks ultimately raises the album above and beyond being simply the sum of its parts.
Take the way the creepy introduction to “Gehenna” sets the bleak, brooding tone of the track before transitioning into a hypnotic, doom-laden dirge of grim, grinding guitars and haunting vocals, or the way the ebb and flow between seething distortion and chilling ambience during “Malignant” provides the perfect opportunity for Anna Lynn to switch back and forth between a captivating croon and a spiteful snarl as the song goes on.
It’s this combination of doomy density – with both the monstrous “Martyr” (with Anna Lynn putting in yet another impressively intense and visceral performance behind the mic) and the arguably even heavier title-track (which builds towards a truly crushing crescendo over the course of four feverish minutes of slow-burning dread) reinforcing and reaffirming the sheer intensity of the duo’s sound – and moody atmosphere (see the eerie ambient intro of “The White Death”, for example, or the mesmerisingly minimalist mid-section of “Queen ov Hades”) which gives Mara so much of its presence and power.
And when you add to this the juxtaposition of the harsh, abrasive guitars with the vivid, evocative vocals – the Celeste-esque blackened sludgery of “Chthonia” in particular is a masterclass in how to combine and contrast these two elements, with Anna Lynn effortlessly switching from sinister siren to howling banshee as the song requires – you can appreciate the band’s sense of songcraft and inherent, instinctive grasp of dynamic even more, as every teasing flash of melody or subtle atmospheric embellishment only serves to make the rest of the record feel even harsher and heavier in comparison.
It all culminates in the suffocating slow-burn of “Mother ov All”, thirteen minutes of desolate distortion and enigmatic ambient noise whose wordless, ritualistic rhythms conclude things not with a bombastic bang but with an unsettling whisper much befitting an album clearly intended to disturb some listeners just as much as it delights others.
So which one will you be?