THE SYNN REPORT (PART 177): ALKYMIST

Recommended for fans of: Celtic Frost, Triptykon, Omination

For my penultimate Synn Report of the year I’ve chosen a band who recently put out one of the best albums of the year (sorry, that probably should have come with a “spoiler warning” for my end of year list-stravaganza).

But to fully understand the inner workings of Danish deviants Alkymist – whose music has been described both as “Progressive Sludge” and “Post-Doom” (with the truth lying somewhere in between) – we have to go back to their self-titled 2018 album and become familiar with how they’ve grown and evolved in the years since then.

Are you with me?

Good… then let’s begin.

2018 – ALKYMIST

Right from the very beginning it was – and is – clear that Alkymist bring the heavy, with the massive guitars and weighty bass-lines of opener “Ghost” immediately bringing to mind the mightiest moments of early Triptykon and/or Monotheist-era Celtic Frost (which, let’s be frank, are practically two sides of the same coin).

There’s also, however, a touch of Crowbar‘s gnarly, spaced-out groove and Sunnata‘s sinisterly psychedelic atmospherics to the track as well, both of which play an even more prominent role in stunning second track “Djinn”, whose anxiety-inducing, pseudo-melodic moments serve to provide a weirdly compelling contrast to the song’s crunchy, crawling riffs and brooding, booming bass presence, while the track’s unexpectedly avant-garde mid-section (moments of eerie minimalism married to passages of frantic, freaked-out noise) helps keep the listener on their toes even as the song slowly builds back towards a towering crescendo.

“Myling” – which leans a little more towards the Yob-ish side of things – then takes you on another auditory acid-trip, the vocals shifting from a sombre, semi-clean delivery to a titanic, Tom G. Warrior-esque howl, beneath which the band explore some of the most mesmerisingly melodic sounds on the entire album (without sacrificing any of their heaving, sludge-soaked metallic heft) in a manner which makes this one a clear stand-out.

The ambient soundscapes of “Black Egypt II” then provide a short, but necessary, break in the action before the slow-motion sonic apocalypse of “Paradise” (a song whose gargantuan guitars and simmering, psychotropic grooves wouldn’t sound out of place on the Mandy soundtrack – especially when the band let the soaring leads ring out or indulge their proggily acoustic impulses), after which extravagant eleven minute (well, almost) closer “Serpent” takes full advantage of its extended run-time to really build both tension and mood, pushing the classic “quiet/loud” dynamic to its most organic extreme so that the quietest moments are even more immersive… and the loudest parts even more intense.

2020 – SANCTUARY

Picking up pretty much exactly where its predecessor left off – only now benefitting from an even heavier, sharper production which allows the keen-edged leads to cut through even more while imbuing the rugged, rumbling riffs with even more power – album #2 quickly doubles-down on those Triptykon comparisons by going even bigger and more bombastic, yet also finds the band carving out a little more space for their own identity (especially vocally, as while Peter Bjørneg’s harsh vocals still possess a caustic, Celtic Frost-ish quality,  his unusual semi-clean stylings are far more unorthodox and distinctive), much of which can be attributed to the band’s more esoteric melodic choices which add a pleasingly strange edge to their suffocating sound.

The lurching, fuzz-infused riffs and buzzing, bubbling bass lines of “The Dead” then take you on a suitably ominous (and Omination-esque) bad trip, heavy on both doomy vibes – especially when the morbidly infectious melodic leads come slicing their way through the murk – and gut-wrenching grooves, where even the most atmospheric passages possess a cloying, claustrophobic feel, after which the moody, stripped-back interlude of “S.O.Y.” breathes a little more space into the album before the guitar-driven grind of “Draugr” (half choppy, chattering riffs, half chiming, chiaroscuro chords) raises the intensity levels once again.

The haunted ambience of “Gust of War” then sets the stage for the sulphurous slow-burn of “Desolated Sky”, whose frequent volcanic eruptions of gargantuan guitars – interspersed by some fittingly desolate and drawn-out moments of gloaming calm and gloomy melody – mark the track out as an obvious highlight… although the subsequent strains of “Astral Haze” (just under nine-and-a-half minutes of shimmering, psycho-active ambience and colossal, crushing chords, interwoven with just a dash of intricately proggy guitar work) end up making the last twenty minutes or so (which includes the sinister cinematic outro of “Warkeeper”) feel like a series of staggeringly heavy high-points which just keep on building to a suitably grim and grandiose conclusion.

2024 – UNNDERR

As good as both the band’s previous two albums were (and they were), however, UnnDerr is where it really feels like the band – to use a hoary old cliché – finally found themselves.

Still possessing one of the most weightiest, most wicked guitar tones you’re likely to have heard all year, the band haven’t so much abandoned their proggier indulgences as they have integrated them even more seamlessly into the overall sound, as you can immediately tell during opener “The Scent” where their use of moody minimalism and brooding negative space contrasts even more effectively with their love of massive, morbidly heavy riffs and powerful, primal rhythms.

“Digging a Grave” then pushes the proggy elements even further into the background – though a close listen will discern an undulating undercurrent of simmering strangeness beneath all the hefty, hook-laden and groove-driven guitars – to focus purely on giving your neck one heck of a workout, only for the titanic, ten-minute title-track to invert the paradigm and put an even bigger (“bigger” being the operative word when it comes to this album) emphasis on atmosphere and ambience and allowing the inherent antagonism between the quiet/loud, light/shade sides of the group’s increasingly expansive, Post-Doom dynamic to enhance the song’s impact.

“Light of a Lost Star” then continues to further refine the band’s sound – stripping away what little fat still remains to let the guitars flex their metallic muscles a little more, yet also giving the darker, doomier side of their identity (which manifests in a series of gloom-shrouded, goth-ish chords and flickering patterns of ringing, resonating notes) a chance to spread its wings – while simultaneously redefining the balance between the various different aspects and elements which have come to make up the core of Alkymist as we now know them.

It’s a formula – heavy and sludgy, yet also subtly psychedelic and often unexpectedly melodic in its own distinctive way – which the band have practically perfected now, allowing them the leeway to, for example, drop a relatively straightforward and hook-heavy headbanger like “My Sick Part” into the mix only to then chase it with a shot of gritty, grim-faced Sludge-Doom (“Fire In My Eyes”) that distils the nastiest, gnarliest bits of Crowbar and Celtic Frost, Acid Bath and Inter Arma, into five monstrous minutes of ferociously nihilistic noise.

Culminating in the expansive eight-and-a-half minutes of misery that is “Masters of Disguise” – whose keening melodic intro and sombre acoustic outro have more than a touch of classic Katatonia to them – UnnDerr ultimately reveals itself to be the sort of dark horse album which you shouldn’t be surprised to see and hear more of as people start to round up their year!