(Andy Synn highlights three of the more unusual albums from November)
This time next week we’ll have begun my annual round-up of “The Year in Review(s)” – which means right now I’m elbow-deep in the running document (which I’ve kept mostly up to date over the last twelve-ish months) of every single record I’ve heard during 2024.
There’s no guarantee, of course, that they’ll all end up being featured next week – the “short-list” currently stands at just under 400 albums, although I’m sure that number will come down a bit as I decide that I just don’t have a strong enough opinion about certain releases to include them in good conscience (it’s not about the quantity, after all, it’s about being able to present you, our readers, with some representation of each album’s quality) – but there’s still a lot of work to be done, and not much time left in which to do it.
That being said… I do plan on sneaking in a few more reviews before “List Week” officially commences, including this triptych of unorthodox delights from last month which you may well have missed!
MALADIE – SYMPTOMS IV
Let’s start at the end, shall we? Or, at least, let’s take a look at where Maladie have ended up, compared to where they began.
Releasing their first album in 2012, the creative collective known as Maladie (whose line-up has, at times, comprised no less than nine members) soon became known – in certain circles at least – for their uniquely (and apologetically) unconventional brand of genre-agnostic, avant-garde extremity whose shamelessly proggy, quasi-blackened style drew initial comparisons to the likes of Arcturus, Sigh and White Ward (check out this article for a primer if you’d like to know more about their earlier works).
In recent years, however, their sound has become even less bound by the restrictions of genre (incorporating even more influences from Prog, Rock, and even Pop along the way) with the result being that their last couple of records have paradoxically been both less “extreme” but more divisive than ever – too “accessible” for the Metal scene, but still too artsy for the mainstream!
It’s only fitting, then, that the last track here is entitled “Art is God”, as that really sums up Maladie‘s outrageous modus operandi – music is their one and only muse, and they’re going to follow it wherever it leads them.
As a result, Symptoms IV definitely won’t be for everyone – though fans of Sigh may well enjoy the bizarre melding of radio-friendly Prog Rock and riff-fuelled Trad Metal, replete with brassy bursts of squalling saxophone, which makes up songs like “Becoming” and “The Principle” – but definitely offers an intriguing glimpse into the band’s collective mindset… especially for those who find themselves a little curious for something a little bit “outside of the box”.
And while it doesn’t always come together as anything more than the simple sum of its parts (and some of those parts don’t always gel as well as perhaps they should) those willing to indulge their curiosity will still find it rewarded, with highlights like the unpredictably proggy, yet unapologetically infectious, “Far Away, At Home”, the anthemic extravagance of “Between the Stars”, and stripped-down, straightforward rocker “Of Mysteries and Secrets” (think Devo does Judas Priest) helping make up for the album’s occasional flaws!
ULVER – LIMINAL ANIMALS
It is become something of a tradition that, even though they don’t necessarily fit our usual criteria (whatever those are supposed to be), I try to review every new Ulver album as close to its release date as possible.
And having followed their career for well over twenty years at this point, it’s become very clear to me that just as a shark needs to keep swimming to survive so do Ulver need to keep changing and evolving (hell, their autobiography wasn’t called “Wolves Evolve” for nothing) in order to thrive.
Which is why I’m a little bit worried about where their latest album, Liminal Albums, seems to find the band – stuck (oddly appropriately) between the urge to press on to pastures new and the temptation of staying (and possibly stagnating) in a place that’s (all too) familiar.
That’s not to say that Liminal Animals is a bad album, by any means – while there’s an argument, oddly, that there’s almost too much emphasis on Kristoffer Rygg’s sublime singing voice this time around, it’s always a pleasure to hear his captivating croon work its melodious magic – it’s just that it sometimes seems (especially during the first half of the album) like we’re hearing stuff we’ve heard before… which is not something we’re really used to from the band, and feels like cause for concern.
To be clear, I don’t think anyone who is already a fan of the band’s work (particularly in the last few years) is going to be disappointed by obvious highlights like the smooth, slinky grooves of “Forgive Us” and the neon-pop nihilism of “Hollywood Babylon” and “The Red Light” (both of which feel like outtakes from the soundtrack of some hitherto unheard De Palma/Lynch collaboration), even if they never quite reach the same heights as the outstanding Assassination of Julius Caesar material.
But there’s definitely a sense here, most notably during the gloriously gloomy “Nocturne #1”, the Bowie-meets-Carpenter throb of “Nocturne #2”, and broodingly cinematic closer “Helian (Trakl)” – all of which, it must be noted, are entirely/primarily instrumental in nature – that at least some part of the band is itching to move away from the decadent synth-pop sound which has dominated their last couple of releases and towards an edgier, electro-ambient approach that’s less “MTV” and more “post-modern” in nature.
Of course, I could be wrong about that (it happens, from time to time) and maybe their next release will surprise me in a way I won’t see coming… in fact, I look forward to it!
VEILBURNER – THE DUALITY OF DECAPITATION AND WISDOM
If the preceding Ulver album was too “nice” or too “conventional” for you, then allow me to acquaint you with an album which doesn’t know the meaning of those words.
I’m not saying that Veilburner are a dumb band, by any means – if anything, the opposite is true… sometimes they’re a little too smart for their own good! – but if you’re at all familiar with their work thus far (The Duality of Decapitation and Wisdom being their seventh album, containing seven songs each of seven minutes, overall) then you’ll know full well that words like “simple”, “easy”, and “listener friendly” just aren’t in their vocabulary.
Drawing from the same weird well of inspiration (and insanity) as artists like Akercocke, Dødheimsgard, and Teitan (without sounding exactly like any of them), Veilburner‘s music continues to be a study in confrontation and contradiction, with opener “Tem Oph Ab in Mysticum” opting for a clashing cacophony of dissonance and discordance, fused to a series of dense, driving rhythms, while early highlight “Ill Visions of Hex-Shaped Hiss…” puts more of a focus on mesmerising, mescaline-laced melodies and heretically-hooky riffs.
Then there’s the two-part title-track, which combines elements of both its predecessors – equal parts weird melody and warped discordance, heaving riffage and haunting atmosphere (the subtle, yet vital, synth work playing a key role in crafting the album’s distinctly devilish ambience) – and the utterly outlandish (and utterly outstanding) “A Shadow of a Shadow”, which simultaneously pushes the band’s bleak, blackened grooves and freaky, psychotropic soundscapes to the fore in a move which is either genius or madness (or, more likely, a wonderful mixture of both).
As you may have gathered, …Decapitation and Wisdom isn’t the sort of album which is content to take you down the same old well-trodden path… no, it’s an album which aims to take you off the map altogether.
And while there are definitely enough familiar elements and motifs – Veilburner aren’t afraid of dropping in some gnarly riffs, that’s for sure (as the bombastic “Woe Ye Who Build These Crosses…” demonstrates so clearly) and the vile, visceral (yet surprisingly varied) vocals of Chrisom Infernium provide a welcome (and all-too human) anchor point (especially if, as one should, the listener pays attention to the wilfully esoteric, yet weirdly enthralling, lyrics) – to ensure you’re never entirely lost, this is still the sort of album which ends (both literally and metaphorically/metaphysically) in a far different place than where it started.