The first two albums from Church of Ra-affiliated Belgians Oathbreaker were fiery slabs of dark anger which nevertheless possessed hints of invention: gaining the band a reputation further enhanced with an incendiary set at last year’s Damnation festival. Nothing, however, pointed to the emotional might and unbridled creativity of new album Rheia (Deathwish Inc.) Continue reading
Part II
Noticing Amenra would be doing an acoustic set on Saturday, it brought nothing but confusion since they are well-known for their vigorous, powerful live performances. Acoustic? Singer Colin van Eeckhout even admitted feeling very nervous at the beginning of the set. The band was sat in a circle in the semi-darkness of the stage, only slightly illuminated by beams of light. 013’s brand new main stage felt almost obscenely big for such an intimate setting. However, once they got started, this added a vibe of disconnection from the band that almost gave you a feeling you were watching something you weren’t supposed to see. They managed to find a way to play their 2009’s acoustic EP Afterlife so timid and delicate, that the crowd seemed to be in trance and didn’t wake up until their cover of Tool’s ‘Parabol’, which earned them a deafening applause. For their second set at the Afterburner, they were back to their post-metal selves, screeching, pounding and shredding in exactly the way we know and love them. Leaving us to timidly watch the ripples forming in our beers as if a T-rex came stomping by, while the magic from the night before faded to a distant memory.
An unexpected highlight on the Saturday was Brothers of the Sonic Cloth. Both captivating and furiously loud, their psychedelic visuals and droning music created the perfect setting for a lot of people to hang out on the floor of the main stage and take in the wall of sound the Americans produced. For those of us feeling more awake, progressive space-rockers Astrosoniq, led by a very Rock’n’roll looking singer, gave a more fast-paced performance in the Green Room. Walter, in official terms the artistic director of Roadburn, but in reality the true heart and soul of the festival, brought out his visuals to accompany Astrosoniq’s very psychedelic guitar riffs.
Roadburn 2014 favorites The Vintage Caravan showed up for a surprise gig at café Cul de Sac on Sunday. Well, I say surprise, but 30 minutes before showtime the venue was absolutely packed with people. There is only one way to actually see a band in Cul de Sac: be hella early. So we found ourselves snuggly between 150 hot and sweaty, hungover fans with no chance of reaching the bar or the toilets in the next hour-and-a-half. But boy, was it WORTH it. The Islandic rockers tried to drill out our hangovers with their heavy bass and guitarist Oskar‘s relentless headbanging let us forget that this was our fourth day at the festival already and we were supposed to be very tired.
The greatest thing about Roadburn must be the diversity of the people you meet. Surrounded by more foreigners than native Dutch, you usually leave the festival a couple of Finnish words wiser than you were before (none of which probably as innocent as they led you to believe). However, I’m not going to lie: people watching is right up there on my list of favorite pastimes, and there really isn’t a better place for it than Roadburn. Mainly because metal shows in themselves are beacons of creative and eccentric people. And Roadburn, well, that is the holy grail of metal shows. Amidst a goldmine of glorious manes and enviously long beards, there seem to be more crust punks than usual (thank you G.I.S.M and Converge) and of course every back patch under the sun.
One of the most spotted patches this year was obviously Neurosis. You’d think that playing two ’30th Anniversary’ sets would bring about its problems. After all, having a thirty-year spanning discography to choose from can’t be easy. Remarkably enough Neurosis managed to represent each and every one of their records during their shows, right back to their 1985 hardcore punk debut Pain of Mind. It is astounding to see how much they have grown and changed over the years, before they settled into their skin of a contemporary hurricane of genres, set to a baseline of doom. When the final tones of 1999’s ‘The Doorway’ sounded at the Afterburner, it left us with nothing but goosebumps, hands sore from clapping and a profound sense that 366 days are way too many to wait until the next Roadburn.
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WORDS BY CÉLINE HUIZER
The Church of Ra – comprising Belgian outfits Amenra, Wiegedood and Oathbreaker and sharing members between them – is a wildly inventive Cerberus which nevertheless tends to remain largely within the confines of its Metal boundaries. Colin H van Eeckhout is often regarded as the titular head of that movement but RASA (Consouling Sounds), the debut solo effort from the Amenra frontman, is moving, ambient drone with little of the growling anger usually expected from the genre.
The bumph accompanying the one-track album tells how its creation has tapped into the man’s emotions. Initially however, the effect is purely soothing: an atmospheric thrum, its gradual increase in volume coinciding with the subtly wailing harmony of the hurdy-gurdy. Fans of van Eeckhout’s day job will be aware that the agonised shriek isn’t the only weapon in his arsenal, and here his easy yet mournful inflections add further poignancy to a lament which grows more hypnotic as even less seems to happen.
The brief introduction of rhythmic tub-thumping at the midway point brings a level of fire whilst simultaneously retaining the gentle feel of a deer springing through hard ground, the tension building while bizarrely massaging the temples. As drums re-enter the fray the listener becomes aware of having been lost in a reverie: constantly juxtaposed elements of light and dark polarising the equilibrium of the senses, the whispering laments of the sensual atmospheres whistling through a forest and bewitching the mind, with van Eeckhout’s gently howled intonations continuing to both trouble and assuage the soul.
There are elements of Amenra’s genius here: the tremendously affecting last five minutes reminiscent of the suspense-filled lull in ‘A Mon Âme’ for example. Those who have witnessed the band live will also recognise a stripped-back version of the barely controllable tension as their sound builds toward its terrible crescendo. Much as with the indigenous warblings of Wardruna, there is no crescendo here, merely a wonderfully hypnotic, emotive coda which continues to build the protagonist’s pain alongside its irresistible relief.
It has often been said that the aforementioned Norwegians draw tears from audiences, so what this will do God alone knows. RASA is a half-hour embodiment of distress and salvation, delivered with the most moving, disarming beauty, stripping the listener’s soul bare and leaving them distraught whilst not entirely bereft of deliverance. Pure and staggeringly powerful, this is a compelling, wistful drama that must not be polluted by extraneous noise and should be upheld as a beacon of perfect expression.
8.5/10
PAUL QUINN
With both Idols and Samothrace members involved, the melodic, mournful qualities of Un’s Funeral horror comes as something of a pleasant surprise.
The sparse, shimmering beauty of ‘Epigraph’, the opening track from début album The Tomb of All Things (Black Bow), gives way to the Bell Witch-esque ‘Sol Marasmus’: not quite possessing the pulverising claustrophobia of that band’s gut-wrenching intensity but with all of their emotion, the atmospheric mid-point coming across like a Doom-laden Amenra with the tortured holler of Conan’s Jon Davis atop it. The surrounding textures are heavy and lamenting, contrasting Monty McCleery’s voice: a roar of nefarious depth which leaves used tar barrels everywhere shuddering in fear. Humming, lowing riffs rumble without the expected crush, yet the drop to the gentle coda is so sudden it is paradoxically deafening.
The chord progression opening ‘Forgotten Path’, meanwhile, is an utter reducer which invokes images of Dylan Desmond’s petrifying bass work, whilst the crash introducing a heart-rending melody awakens the listener from their cocooned stupor. Again, the descents into quiet introspection are as startling as the reanimation, which is occasionally quickened by Andrew Jamieson’s artful stickwork, yet always possesses the gravity of the saddest moment of your life. McCleery’s vocal is Ethan McCarthy-like in its fearsome power while the lead and rhythm guitars blend the inconsolable musicality of Pallbearer and Vulgaari with sinister overtones.
Those drums patter delicately across ‘Through the Luminous Dusk’, gorgeous post- melodies offsetting the guttural agony of the enveloping roars and screams. Whilst the overwrought soloing is occasionally more at home in a Rock ballad, Jamieson’s sticks, gradually increasing in power, maintain the track’s impact. The sumptuously mellow chords introducing the closing title track, however, regain that emotive quality and set the scene for some truly crushing riffs which are only augmented by that funereal pace.
Exquisite and poignant leadwork befits the closure of an album which, for the most part, balances perfectly its light and dark elements. A blackened scream takes us into an explosive, stirring finale and fully embodies the anger, pain and crippling sadness coursing through an affecting and memorable release.
8.0/10
PAUL QUINN
After bumping into three-quarters of Undersmile who by their own admission were now “on a band outing”, it was time for tea, and also to enjoy half an hour with our “Pressed out” esteemed UK Editor. As Diego Costa massacred a defender’s facial features (odd that…) on the big screen, the magnificent Old Bar provided wondrous sustenance in the form of a chilli dog, death burger and storming IPAs for just around £15.00.
This was all damaged in time to witness one of the final showings of the majestic Altar of Plagues, a band still vital, still relevant, always adored and fully compelling. The Blackened Industrial outfit caused the first real queue into Eyesore, testament to the appeal of the Irishmen who showed with mind-blowing creativity and a little more action (plus a real drummer) what C.R.O.W.N. could have achieved. It was almost impossible to see through the – yes, you guessed it – ridiculous light display, but the drama that the Boys infused into all by the inflections of their riffs was impossible to ignore. Leaning on the cabs of the mixing desk it’s staggering to see the calm yet assured way mixers Johnny and Harry help to make this all sound so dynamic: indeed, as the impossibly youthful James Kelly issues a subtle “cheers Leeds”, you’re nevertheless almost unsure who to watch next. Especially as there were no flashing lights emanating from the lesser-known duo…the swell of the closing coda was a fitting climax to a blinding set in more ways than one.
The second journalist to take the stage today, Nick Ruskell’s Witchsorrow plied forth their Electric Wizard-esque Doom which, though musically strong and ripping through the packed room, is not augmented by Ruskell’s limited vocal and rather unimaginative stage banter [PQ].
Solstafir at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
Last year, Icelandic post-rockers Solstafir walked away with all the (non-Bolt Thrower) plaudits, with the second stage unable to contain their emotive, powerful epics, punters locked out and the room filled to bursting. Invited back to sprinkle their magic dust over the main stage, once again Aðalbjörn Tryggvason holds Leeds University effortlessly in the palm of his hands, their beautiful, lapping, and pervasive striking hymns swirling and rapturously received [ST]
Amenra at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
Listening to Colin van Eeckhout, however, is like listening to a tormented angel. First harmonising in Benedictine style, then screaming in twisted agony. Barefoot and in shorts, he sprang as the incredible Amenra reduced the hall violently to tears in an instant; Eeckhout facing backwards, bounding and screaming maniacally whilst vast swathes of post-Black Metal crashed about him. There were few flashing lights here: just a black-and-white backdrop flickering between speeding clouds, rippling water and Flanders fields-style explosions. The drama, the mysticism, was as potent as the sparing chords shimmering from the guitars of the frankly alarming Levy Seynaeve: van Eeckhout’s head bowed, the aching wounds apparent in the ensuing screams. Halfway through ‘Nowena 9|10’, he spun and faced us ever so briefly, and the image was complete. Subsequently removing his t-shirt as he knelt toward the drums for the unnerving ‘Boden’, the tension and empathy could be touched. Shattered, spent bodies were somehow stood absorbing every last increase of sound. All bar the knelt, bowed body of the greatest living ball of intensity I’ve ever encountered.
Amenra were beyond moving and I’m unashamed to say that I was violently sobbing as I rocked back and forth with the troubling yet transcendent experience.
Robbie is in his fifties, and took his security role seriously yet with a degree of deadpan which endears him to the punter. “There’s never any bother here. Well, apart from it killing mi legs” he reflected with a cheeky yet droll sarcasm. Directing entry to both the Terrorizer and ‘Mine areas, it was an intense yet obviously enjoyable role for him.
Meanwhile, at ‘Mine, it was hard misfortune that saw arguably the UK’s best Occult Doom band slotted in between two of the best live draws in World metal, and clashing with High On Fire. As a result, the dungeon was half-full for a crushing set from The Wounded Kings. An atmospheric experimentalism married with a pulverising groove, Steve Mills’ solos were a real breath of air whilst George Birch’s oscillating vocal is almost unique, Pete Steele-like; his guitar squealing, his shapes mesmeric, the man has grown into a consummate frontman. It was great to see the two old friends duelling together in what is now a real unit, with closing track ‘The Message’ a whirling mass of pulsating noise.
Primordial at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
And so to the Greatest Band in the World™. Certainly, surely, the greatest frontman. It’s staggering that there’s room at all to get in to see Primordial, but thank the Heavy Metal Gods that there were a few slivers for a chubby dude to slip in to. “We meet again!” hollers Nemtheanga after a rapturously received ‘Where Greater Men Have Fallen’, and once more a rapt throng is in the palm of his hand – if there was ever any doubt. ‘Babel’s Tower’ saw a worshipping collective almost motionless as they dropped on every word, every dramatic itonation, every plaintive act of defiance, every indelible scream. “Everywhere I look I see old friends” uttered a typically effusive Alan Averill, subsequently leading the audience participation of ‘As Rome Burns’, a powerhouse which grabbed all in roared intonations. The euphoric yet moving ‘Wield Lightning to Split the Sun’ had Averill beckoning and clawing his belly with wrought passion, asking the usual question: “Are You With Us?!”
Primordial at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
As ever, as One, we were.
As is always the case, the closing band on the ‘Mine stage was half-attended. As always it was a big miss for the ovine hordes. Tonight 40 Watt Sun were minimalist, light yet crushing, and utterly heartbreaking. This band transcends Doom heaviness, Post musicality, Shoegaze emotion, and Folk personification, to create a chilled yet pained entity which simultaneously relaxed and tweaked every synapse and demanded to be heard and enjoyed. Patrick Walker delicately strummed his guitar, whilst his edgy Folk voice shattered the soul with its poignancy. And still, people didn’t shut the fuck up. The delight is that new songs were being played, the second of which – if Walker’s hushed whisper is to be correctly interpreted – was called ‘Beyond You’. It’s arguable whether such pared-back, Funereal balladry belongs at such an event, but not for the lachrymose souls like myself and what seems like most of the Belgian contingent, one of whom tells me to ‘Ssh’ quite vehemently as I’m instructing a fellow watcher to do the same; go figure… ‘Carry Me Home’ was received like a long lost friend and intoned lovingly and emotionally; there was a growing fear that the early finish was permanent before the trio returned to deliver a hackle-raising ‘Restless’ which, in true ’Queen in Rio’ fashion, was sung emotionally and lustily to Walker for the most poignant, tear-inducing end to a night I’ve ever been a part of [PQ].
The reason for the thinner crowd than deserved for 40 Watt Sun? A triumphant conquering from Swedish legends, and festival headliners, At The Gates; a barnstorming non-stop roil of jagged riffs and powerhouse anthems spilling forth in a slew of genuine metal classics. Liberally sprinkling the set with visits to last years At War With Reality (Century Media) showed the newest addition to their canon more than holds its own in the presence of greatness.
And if you wanted extreme metal greatness, you got it. ‘Death And The Labyrinth’ begat ‘Slaughter Of The Soul’ running headlong into ‘Cold’ in a set opening par excellence and par violence, matched only when ‘Under A Serpent Sun’ vomited into ‘Windows’ into a vitriolic ‘Suicide Nation’. Elsewhere ‘Nausea’ brought the sickness, and ‘The Book Of Sand’, amongst others, crushed as ATG delivered their strongest live performance on these sceptre isles since reforming.
As the beers (by now the in-venue piss of Red Stripe) flowed as quickly as the riffs, an encore of ‘Blinded By Fear’ and an unbelievably scything ‘Kingdom “Fucking” Gone’ devastated, before the fuck you of ‘The Night Eternal’ sent the throng home sated in HEAVY metal brilliance. [ST]
At The Gates at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
Damnation is always one big rush: for fan, organiser, band member, reviewer, and every one of those wonderful unsung heroes that help to run the day. That situation is made worthy by the realisation of the anticipation: all of the friendships forged throughout the day; the fan rubbing shoulders and glasses with the performer; the scribe meeting old friends in the form of fellow scribes, interviewees and Legends. For all of the magical days on a Metal fan’s calendar, there aren’t many to compare with the sheer enjoyment and camaraderie of this first Saturday in November. Amenra didn’t so much steal this one as clutch it to their fractured breasts for all eternity, but there were many more acts making this one so special. This has to be the greatest value-for-money exercise around right now, and the small but heroically dedicated band of organisers has left itself one massive, collective headache to work out how to match this for next year [PQ].
At The Gates at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
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WORDS BY PAUL QUINN
PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICH PRICE
Half an hour after doors opened to the latest instalment of what is surely one of Europe’s premier indoor Metal festivals, my gig buddies and I witnessed a spotty oik giving lip to a (albeit somewhat intolerant) doorman; meanwhile, one or two of said security bod’s less experienced colleagues were being unnecessarily stringent in barring perfectly acceptable entries to the Leeds university Old Bar. Youth, it would seem, is not always the desirable status us old’uns seem hell-bent on recreating…
The King Is Blind at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
As if to prove a point, the experienced boys of Colchester’s The King Is Blind ripped the Terrorizer stage a new one with their Blackened Death Doom hybrid and, in doing so, gave Damnation 2015 a fiery opening. The initial crowd had bred tenfold by the end of opener ‘Devoured’, and it was obvious from frontman Stephen John Tovey’s grinning visage that this was as enjoyable for the protagonists. Tovey threw horns with gay abandon and the band produced drops with the weight of a crash of rhino. New track ‘Genesis Refracted’ was lapped up by a crowd which needed a little time to get going, but eventually whipped up a small but vicious ‘pit’.
Undersmile at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
Undersmile had the crowd to themselves in the day’s only ‘non-clash’ slot on the Electric Amphetamine (referred to as the ‘Mine), third, stage, and every note of their shuddering Grunge Drone splintered bone. The screamed “Swim on” refrain of set opener ‘Atacama Sunburn’ disembowelled, the bewitching defiled dolls Hel Sterne and Taz Corona-Brown holding court whilst rhythm partners Olly Corona-Brown and Tom McKibbin waited to deliver the crush. A snaking, pulverising ‘Sky Burial’ concluded a hypnotising yet visceral set and surely gained this prepossessing quartet more fans in the process.
Wiegedood at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
The first offering of three from the Belgian ‘Church of Ra’, Wiegedood’s blackened assault packed out the second stage, no doubt partly due to the Amenra connection, but that doesn’t take away from the deeply meaningful assault; whereas our first visit to the Eyesore saw the fiddle-graced Post-Rock of Talons compel a sizeable throng, and my first encounter with the dreadfully affecting, strobing lights.
Beer was flowing freely in the University’s Terrace bar so it was somewhat surprising to see ‘Jack and Alice’s storming burger joint doing less well. Guys, the cheese and bacon special was to die for…!
Positively shocking was the crush to get to see relatively unknown Kent outfit Ohhms at ‘Mine: two minutes into their set showed the reason. Their bluesy, low-end Reef-esque workout was injected with added spice by vocalist Paul Waller whose mad barefoot ‘surfing’ was the Heavy world’s Bez / Ian Brown hybrid. Captivating, dangerous, infectiously active, the whole band created one of the festival’s most talked-about sets.
Voices at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
French duo C.R.O.W.N. sought to wrest that mantle but their nevertheless atmospheric, Industrial post-Sludge was lacking in movement. Their hypnotic beats graced by static imagery it was a creative and sonically violent set, lazy yet striking, and musically brilliant which almost switched attention from the lack of stage presence – and those fucking lights that also plagued a dramatic set from Voices, for whom the Akercocke spin-off tag was firmly banished by the incredible London (Candlelight); their technical darkness holding the room in its thrall despite missing a certain mobility. Over at Jӓgermeister the Church of Ra’s second offering was laying waste: Oathbreaker’s Blackened Hardcore onslaught drew a huge crowd; vocalist Caro Tanghe leading a frantic, animated delivery.
Sea Bastard at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
It would have been interesting to see if Sea Bastard would have filled the main room, as ‘Mine was utterly rammed for the eleventh-hour replacement for Black Tusk. This is a band of implosive power, Oli Irongiant’s lofty stature possibly the only thing to dwarf the power of The Riff, and let rip with the set of the day to this point. Oppressive, the shudders displaced vertebrae along with Monty’s coruscating rasp, while Steve Patton and George Leaver based rhythms that would have crushed Everest. Never has the world seen a guitarist who feels every chord like Oli: grimacing, building the riff with sways of his giant body, his roars needed no microphone. Monty’s dreadlocks hung from his face like the monstrous sea creature they portray during forthcoming track ‘The Hermit’, the rare faster sections still trampling most other acts to dust.
maybeshewill at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
In complete contrast to Vreid’s vicious yet occasionally inventive Black assault over at Terrorizer, Maybeshewill have decided they’ve been peddling their melodic heaviness for long enough and that’s a great shame. With more than a nod to the likes of Sigur Ros they packed out the notorious left upper room and left few dry eyes in the process: their sound icicle-cold yet sweet, nostalgic and heavy, their effusive thanks incredibly moving. Closing one’s eyes and allowing the pulses of light and utterly heart-breaking sound to wash over the head, it was easy to underestimate the fact that 40 Watt Sun was still to come.
The brittle beauty of the outgoing quintet’s melodic sweep seems apt for the story of Jim Willumsen, once of The Wounded Kings and the late, great Ishmael, now doing his fifth festival of the year as a fan. A protagonist of my favourite-ever gig, he is nevertheless happy with his lack of band involvement for now. “It gives me a chance to see loads of different stuff” said this quiet legend of the low-end. It’s also a fitting soundtrack for a meeting with Ian Davis, as former drummer of Grimpen Mire another crucial ingredient of that night and still mourning his former bandmate Paul van Linden, outside the room.
The Ocean at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
The Ocean came complete with cellist and a whole host of atmospherics, aided by my Bee 17 hybrid lager which, at £4:00 for a coke-sized can, seemed steep but it was a very pleasant change from the swill usually found at such events. This all embellished the German ensemble’s largely Prog effect but also contrasted superbly with the harsher elements of their sound. Jӓgermeister’s main stage was suitably packed, making it hard to believe there was a capacity cut for this year, but their set in 2013 benefited more from the vantage points of this year’s Terrorizer room. Ghold’s appearance at ‘Mine didn’t attract the numbers that previous bands had brought to that area but their darkened doom, like a Death-riddled Conan, rattled already battered heads. The inclusion of a guitarist gave their live presence another, more beneficial dimension to that on record.
Ghold at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
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WORDS BY PAUL QUINN
PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICH PRICE
Roadburn Festival has added some more stellar names to the bill with Amenra, The Skull, Green Carnation, La Muerte, Der Blutharsch And The Infinite Church Of The Leading Hand, Of The Wand And The Moon, Lychgate, and Chaos Echoes now added. Also renowned comic book illustrator and artist Becky Cloonan is the official Roadburn poster artist for 2016.
This announcement follows the previous one, naming Lee Dorian as the curator, and Neurosis and Paradise Lost in two of the headline slots.
Roadburn takes place between 14 – 17 April 2016 at the 013, in Tilburg, The Netherlands. Tickets go on sale October 2nd.
Three-day (Thursday – Saturday) and four-day (Thursday-Sunday) will be available to purchase from 9pm CET via Ticketmaster.nl for €165 and €185 respectively. Day tickets for Sunday only will be available, priced at €39. A limited number of individual day tickets for the remaining days will be released for sale at a later date.
It is during the fourth track, the abrasive ‘Of Stillness & Solitude’, a misnomer of a song-title if ever there was one, that you truly, madly, deeply get Downfall of Gaia. The Isis roiling builds into a chaotic clashing juxtaposition of rusted, raging black metal, vocal shrieks pained with frustration and defeat, and a draining feeling of epic repression immerses as the despotic union of sludge, post-metal and black metal, with a steady jarring relentlessness, wraps the consciousness.
Suspension of disbelief may have originated in the cinematic world, but it adequately applies to many albums – albums that act or behave as a soundtrack, or soundscape (vomits in mouth), if you will. With albums, it’s that creating of an atmosphere, that complete absorption into the feeling the band are creating, where you accept their alternate reality. The more cerebral will do this, guiding you on an aural journey. Cult of Luna excels at it. Early Burzum damned near perfected it. But take it from the hands of the Master Builders and put it in the paws of the less adept you get moments, like at the outset of ‘Darkness Inflames These Sapphire Eyes’, where apposite styles are forced together, when the brooding introduction hits cataclysmic rage in a ungainly segue, where it snaps you out of that false reality. It’s not contrast; it’s a cluster-fuck, as if a surgeon were to reattach a severed finger with a staple gun and gaffa tape.
If there’s a thin line between love and hate, there’s an even thinner one between tense and ominous and, well, boring and jarring, and it’s a line Aeon Unveils The Throne of Decay (Metal Blade) tramples up and down. It has the composite parts. It has the bleakness of Winter, the discordance and pervading opacity of Neurosis and the abrasiveness of Krallice. It has the mood bits, it has the caustic futile wrath, but it doesn’t always know how to put it together and keep it together. But when it works, when ‘Excavated’’s harrowing 8 minutes bleeds on you, Downfall of Gaia nail all the nuances of unsettling, bleak music and it is beautifully horrible. I get the attempts at contrast, I get the pervading mood of hopelessness, but I also get a lot of cut and paste, of not quite knowing how to blend it all together. There’s a lot to recommend about Downfall of Gaia, but this is not their masterpiece. Not yet.
7.0/10
STEVE TOVEY
Hypertension Records’ intriguing plan of releasing split 12” records with some of today’s most intense and serious artists began back in the spring with this little beauty which your humble scribe completely missed. After being sent to the naughty step, yours truly finally got around to listening to the damn thing the other day and (you probably know this already) is happy to report that it is gripping and compelling, often in equal measure.
On this stripped back but emotion-filled enterprise we get a dark and brooding Amenra, the clean vocal approach of ‘Wear My Crown’ underpinning, rather than lightening the sense of unease and disjointedness. There is definitely a sense of less is more here with the gaps between the notes having their own sense of impending doom. I know this is not technically possible but just take a listen. Likewise, ‘To Go On and Live Without’ is a subdued exercise in grace and elegance; heart-breaking, but in a gentle way.
By staggering contrast, the pummelling you get from VVounds is splenetic and full of bile and venom. You get the idea that VVounds are not an act to be messed about with: their heist like approach to song delivery (if song is the right word here) is without any sort of artifice or presumption; the energy is relentless and brutal; at their core is a sense of anger and injustice which leaps out of the speakers at you.
Both acts here are not for the faint-hearted, nor the casual listener. Both are intense albeit in aurally diverse ways; both though are very worthy of your time and undivided attention. My melancholy heart is with Amenra but that’s just me. Well worth investigating.
7.0/10
MAT DAVIES
Curated by Swedish experimentalists Cult Of Luna, the capital welcomes a diverse bill catering for enthusiasts of many different subgenres encompassing, drone, ambient and full on extreme metal.
Spread over the different venues (The Forum, The Dome, The Boston Music Rooms) means in actuality just a short trek between rooms, allowing for most punters to catch their favourites with little effort. Following sets from P.G. Lost and the restrained beauty of Blueneck, it is over to the Forum to witness one of the heaviest, most harrowing acts currently treading the boards; Belgium’s Amenra. Singer Colin H van Eeckhout keeps his back to the audience throughout but make no mistake this is a gut wrenching performance which mines the darkest depths of the human soul. His anguished shrieks add further power to the monstrous guitars that threaten to tear down the venue. Few would match this behemoth for unbridled intensity.
After Abraham abuse the Boston Music Rooms, it’s time for Justin K. Broadrick to bring the desolate tones of Jesu to the Forum. The video backdrop displays shots of massive buildings and otherworldly landscapes, presumably to convey a sense of how insignificant we are in comparison to the things we create, yet today doesn’t show Jesu in a particularly auspicious light. The vocals remain particularly low in the mix for the first couple of numbers and material like ‘Losing Streak’ meanders in a directionless manner leaving you wondering why such a big crowd have elected to watch them. Broadrick appears frustrated with the sound set up but frankly much of this project’s output is considerably poorer in quality than his work with Godflesh. ‘Tired Of Me’ has some memorable hooks but it is the exception that proves the rule. Ultimately this is a forgettable performance for an act capable of much more.
Thankfully today’s exciting discovery is up next with Swedes, The Old Wind packing the Dome to bursting point. Featuring the considerable talents of The Ocean’s Robin Staps moonlighting for them on guitar, their brutal and dynamic post metal is enough to drag you from the funk of mid-afternoon. ‘Raveneye’ and ‘Spears Of A Thousand’ bode well for their forthcoming new album. Former Breach members Tomas Liljedahl and Niklas Quinata have delivered a sound every bit as menacing as the genre shaping act from which they emerged but the addition of Staps is a stroke of genius. His weaving guitar lines adding depth and clarity to the brutal mirk his bandmates supply. Robin will soon find himself occupied with The Ocean again. It’s incredible the tireless Berliner has the time to pack in so many projects yet each remains of the highest quality.
Jimbob Isaac brought his new trio Hark, looking to remind people of the power of his former act Taint. Decent on record, the Welshmen struggle through a set of downtuned riffola where the band fails to keep time on a number of occasions. Jimbob is a highly engaging figure up front and the band has some punchy material but serious work must go into tightening up their live shows if this performance is anything to go by.
God Is An Astronaut put in a wonderful showing in the Forum. A shining light amongst the murky depths of the rest of the bill, numbers from ‘All Is Violent All Is Bright’ woo and seduce excited punters with uplifting major chords and infectious rhythms. Intricate without once falling into the mire of self-indulgence, they inject hope and light standing out amongst the darkness of their peers today.
God Seed’s nocturnal Black Metal would perhaps suit the more BM orientated Incineration Festival across town, yet Gaahl and the boys are in fine form. There may be no naked bodies crucified onstage this time but the brutality of the music is menacing, eschewing the need for such trappings. ‘A Sign Of An Open Eye’ begin their menacing set and guest appearance by Cult of Luna’s Johannes on ‘Alt Liv’ adds a new edge to the brutal track. Concluding their set with the vicious ‘Prosperity And Beauty’ and current track ‘This Is From The Past’ demonstrate this is an act unafraid to acknowledge their origins, but preferring to forge forward rather than rely on the Gorgoroth name. God Seed exemplify the primal bleakness of black metal and how powerful it can be.
All that remains is the colossal might of the headliners to deliver a much ballyhooed set of crushing, desolate post metal. Bathed in eerie blue light, the band remains as enigmatic and compelling as ever. A couple of songs in, the stage is suddenly plunged into darkness. When the lights go up original vocalist Klas Rydberg and Gaahl lend their voices to ‘Ghost Trail’ adding even more unbridled intensity to this haunting epic. It’s a moment which sends shivers down the spine and reminds us how potent the sound of this act is and how insignificant we seem in comparison to the sheer power of it all.
For all their might and bombast, Cult of Luna proves just as compelling on the fragile ‘Passing Through’. Its graceful open chords ring out through the Forum while the audience catch a reprieve from the intense catharsis only to embrace the vulnerable beauty which briefly surrounds them.
“In Awe Of” lures you into a clandestine universe where the dystopian worlds conjured by novelists like Orwell are brought to mind. This performance is more than a mere retrospective with Rydberg contributing to the piece with such a vigour and zeal you could be forgiven for forgetting he departed the Umea outfit before it was composed.
‘Leave Me Here’ from 2004’s ‘Salvation’ opus lacks the clean vocal delivery but still feels every bit as haunting as on record as it brings the curtain down on a set which many will speak of witnessing for years to come. Electing to take a break at what is the peak of their creativity, Cult Of Luna’s absence from the music scene will be felt by many but by the same token it will mean they are rightly revered and respected for their uncompromising approach to their art and methods of achieving their creative vision on their terms only.
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WORDS BY ROSS BAKER
