I’ve always queried the ‘Funeral’ tag given to German behemoth Ahab. Their undeniably progressive, occasionally melodic leanings give their pummelling crawl a contradictory lightness. Fourth album The Boats of the Glen Carrig (Napalm Records) is a concept based on William Hope Hodgson’s novel of the same name, and is arguably the band’s most expansive project to date as well as boasting some staggering cover art.

Not known for an unadventurous nature, the outfit’s ambition here is nevertheless superseded by the accomplished sound, a crystal-clear production adding beef to the bones and an earthshaking resonance to the foreboding aura. Dainty musings give crushing opener ‘The Isle’ an air of mystery, decorated with Daniel Droste’s unearthly, growling scours which set the tone for this latest chapter of nautical terror. The sparing lead tones of ‘The Things That Made Search’ are evocative and emit the slight Gaelic tone expected of the scene; the subsequent mournful outset granted heartfelt emotion by Droste’s intonations and some subtle yet stirring harmonies. Harsher sounds are never far away of course, and a coruscating roar suddenly rips the ears apart, riffs surreptitiously squeezing the soul through indigent rhythms, veering movements and Cornelius Althammer’s fascinating drum patterns.

Guitar segues from lead to rhythm during ‘Like Red Foam (The Great Storm)’ are seamless, highlighting the organic, almost telepathic interaction between the instruments. Titanic explosions, meanwhile, wake the Earth’s core as they tear at the psyche, with lead edges softening the blows and solos adding an Eastern mystique. That Funereal bent does appear throughout, and introduces standout track ‘The Weedmen’: Droste’s hostile character the evil cousin of Tolkein’s Treebeard. The ‘cleans’ decorating the quiet section, however, soar into the sky and demonstrate the vocalist’s immense talent; while the superior solo work interrupts suitably morose, versatile riffs in arguably the most powerful yet emotional track Ahab has thus far recorded. The varying segments allow the fifteen minutes to fair breeze by, and indeed this is a valid statement for the album as a whole: this five-track version climaxing at just under an hour, yet the depth and meaning leaves the listener feeling every second.

The delicate, Torch-like first movement of closer ‘To Mourn Job’ explodes into a Doom-laden groove carrying more timber than a jiving pachyderm. Hushed, stroked chords open the second half of the track in wistful fashion, as if transporting the biblical character’s corpse to the crashing, swelling finale: mammoth riffs and rhythms that grind bone with slow yet dextrous power.

With more direction, cohesion and harnessed might than ever before, Ahab has produced its greatest, most accessible and soul-affecting opus.

8.5/10

PAUL QUINN