Graveripper - Seasons Dreaming Death Wise Blood Records - 2023
8/10 With the new release hitting the scene, I felt it necessary to first revisit GraveRipper’s debut full-length record. Having followed the Indianapolis outfit since its earliest inception, it was neat to watch the demo years evolve into fruition. Therefore, it should be no surprise that Seasons Dreaming Death realizes the general vibe put forth before in a more complete format. No-nonsense thrash with a blackened veneer is what it's still about.
Interestingly, for a genre that typically favors the rough and gruff on its surface, GraveRipper have chosen a clearer direction. Cory's harsh vocals never glean clean for even a minute, yet almost all of them come through as crisp and comprehensible as possible. Complementing this are the same riff-salads that defined their sound on the demos, sticking to a pretty basic formula that's admittedly not unique but is equally difficult to mess up. Thankfully, a nice swift runtime allows this beast to start and end without overdoing anything, making its statement quite digestible.
Considering the bare-bones nature, Seasons Dreaming Death is better understood as a single-purpose approach that still has neat little nuances from time to time. "Divine Incantations" might be a favorite, as the bass ups its ante and the blackened overlay is more ferocious thanks to its blast beat-tremolo combo before returning to the thrash metal roots. The final two tracks "And I Curse Reality" and "Only Coldness" really lean hard into the blackmosphere, caking on even more of this for the majority of their runtimes. On the other hand, there's some fun to the direct but effective method. A slower lead with chugging rhythms running to the solo in "Red Skies" comes in nice and hot, and I love the straightforward nature of the monotoned punch in "Premeditated."
A word I'd use to describe the general idea here is "safe." It would be dishonest to treat this outfit's first record as groundbreaking in any way, but its also exactly what I look for in a black/thrash debut. They're very clearly onto something by this point, the songwriting is competent and clear, and there's a desire to perhaps pack in darker artillery if the closing songs are anything to go by. Anybody looking for the fast and furious attitude under a grainy blanket should seek this out.
Two years following Vindicator's thrashy, trashy, but impressively catchy debut album titled There Will Be Blood, the Ohio outfit returned for a follow-up in the same vein showcasing early evolution. No hard deviations from the rough and gruff thrash under a youthful scope were present, but an obvious reigning-in of the chaos and tightening-down of the writing was present. Thus, The Antique Witcheries strikes the iron at that sweet spot where production has that organic grit with song structures that aren't quite as simplistic. I may be a fan of the latter fun, but that direction has a shelf life about as long as milk.
Such a description might make someone predict something leaning into over-sophistication, but Vindicator's attitude dodges that and continues aiming for a no-bullshit punch. As controversial as it sounds, this is Marshall Law's best vocal performance to date, trading some of the harsher shrieks and blitzing energy for a raspy but concise flow, touching the right amount of melody. Moreover, rhythmic integrity takes a step up in the riff department, mixing more intricate breaks into otherwise straightforward structures, and the solos are in no short supply either. Even the drums have an echoed tint that add a little personality, but not overdone to the point that it sounds like it belongs on a demo.
And as immaculately as The Antique Witcheries is pulled off as a complete package, I really appreciate the amount of nuances found from song to song. "Sewn To The Flesh" is a bass-heavy banger that utilizes steady power-stance bridges under vocals that use monotone to their advantage, while opener "Beneath The Guillotine" reveals the band's ability to morph their violent nature into something catchy from start to finish. "Raze The Dead" showcases strengths in obvious zombified themes under a suspenseful scope that bakes crushing riffs and crawling bass lines into the formula. I may even point out some hardcore influences in its little breakdown that precedes some of Vic Stown's strongest leads seeing us out.
Even the speed-heavy blazers leave a sharp impression, like the explosive "Fearmonger" that still packs in layer after layer of aggression. You'll get whiffs of the hectic fun from before in the form of "Quarry Rats," a goofy but impressionable number, and the title track's gang chants following several directions fit all of this very nicely. Hell, there are even early signs of the political and reality struggles that would come with Vindicator's evolution in the likes of "Communal Decay," which doesn't feel out of place with the slime and grime. It's like a reminder that the energy of the first round isn't gone, but simply evolved to fit into a new mold. What matters most is that nothing feels forced, and the different nuances in the band's evolution mesh together with the established attitude, avoiding awkward transition.
Given my direct insight on the band's history, I find it insane that Mr. Law doesn't particularly care for his performance on this. Maybe it's a happy accident, maybe it's another one of my personal sympathies a la Exodus's Force Of Habit, but I find the sophomore record to be their most essential work. No shade at the other albums, as it's all got its own charm, but it's tough for a throwback thrash act to really feel unique. If they nailed a distinct identity on any record, this is the one.
For about as long as I've been familiar with Silencer's existence, they have basically been a meme to me, nothing more. As much as I shat on it, and laughed at the hilarious vocals, as well as the ridiculous lore behind front man Nattramn's uh, backstory, it occurred to me that I never sat and properly listened to the entire record from front to back. The lone full-length titled Death, Pierce Me seems to have spearheaded what would become known as "depressive black metal," something I basically ignore outside of two Ghost Bath records. For nothing else, I guess the Swedish project's historical significance has to mean... something? A quick search did show the genre existing a few years prior to this, but I can't say I recognized a single name.
On paper, Death, Pierce Me isn't structurally too different than the Norwegian, second-wave format. Long, atmosphere-heavy songs carry roughly fifty minutes worth of music in the form of only six tracks. A grim and cool atmosphere is established, degrading the riffs into a coarse but comprehensive soundscape meant to enhance the heavy backbone, while leaving a bleak impression on the occasional soft parts. Acoustic guitars with the help of synth layers will spruce up both sides here and there for extra toppings, and cleaner electric guitars tend to weld it all together. For the most part, you wouldn't expect this to be much different than the typical Emperor or Mayhem album. Except...
We'll cover the infamous part next, that being the horrendous cry/squeal vocals. Obviously this is somewhat common for the sub-sub-genre at hand, but Silencer's brand seems to do absolutely nothing to add even the slightest hint of desirability. There is the occasional blackened shriek that fits far more into the blackmosphere such as in the bulk of "Sterile Nails and Thunderbowels," but as soon as you're about to take a shred of this seriously, the softer back of the song ruins that. Laughable wimpers that sound like an awful Yoda impression mixed with a distraught toddler's tantrum overtake a window of softer passages that work as a break from the harsher sections. Once the momentum picks back up, on come the crying wails that ruin any sense of decent riff writing behind them. It could potentially be easier to overlook if the vocals were at least toned down, layered back, or just less ambitious as a whole (see Ghost Bath's Moonlover), but that must be asking too much. For some reason, "I Shall Lead, You Shall Follow" randomly drops to demo-level quality, with the roughness somehow making these features even worse, not better.
All of that does also beg the question; is the music itself any good? The answer is really just a simple "I guess?". For the most part, the rhythms are about as black metal by the numbers as the atmosphere and general vibe establish up front. There are a few notable moments, like the bassy rumble that introduces "Taklamakan" before breaking into explosive drum blasts accompanying tremolos, but even this is later ruined with what sounds like hiccup/gargling shrieks of pain. You can find your occasional guitar or keyboard melodies that work decently enough. The opening licks on the album's title track are intriguing (at first), and the closing piano instrumental "Feeble Are You, Sons Of Sion" is probably the best three minute streak on the album. Cool, we'll throw Nattramn a few points for all of this, even if it takes also sifting through the eleven minute snoozefest called "The Slow Kill In The Cold" to find nothing of note.
Even with these areas worth at least acknowledging, I wouldn't call this anything resembling good music, even ignoring the vocals. They're obviously the worst part, but ultimately they just make a boring album far worse, and any good comes with bad tenfold. If you took the formula of In The Nightside Eclipse (an album I find overrated as is), cheapened everything about it, threw horrendous vocals to the top, and made the themes depressing and suicidal, you'd have this record. Even its presentation of such depressing themes is laughable and impossible to take seriously, sounding as if it was conjured up by a middle-schooler who's parents just don't understand. Each layer peeled back reveals something worse than its shell, and I can't really call Silencer's one full-length album anything short of a fifty-minute, cringe, pile of shit. I hope creating this helped the mastermind's mental situation, because it made mine worse.
8/10
Back in the cold, dark days of quarantining, a Slovakian outfit known as Malokarpatan came across my radar in my endless desire to find music to distract me. In a time where extreme metal was becoming more and more favorable to yours truly, odd hybrids such as this band piqued my interest. One might give them that odd "blackened heavy metal" title that simply means traditional metal with a blackened overlay, but my experience see's it as more of the reverse. With a few albums under their belt, the third one titledKrupinske Ohneis the one that still leaves an impression on me.
More than just a niche style, Malokarpatan's identity lies heavily in the Slovakian historical lore. Not that I could understand a word of it, but the cultural significance seeps into every riff and every passage in a way that makes Krupinske Ohnework better as one massive experience, especially since its nearly fifty minute runtime is packed into only five tracks. All over the place lies softer acoustic licks, haunting synths, fun keyboard tangents, and a tampering with instrumentation meant to invoke a medieval or even ancient feel. It may not be super uncommon for this to work for a transition from time to time, but more than that, this is crafted into the very fabric of the music to achieve such unique flavors.
Behind all of this still lies an insane amount of heavy riffwork that errs on the darker side of the genre, working in blastbeats for the more intense atmospheric build, all the while sneaking in plenty of melody. For how smoothly all of this moves about, it becomes understandable why so much time was needed to really land its impression. It also wouldn't be wrong to point out a heavy doom metal influence, one that avoids anything drone-like or over-the-top, favoring the slow traditional riffs delivered in a dense fashion. More often than not, this precedes the explosive, blackened tropes to round itself out with a progressive feel that retains the folky flavors nicely enough.
With all of this, I may even appreciate the sections that simply cool off all of the layers and simmer into an almost jam-friendly heavy metal lick, such as the majority of "Ze semena viselcuov čarovný koren povstáva" with it's Iron Maiden-esque gallops. The howl/growl snarl that the vocalist employs fits just as nicely for these sections as it does to the more monstrous sections, likely being all part of why this meshes together so nicely. I'd be lying if I said at times things didn't get the littlest bit overwhelming, but this is why I love these straightforward breaks. A very specific mood is definitely needed for black metal of such titanic proportions, but not for the reasons most would attribute to black metal.
Because if someone's gonna review this, it should be me, right? 구룡 (pronounced Kuryong) is a black metal act claiming to be from North Korea, from the special administrative district known as Rason. 백두의 소환 (Invocation Of Baektu)is their debut EP, dropping just a few days ago, centering around themes of the enigmatic nation and the DPRK's state ideology known as Juche (a unique Korean interpretation of Marxism-Leninism) played in a rough and raw black metal style. "Baektu" is actually a mountain held sacred by Koreans in the north that borders Chinese Manchuria along the Yalu, adding some authenticity to the themes. Obviously, bands have swung gimmicks for traction in the past, so perhaps it's tough to know how legit this is, but until I'm proven otherwise, I'll be assuming that this is the actual first metal release to come from the nation.
All of this aside, 백두의 소환 is a neat little EP of only nine minutes consisting of fairly typical black metal in the rougher sense, reflecting the second-wave Norwegian sound heavily. Despite the grainy textures, things sound rather focused, breathing clarity in terms of compelling riffs and competent structures. Three songs make up our short experience. The first track may actually be the harshest one, being a short blast of degraded rhythms casting an explosive soundscape before slowing the pace. Track two brings on some serious Emperor vibes, building itself off a foundation that nearly mirrors "I Am The Black Wizards," with some of the clearest vocals that maybe I'd be able to understand if I knew Korean? The way this one works in the slower centers transitioning into the tremolos is pretty impressive, and the clean/whisper section doesn't feel out of place at all. The third and final track focuses its energy mostly on explosive drum blasts and even hotter speeds, reflecting the first track a bit to tie things off in the form of an instrumental.
Below the surface, 구룡 crafts a pretty compelling black metal sound that I wouldn't really call anything special, being rather typical of this stage for its genre, but pleasing enough. There are certainly worse ways to spend nine minutes. As far as its legitimacy, it's certainly possible, considering it's easier for Koreans up north to access western media than absurd headlines would have you believe, especially knowing the region it claims to come from. Time will obviously tell, the way it did for Ghost Bath, but until then, I'm believing this to be a state-sanctioned outfit from the Tumen River's Korean port city.
A couple years following the moment I believe to be what King Diamond's entire post-classic career was leading up to in The Puppet Master, we'd come to find that it wasn't things ending on a bang. This would be the largest gap of time we'd see between records since 1995, perhaps taking a little bit of influence from before, if nothing else because of Livia Zita assisting with vocals again. However, the outing known as Give Me Your Soul... Please is more accurately described as a simplified version of this modern sound, almost reverting back to the sound that it began with in the mid-'90s. Though not quite what I would call "watered down" in style, I may describe the songwriting itself as such.
In other words, Give Me Your Soul... Please blends small hints of the operatic feelings thanks to the extra vocals with the expertise used the last time around and applies them to a far more straightforward template. Many of the songs operate on catchy choruses under an extremely clean production, almost too clean at times. Similarly, the solos slide in with such a slick feeling to match the crystal clear surface, with the usual driving rhythms that rely on that for structure. Together I must admit some of this feels a bit tired. Very little is done to really add that sizzle making former records stand out, and King is absolutely lacking in the oomph his voice once gave such a captivating boost, leaving no room for aggressive snarls or compelling outbursts. Instead, almost everything is pretty heavy metal by the numbers.
Thankfully, like I said, it's very competent, and I can at least say this doesn't feel as forced as Abigail II: The Revenge. "Is Anybody Here?" and "Mirror Mirror" almost deal in Iron Maiden terms with their classic NWOBHM under a powerful drive, and the pummeling gallop of the title track is pretty fun. "Black Of Night" stands out a tad with its vocal tradeoffs, and the album's general tame vibe helps the otherwise basic spooky chops feel like a proverbial funhouse ride. Just don't expect much more than that; even after listening to the better songs, they're not exactly memorable, and it's like coming out the other end forgetting what everything was like.
If I had to compare this to another King Diamond record, it may be The Spider's Lullaby, another one that does its job and has at least some bits of an identity, but is really lacking in terms of doing anything very interesting. Nothing is objectively bad, things are consistent, and the album's existence doesn't feel like a desperate throwback or cash grab, but it's not one I'll return to very often either, especially with its fifty-five minute runtime. Talk of another album has been in the works since seemingly forever, and we can only hope that it really introduces a new element. If it's just another one of these, I'd probably prefer nothing.
Following the complete snoozefest that was a sequel to Abigail, one might assume that King Diamond's time to shine has come to an abrupt end. Thankfully, the 21st Century run of albums seems to have several paths in how it wants to recapture the glory days, and it turned out the aging front man had not only a refreshing outlet prepared in terms of actual music, but in unique identity too. The Puppet Master is sometimes considered a throwback, but I don't think the band has made a single record like it. Not only has the music never felt this operatic and all over the place before, but it's also never felt this horrifying.
Let's discuss that for a minute. King Diamond has long dealt in ghosts, hauntings, and possessions, with mild deviations from this in the likes of The Spiders Lullaby to questionable success and House Of God to great success. This time, a different idea is fleshed out entirely in a witchcraft-meets-body horror sense that's not only terrifying in concept, but delivered in a way that captures all of that fear as if you're watching a movie. A story around gutting out humans, holding their shells of a body for marionette-type props, and preserving their consciousness for the profit of some grotesque antagonists is in line with some of the worst nightmares I've ever had. Ha, maybe there's also a discussion around metaphors for robbing workers of their humanity and leaving them a vehicle for someone else to exploit for personal gain, but I'll save that for another time.
All of this means nothing if the music itself can't convey it properly, but holy fuck, I don't think any other approach beyond the fierce riffwork meeting operatic vocal passages aided by Livia Zita would have been appropriate. Though King utilizes his deeper snarl more than normal here, it trades haunting emotion for grizzly terror, with falsettos being more of a topping to work aside Zita's paralyzing voice than a main driver for melody. Moreover, while the band often used synthesizers for effect more than anything, this time they carry a lot of rhythm and melody beside the riffs, adding even more depth to the proverbial stage presence. "Magic" absolutely nails this to a tee early on, driving crushing chops that collapse into the following "Emerencia," one built on steadier flow but arguably scarier delivery with its unnerving minor tones and chilling operatic layers.
"Emerencia" might also introduce another factor that truly sells this; the usage of typically comforting tricks put into a context that instead makes them feel even more grotesque than something openly demonic or ghostly. Soft, clean, and melodic vocals emulate an unclean feeling that I've not seen done this well since Alice Cooper's Welcome To My Nightmare. "Christmas" may have single-handedly ruined "Little Drummer Boy" for me, as I can no longer hear that song without picturing a carved up human-doll containing a conscious soul forced against its will to sing it for eternity (Sorry, Bowie and Crosby). "Blue Eyes" lays down the theatrics in a way I think even the best King Diamond records of early days couldn't quite achieve to the same effect; this isn't to say the classic albums aren't great (or even better), but I still can't take them seriously the way I do this one. Closer "Living Dead" may be another ode to that, however this works as more of a conclusive paraphrase of the horror we just experienced than anything else.
And perhaps that's the final point, how genuine everything in The Puppet Master feels. As immaculate as Abigail and Conspiracy are, most self-aware fans know there's still a tongue-in-cheek aspect to those that I just don't get with this record. "No More Me" details the body horror a la Alice Cooper without dropping a single hint of uncertainty nor awkwardness; its slow descent into a melody falling apart paints the gory mutilation into my mind like a brush and canvas. "The Ritual" and "Blood To Walk" bake in full-on thrash riffs that melt into the general vibe of this record without feeling out of place at all, once again being enhanced by the deeper snarl. "So Sad" works in emotional heart-tugs in the form of a funeral-like ballad that sneaks sorrow into what's otherwise terrifying, following the classic stomp-meets-epic footing on "Darkness." The pummeling drums in the latter somehow feel even more compelling than they do in the thrashier numbers, which was truly a one in a million shot of working with Zita's vocals so wonderfully. God, even the title track paired with the "Midnight" intro oozes terror in projecting that sinking gut ache of an otherwise harmless puppet show just feeling "a little off."
I don't know where this came from. In one sense, I think The Puppet Master is a complete realization of everything tried throughout the entire era without an era. The overly tacky tricks that didn't land at all on The Graveyard; the obvious attempt at recapturing old feelings that didn't land on Abigail II: The Revenge; the thrashy drive that wasn't quite there but was clearly thought of in Voodoo; the unique angle that miraculously worked wonderfully (possibly by accident) on House Of God, etc. They all meet, shake hands, and give their all to bring out something that's been in the works for over a decade, and fucking smokes everything in its path. In another sense, maybe King and co. just truly shackled down, were struck with inspiration, and ran far with it; you be the judge.
All I know is that this many cannons firing in so many different directions probably wouldn't have worked so well without the operatic overcast, the unique story, the different (but consistent) vocal work, and the bending of something innocent like a Christmas play into a grim and cursed disfigurement that feels like Sid's bedroom in Toy Story for adults. Alice Cooper already did that well enough several decades prior, but it was easy to dismiss that as spooky fun. King Diamond took it and decided to write an actual horror movie built on gore, psychological terror, and grotesque disfigurement. Well fucking done, man. Well done!
