The Six Stacker: Tears In Rain

It happened… again. I bought an album I already owned without even checking. I saw Opeth at the Palais Theatre (sat down and all) and couldn’t believe I didn’t own their darker half of their double record Deliverance (the other bit being the portent of things to come, Damnation.) Turns out I did. Great gig, though. It’s December now and I’m still grumbling about the cold. What the hell? If I paid more attention in Earth Science classes, I’d probably know why. (Hint: It’s La Nina)

Whom Gods Destroy - Insanium

I love this band. I love this band despite how relentlessly American they are. Odd time signatures? Check. Raspy Jørn Lande knockoff on vocals? Check. ex-Dream Theater keyboardist? (Derek Sherinian, natch.) Check. Asian bass player? Check. I haven’t kept up with Dream Theater for yonks. A part of me feels bad, but a larger part of me doesn’t give a shit. This has been lodged in my six stacker for so long, it may have formed a symbiotic relationship with it. Opener In The Name of War is crushingly heavy if you still think Painkiller is the apex predator of heaviness. This is no criticism; metalheads rejoiced when DT released Train of Thought, their semi-demi-thrash album all the way back in ‘03. You get Hammond organ drenched barnstormers (Over Again), European style rock ballads (The Decision, Find My Way Back) and classic, fist-pumping bluesy Dad rock jams (Keeper of the Gate). Prog fans of a certain vintage - there’s nothing you won’t love here.

Officium Triste - Hortus VeneNum

I was scolded… perhaps pilloried… maybe lambasted by a underling during my iron fist-like command overHysteria Mag for suggesting the Peaceville Three (My Dying Bride, Paradise Lost, and Anathema) was ever a thing. I overruled him, so it is. As for Dutch depressos Officium Triste, Hortus Venenum is like stepping in a time machine to 1996 and flipping switches in the Cavanaugh brothers’ brains to make another run in the Eternity or Judgement sound. (They’ve been around since before then, believe it or not.) It’s death-doom in that Anathem-ic vein, undiluted by space rock or prog rock. They even crib their reedy e-Bow theatrics on a weighty eight-minute Walk in Shadows, and weeping whirlwinds of chugging woe on My Poison Garden, which passes resemblance to contemporary MDB. Pensive piano-driven closer Angels with Broken Wings… well, you get the picture. It’s a paean to the Anathema that never was, only real.

Ihsahn - Ihsahn

I still contend that OG black metal shrieker Ihsahn (Emperor, Peccatum, et. al.) writes music for Bond villains as if they were the heroes of the piece: elegant, sophisticated, masculine; with a streak of insanity run through it. A lot of this self titled record is symphonic black metal in the “anything goes” philosophy of Arcturus; blast beats meets belts of bassoon head on in Pilgrimage to Oblivion, for example. He doesn’t really ease off the gas all that much until A Taste of Ambrosia, an slipping into darkness instead of bat-out-of-helling it like the previous tracks. The Distance Between Us infused with his brooding cleans could be mistaken for a Katatonia cut, which isn’t altogether a bad thing. Best vocal performance on the album goes to the nine-minute slow builder At the Heart of All Things Broken, a multifaceted symphony that could (and does) rival the metal epic greats: Ghost Love Score, Hallowed Be Thy Name, etc. Ihsahn’s ambition matches his talent, which is all we as listeners can hope for.

Mother of Graves - The Periapt of Absence

Yes, I too had to look up what periapt meant (it means amulet.) For the uninitiated, death-doom died around the turn of the century; though there’s so many bands “bringing it back” I’m beginning to think it never really went away. Indianapoles (is that a thing?) Mother of Graves drape themselves in mourning and woe (like any death-doom cultist should) by way of death n’ roll in Sweden - if Dan Swanö (Edge of Sanity, Witherscape) or L.G. Petrov (RIP; Entombed) prodded their respective bands to really really get into My Dying Bride. Case and point being the double-time asskicker Shatter the Visage, which may or may not be a lost Purgatory Afterglow cut. That knotty and complicated riffing Swanö pioneered is alive and well here; even his clipped rapid fire vocal delivery (A Scarlet Threnody, Upon Burdened Hands). It’s walks to the precipice of extremity, looks down, laughs, yet never ever jumps off; which is a good thing because some of these tracks could easily overstay their welcome. Excellent in almost every regard.

Wytch Hazel - V: Lamentations

Crusaders in the name of our Lord (Jesus, not Dio) Wytch Hazel are BACK with their fifth proto-NWBOHM record and it’s… well, the Wytch Hazel we all know and cherish. Overdriven twin leads, throbbing riffs, huge nourishing harmonies, and sounding if it was recorded off Lake Montreaux in a Rolling Stones Mobile Studio while a razed hotel smoulders behind them. Thanks for nothing, Mothers of Invention. All their records are largely filler-free (if you want to be a child of God then all art praising him must be worthy of him, right?) and this one lives up to its title. The Demon Within isn’t all happy clapping; it’s introspective and downcast, an expression of a struggle with faith. 70s pagan (!!!) folk creeps into the Wishbone Ash (who else) cribbed The Citadel, darker territory still. Though we get a glimpse of that light and love on a cheery ender Elements - despite a confessional, sombre middle-8 - because not doing so would be far too removed from their mission. Another belter from a band who seemingly can’t put a note wrong.

Wormed - Omegon

Death metal? What about Clankerfied death metal? Well, Fear Factory kinda cornered the market on that like 30 (!!!) years ago. Omegon is a concept record “a cosmic substance defying mortal grasp. Amidst ancient conflict, civilizations vie for its boundless power, blurring reality's lines. From shadows emerges Krighsu, a timeline hacker entangled in manipulation by cosmic forces. Amidst surreal realms, he battles to unlock Omegon's mysteries.” Ha! Nerds. This is tech death rooted firmly at the lower end of the register, hollowbody blast beats the order of the day such is the tangled opener Automaton Virtulague (what the fuck) and the brutality doesn’t shift recalling Gorguts or Cattle Decaptitation, especially in the ever-shifting Pleoverse Omninertia (I am not writing these out again) Unfortunately for my tired fingers the most tech death of them all is Aetheric Transdimensionalization (fuck my giddy aunt) which defies Euclidian space… well it seems like it. Look at those clankers on the record cover. Now insert your USB into its Love.exe!