Tracklist:
- Alms and Avarice
- Conspiracy of Exarchs
- Madness of Beggars
- Virtue and Vermin
- Dust Merchant
- Plague of Pawns
- Revelations of the Fallen
- Tarnishing of the Crown
- Psalm of Insurrection
- Song of the Times
It's a question worth
putting to all aspiring dark metal acts (and many established ones,
too): how many deathly screams, blastbeats, and swooping synths does
it take to summon evil? Blacksoul Seraphim reckon they have an
answer, and it's not what you'd expect. The latest brainchild of a
serial American dark heart, Morte McAdaver, the band sit snugly in a
grimy corner of the doom metal genre, bearing familiar tales of
fallen authority and lost grace in a not-altogether-familiar fashion.
The band and its creator
have set out with purpose and intent. According to their bandcamp
site, “Morte pondered the perspective of an angel come to Earth and
forced to endure the pain of being here. These are songs meant to
convey that suffering, pity, and sorrow that a fallen celestial being
might feel about us as a society.” That suffering, pity, and
sorrow is manifested in sweeping and majestic lyricry, carved out in
period-drama poetry which weaves its sullen way through the album.
Chronicling the lamentations of the fallen, these challenge various
themes related to morality and material existence, from the plight of
society's abandoned and lost to the greed and corruption of their
masters. These intentions might not be revolutionary for the genre,
but that's far from saying their not ambitious.
On the one hand, they
provide an opportunity for a genuine lyrical talent to dish out an
inspired tongue-lashing to the superiors of yesteryear. Confronting
a bejewelled and crested church, lyrics swiftly invert and pervert
the basis of its moral authority. The magnificent, shining imagery
of His glory glints with malice and greed. The crown “Jagged to
the touch – brimstone forged” (track 1, Alms and Avarice) is a
recurrent theme throughout (for a visual reference, just take a look
at the album cover): it epitomises a bankrupt and bankrolled
authority which conducts the minions before it with sweeps of its
gnarled hand. And it's followed by further symbols of imperial moral
authority, which are, in turn, dethroned by our perceptive cupid.
The very patriarchs themselves are transformed into selfish, brooding
pariahs in track 2, seeking gain and profit as they “nest/Under the
veil of rosaries/And the aegis of the blessed”, clutching the
spoils of their corrupt endeavour: “Talons grip the treasures and
troves”. Bringing disharmony and strife to the land, they, in
turn, worship a higher evil, “The Jagged King” invoked in track
6, Plague of Pawns: “To the prosperous priests he is lord”.
On the other hand, this
spectre of archaic resentment is invoked to lament also the plight of
the layman. His is a life of material deprivation and decay, ensured
by the demonic dictatorship of morality of his masters. Neatly
twisting the message of the chosen people, track 3, Madness of
Beggars, presents a broken and hopeless mass: “Poverty's chosen
have no place/They hide their own faces beneath the waste and leave
no trace.” But, despite the moral absurdity of this order, it is
based on nothing but stone-cold reality, as the lyrics continue:
“Madness...or so they say/No asylum can be found in this place”.
This all seems to be the
point of underpinning for the musical themes, which stay true to the
archaic feel of the lyrical themes they accompany. Sparse, cold, and
yet perilously deep, these are shaped by a small clutter of guitars,
drums, and keys. The chords and winding melodies of guitars are raw
and rasping, ambling their disdainful way between the steady bumps of
drums at a consciously reflective pace. Their path is traced out,
more frequently than not, by rickety piano keys which clatter in
rattling unison. This desolate musical scene is completed by the
menacing tones of deep but clean vocals.
It's a blessing (if that's
the right word) that their deviant spirit has led Blacksoul Seraphim
away from the dense string synths and satanic vocal screeches that
have come to define the work of so many dark metal acts. For the
sparsity and reflection that their approach offers is no less capable
of inspiring the dark forces and, in many cases, is far more so.
And, avoiding the wild overproduction, the music's raw, browbeaten
visage peers through with a degree of integrity and emotion so often
lacking. As the album mianders to its conclusion, there are times
when the dreadful tones of despair threaten to become slightly too
dreadful, droning ever onwards. But there's certainly no questioning
the effectiveness of their style in conjuring an atmosphere of
desolation. And it might also be noted that some of the weakest
moments come about when the stripped-back approach lapses, as with
track 6, Plagues of Pawns, where the less welcome sounds of
rapid-fire double bass pedals and harsh growls test the limits of
their musical self-control.
In music, as in lyrics,
this canvas is not neither new nor shiny; and its not intended to be:
traditional complaints of a downtrodden laity, visions of a
money-grabbing priesthood set against the miseries of impoverishment
are invoked in the best spirit and tone of the 19th
century peasant philosopher. So much so, in fact, that, when it
comes to the album's finale, Song of the Times (a traditional English
rebel song, dating to some time in the mid-1800s), there's little to
distinguish either language or melody (the latter admittedly, and by
the band's own admission, constructed by punky English anarchists,
Chumbawumba, not by the original rebel) from the rest of the album.
What is, perhaps, more
noteworthy with regards to the album's themes, however, is not the
band's construction of a past of unrepented evil, but rather their
use to demand a present of unparalleled liberation. Towards the end
of their otherwise historical (and, of course, hypothetical)
nightmare, Blacksoul Seraphim begin to raise the standard of
rebellion. It is a call made first in track 7, Revelations of the
Fallen, where the dethroned angel (remember him?) exhorts humanity to
heed his insights:
This place is for the
fallen, and so it falls to thee
It was my judgement
that allowed you to see
Now, the choice is
yours and I have sacrificed my wings
May you find release
from the reign of the Jagged King.
There
follows, in the appropriately named Psalm of Insurrection, a 9-minute
rage of the masses against their rulers, “As fevers rise with the
snowfall/And wrath swells within us all”. For, given all their
archaic imagery, the band have struck a message and symbolism no less
relevant to the deprivation and injustice of today. And the “ragged
man march through the city streets” of track 10 is inspired by
issues which are, again, becoming ever clearer to our own society.
Morte McAdaver, in his previous projects, has certainly had shown a
taste for rebellion, and various works up to this point have railed
against economic and moral injustice: this is no different; the angel
fallen to earth is, after all, expressing his anguish at “us
as a society.” We would, therefore, be mistaken to take the
archaic and mystical setting of the penultimate verse, which condemns
the elite, too literally:
The power that once
was held
By monarchs, cowards,
and thieves
Cannot stand against
the righteous might of the many that still believe
A
very satisfying conclusion to a very poignant piece of work.
Blacksoul Seraphim is a well-crafted yet self-consciously rough hunk
of coal, uniting the dark, damp, and dingy sounds of the historical
underworld to raise a banner of liberation. Never complex yet never
boring, this is a deeply atmospheric record which reserves its right
to dignity and deserves the respect of fans everywhere. Their
lyrics, some of the best the genre is ever likely to offer, carry a
message which we would all do well to take note of. So, come on –
don't just stand there! Haul your pitchforks and let's make for the
lord's manor!
Production:
5/5
Lyrics:
5/5
Album
Cohesion: 3/5
Music:
7/10
Percentage
Score: 80/100
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