Anfauglir – Akallabêth Review

How much effort should be required to appreciate a piece of art? The Silmarillion, a posthumous compilation of mythology and historical accounts relating to J. R. R. Tolkien’s timeless fantasy universe, is generally regarded as a more difficult read than its more cohesive and narrative-focused predecessors, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.¹ Still, the rewards for such dedication are said to be great, and the rich lore also serves as a creative wellspring for many an artist. Anfauglir, an anonymous duo tucked away somewhere in the United States,² presents its own daunting work of art: a 72-minute symphonic black metal album patterned after Akallabêth, one of the main parts of The Silmarillion chronicling the rise and fall of the island kingdom Númenor. Now, I’m not the most knowledgeable Fela on the AMG staff about deep Tolkien lore, but I will nonetheless endeavor to expound upon the wonders of Akallabêth.

In this case, the term “symphonic” is just as much a descriptor of compositional structure as musical style. Comprising just four monolithic tracks, Akallabêth is arranged like a classical symphony with a black metal coating, an ambitious approach similar to that of Aquilus. Anfauglir’s orchestral compositions are no less elaborate than Aquilus’, however, they are more bombastic and grandiose rather than intimate in order to reflect the lofty source material. Although the guitars serve a secondary function in terms of carrying the melodies, Akallabêth still feels very much like black metal, with plenty of impassioned rasps and intense drumming providing an energy close to Kull or Bal-sagoth. Occasional female operatic vocals (Imago Latens) further enrich the compositions with subtle, ethereal undertones.

Akallabêth breathes and flows as naturally and effortlessly as a river. Though the tracks are immense in length, they are divided into more digestible movements, within which musical motifs and themes help orient the listener over an extended period of time without being over-relied upon. Much of the first half of “The Inevitable Truths of Time” is built around guest Tomas Brandoni’s classical guitar, and I particularly enjoy its interplay with the piano at certain points. In general, the plentiful piano sections serve as both transitions between movements and refreshing respites. The latter proves to be crucial because the surrounding orchestrations are busy; morphing between gorgeous, melodramatic, serene, menacing, triumphant, and a host of other adjectives. Though clearly aiming for cinematic grandeur (especially “Defying the Doom of Men”), they don’t feel ripped out of a movie soundtrack, nor do they feel trite or cheesy. Akallabêth is, in a word, excessive, but in the best possible way.

Akallabêth’s entertainment value is the other factor making its many minutes feel less fatiguing than they ought to. Much of the credit for this goes to the vocalist, Griss, whose snarls and screams drip with emotive inflection. The passionate delivery pulls me into the overarching narrative despite understanding few of the lyrics.³ The vocals also complement the choirs to create some of the more dramatic moments. The main aspect that mildly disrupts immersion is the sterile sound of the drums, which I assume were programmed, albeit with great care and attention to detail. Also, I wish that the guitars took the reins a little more often, especially in the few moments when they start to play an exciting riff that prematurely fizzles out (“The Rise of Númenor,” “Defying the Doom of Men”). Ultimately, though, these are inconsequential quibbles amidst a sea of resplendent and breathtaking music.

It’s been 17 years since Anfauglir’s previous album, and it’s clear that this was time well spent. Akallabêth is a rare case where the long runtime feels intrinsic to its identity rather than a failure to self-edit. Everything is meticulously arranged to make the best use of the allotted time. Further, they condensed a narrative period of over 3,000 years into only 72 minutes, an impressive feat. Akallabêth may seem intimidating at first, but it absolutely deserves to be experienced many times from start to finish. Much like what I’ve heard about The Silmarillion, you’ll get out of Akallabêth what you’re willing to put in, and if any record is worth a large time and attention commitment, it’s this one.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Website: anfauglir.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: June 27th, 2025