On the 22nd of November, Opeth will release full-length number fourteen—which we have already reviewed, if you have not seen it. We sometimes “go ranking” here at Angry Metal Guy, but in the case of Opeth that just doesn’t convey the profound influence the band has had or the depth of the personal relationship that I—Angry Metal Guy—have with one of Sweden’s greatest metal and progressive bands. It is therefore in the spirit of the Iron Maiden from Worst to Be(a)st that this particular incarnation of the rankings has been conceived. But this time, I have invited El Cuervo to tag along. Enjoy this trip down memory lane. I look forward to fighting with you in the comments.

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Angry Metal Guy

For me, Opeth played a major role in my development as a metalhead, as a fan of extreme metal and prog, and, of course, as a guitar player and songwriter. And they’re probably the band aside from Iron Maiden that I have called my favorite band most frequently throughout my life. While my fandom most certainly peaked around Ghost Reveries—having seen the band at least a half dozen times between their first US show at Milwaukee Metalfest and moving to Sweden myself—they continue to play a major role in how I think about music and how I interpret the modern metal scene.

On a personal note, I have also had the privilege of getting to spend time with the band in various ways. The first Swede I ever spoke Swedish to was Peter Lindgren, though I hardly knew a word at the time. I was recommended the absolutely legendary—to the point of being a cultural joke in Sweden—Jazz på svenska by Mikael Åkerfeldt on a bus one time when we were talking about folk metal. I once explored the basement at The Rave in Milwaukee with Fredrik Åkesson (then in Arch Enemy),¹ Eric Hersemann (Gigan, ex-Hate Eternal), and my friend, the late Adam Sagan (Witherfall, White Empress, Circle II Circle, among others) on my birthday before I moved to Sweden. Since being in Sweden, I have become friends with the estimable Martin López of Soen, which I never imagined would happen.

All of this is to say that my connections to Opeth both emotionally and musically are stronger than just about any band in the world. That said, I don’t think that I have as nearly a so idiosyncratic view on Opeth as I did on Iron Maiden when I wrote the Worst to Beast posts. Unlike Iron Maiden, I was part of the metal consensus at the time that Opeth was releasing its most iconic material. I was swept away by Blackwater Park and was bummed when they announced that death metal was for losers before releasing Heritage. I have been on this rollercoaster ride in a way that I wasn’t for Maiden. And I love these guys and all the joy their music has given me over the years. Even as I’ve gotten older and more jaded about Åkerfeldt’s schtick, I can remember a time when I could say in all honesty that I could happily put their entire discography on shuffle and I wouldn’t have encountered a bad song. So, this is going to be an interesting exercise.

As usual, I have created tiers. So let’s start with…

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Foregopeth

#13. Heritage (2011). “Heritage is full of great riffs and ideas, but not many very good songs,” I wrote in 2011 as I fearfully gave Heritage a 2/5—disappointing. Not only do I think I probably overrated the album, but I’m no longer afraid that people are going to think I’m just one of those people who think Opeth couldn’t write a good record without growls. So, I’ll be even franker than I was at the time: Heritage is bad. And the frustrations I have with the record are twofold. First, the thing that made Opeth sound like Opeth was the blending of different styles into through-composed tracks that felt utterly seamless. Heritage upended that—though this problem is part of why Watershed ranks as low as it does, too—and instead placed all its bets on an approach to songwriting that feels, nearly 15 years later, just as lazy (or rushed) as it did in 2011. I get this strong sense that Åkerfeldt was using keyboards as an overly expedient way to accomplish what surely took a lot of time on earlier albums; transitioning between disparate ideas that were not written to be played together initially. It’s like Åkerfeldt and Åkesson were just sitting on the studio floor picking riffs out of a hat and then saying to Per: “Yeah, so, just make up something to get us from Point A to Point B.” So while there are, as I said in the original review, excellent parts on Heritage, the whole is so much less than any individual part taken in isolation. Ultimately, Heritage is disjointed. Even if I liked individual songs or moments—I’m a sucker for that Swedish folk feel that they were going for here and have played with since—this album doesn’t stand on its own.²

#12. Sorceress (2016). One of the accusations lodged against critics of post-Watershed Opeth is that anyone who’s critical is just mad that they aren’t playing death metal anymore. While I liked Sorceress quite a bit when it was first released, this album has not aged particularly well in my ears. There are two primary reasons that it’s ended up being a letdown. First, as I pointed out at the time, the production was muddy, and when combined with the band’s “dedication to the blue note,” it ended up feeling like the most intentionally retro album that Opeth has ever released. But second, given that the album is quite angry—and given its ostensible oblique references to Åkerfeldt’s divorce, there’s an angry vibe here—Sorceress is the record where the accusation that critics don’t like it because it’s not death metal feels the most accurate. Moving away from metal makes Newpeth feel toothless at times. While Axe drops double kicks and Åkerfeldt drops Åkeriffs that seem at times reminiscent of the heavier material from Deliverance or Ghost Reveries, they just don’t usually punch through. When the band cranks up the intensity, that dog is all bark and has no bite whatsoever. With that in mind, I would probably downgrade this from very good to good, as I still enjoy it. And when these guys hit peaks—I like “Sorceress” quite a bit, but the real highlight for me is “Chrysalis”—I still enjoy this album. The songwriting is enjoyable, but it doesn’t quite carry with it those qualities that make the best Opeth records the best.

#11. Watershed (2008). Watershed marks the first time that I disliked an Opeth album. While Ghost Reveries took me time to appreciate, Watershed was a record that it has taken me nearly 15 years to come to appreciate. I want to take you back to 2006 when Opeth was on Gigantour. Ghost Reveries had been a huge breakout hit for Roadrunner and Opeth toured like crazy. A friend of mine and I had gone to see Gigantour in Milwaukee and had been given passes by then-guitarist Peter Lindgren. I asked how they were doing, and he told me that they had been touring like crazy, that the band was super tired, and that their label had been pressuring them to get into the studio directly after Gigantour was going to end. He told me that they weren’t ready at all, that they’d had only a couple weeks home, and that there was no way they were going to be able to produce something good with that kind of pressure. Watershed was a spring release in 2008, Opeth played its final show of the Ghost Reveries tour in Italy on the 18th of December, 2006. That means that the Watershed was likely finished in January of 2008,³ giving them less than a one-year turnaround after a grueling schedule in 2005 and 2006, where they played nearly 230 live dates. And I think you can hear it on Watershed.

Watershed sounds (to this day) like a record that was written and produced by a very, very tired Mikael Åkerfeldt. Peter Lindgren, unsurprisingly, left the band in May of 2007, leading to Fredrik Åkesson’s debut on this album. As well, Martin Axenrot joined on drums and despite having played in the band since 2006, had not yet caught up to Lopez’s superb groove and feel. And Watershed sounds rushed. This is the most obvious in the fact that it is loaded with uninteresting, jarring transitions—which I generously referred to as Frippism’s in my review of Sorceress, but which I never found to be as mad or well-conceived as King Crimson. Between the jarring transitions, the studio tricks,⁴ and the sense that there was just a lack of enthusiasm for death metal throughout, I never understood why Watershed is considered by some Opeth fans to be such a masterpiece. When I initially bought the album, the cover version of “Den ständiga resan” was the song I liked the most. With time, I have softened on Watershed. There are moments of greatness scattered throughout, “Porcelain Heart” was a good single—and I love the clean vocal harmonies before the classic melancholic solo and the acoustic part—and “Burden” was a cock rock song, but it was a good one. I’ve often felt that with another six or nine months to percolate, Watershed would have been a better record.

Mediopeth

#10. Deliverance (2002). It should come as no surprise that Deliverance is now understood to be an album where Opeth was riling in deep drama. Following the huge breakthrough of Blackwater Park, they were on a tight schedule and Åkerfeldt—in an act of supreme hubris—decided he was going to write not one, but two albums. And while that was a choice he could’ve made, it wasn’t a choice he had to make, especially given the kind of quick turnaround that they were on. On top of that, as the story goes, they entered the studio with essentially nothing ready to go. What transpired was an absolute nightmare of a recording session that would wound the band deeply and I have understood from what has been written in other places that it was sort of the beginning of the end of the band’s most iconic lineup.

And yet, Deliverance—while displaying some chinks in the armor for the first time in the band’s career—was still an absolutely wonderful, enjoyable success.⁵ Spawning classics like the title track—which makes fans squeal like pigs every time Opeth breaks it out—and “Master’s Apprentices,” which in retrospect feels like a preview of the style that Ghost Reveries would perfect, Deliverance was a record that reeked of greatness even when it was the result of one of the most absurd Night before the Test Cram Sessions that the world has ever seen. Being the worst of the band’s best material is a bit like playing in the Champions League,⁶ no one should doubt that you’re great. Shoutout to the clean part and the melodic solos in “By the Pain I See in Others,” I see you.

#9. In Cauda Venenum (2019). While not Oldpeth, In Cauda Venenum is a tremendous and interesting album of its own accord. Sure, in some ways, it continued the Sorceress journey toward feeling like a band out of time—lots of blues scales and that Bill Ward swing showing up throughout (“De närmast sörjande”). And yet, In Cauda Venenum is just such a thoughtful and fun record. And yes, I suppose that part of that has to do with the fact that I speak Swedish and so I was able to be charmed by the old interviews with Swedish children about God and death, but that’s reductive.⁷ The reality is that while Sorceress had a hard rock vibe to it, In Cauda Venenum felt like genuine prog; like Opeth was finally getting really good at working in the space that they had been trying to work in since 2011.⁸ Not only that, I have trouble seeing how people don’t just adore “Hjärtat vet vad handen gör” or “Minnets yta,” which find Opeth flexing muscles that I didn’t know they had. Or “Charlatan” which flexes old muscles in new, unique ways, and feels influential to the direction that The Last Will & Testament went. So, rather than feeling like a modern band making an old style of music, In Cauda Venenum oozes Opeth’s unique voice and charm—and this time, its lyrics weren’t scribbled on toilet paper between guitar takes. That sense of coherence is a feature hard to argue for when records like Watershed contain lyrics like “Do children cry / When mommy dies / And later in their lives / Will they throw their hands to the sky?” or whatever⁹—is part of what makes it such a strong record. In Cauda Venenum is a great, diverse, and thoughtful record and I think I like it more today than I did in 2019.

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El Cuervo

#13. Heritage (2011). Heritage enjoys the dubious honor of being the only Opeth release that I don’t return to at all. Significant volumes of ink have been spilled on the dramatic divestment of death metal on this record, even if it also represented a natural progression onward from the remainder of their discography. Nor do I feel the need to justify my enjoyment of non-metal prog; anyone remotely familiar with my music tastes knows that 70s prog is my musical home ground. Where Heritage falls is in its fragmented songwriting and album flow. One of Opeth’s best qualities is their capacity to write music that feels seamless, even if the transitions are sometimes dramatic. But Heritage introduces variety without harmonization; songs that stand apart from each other and feel less like an album. It sounds more like a compilation of interesting but perverse musical ideas deliberately directed at fans expecting more death metal. It’s by some margin the weakest Opeth album.

#12. In Cauda Venenum (2019). I stand by the 3.0 I bestowed on In Cauda Venenum. It’s one of the most varied albums in the Opeth discography, perversely resulting in one of their least predictable albums at a late point in their career. But while the bottom entry of this ranking overspills from variety for its own sake, In Cauda Venenum offers a smart harmonization of varied sounds, tones, and instruments. Sadly, although Opeth achieve more than most across multiple long albums, this album suffers the worst for this quality as I find it tough to digest in one entire sitting. In an art form where the purpose is for the listener to experience a collection of songs in a particular order and without breaks, I struggle here. I also find it to be less memorable than other Opeth albums. Ask me to hum a tune from this one and I struggle to do so, which consigns it to this position in my ranking.

#11. Sorceress (2016). Never satisfied standing still, Sorceress sees Opeth striking out from a predecessor marked by its dedication to one particular sound (Pale Communion and 70s prog) while nonetheless remaining a natural successor. Åkerfeldt’s trademark approach to progressive rock here finds new bedfellows in blues and Swedish folk, from the fat grooves to the whimsical flutes. This forges a sound that remains unique in the band’s career, especially when presented with production that evokes the band wallowing in a muddy pool. The bubbly bass, robust drums, and bluesy guitars each rely on a warm, fuzzy tone that’s deeply indebted to (non-progressive) 70s rock, almost reaching the heady haze of stoner music. Sorceress doesn’t enjoy equal quality throughout, with clearer highlights and lowlights than most other Opeth albums, but it undoubtedly improves with repetition. And though it may not be my favorite Opeth release, I’ll be damned if it isn’t their best artwork.

#10. My Arms Your Hearse (1998). I suspect there will only be two real surprises on this ranking. The first is where I placed Blackwater Park (“Why is it not at the top you FUCKING IDIOT”). The second is where I’ve placed My Arms Your Hearse. It’s a low-key fan favorite and regarded by many as a crossing point, from Opeth in their rougher, blacker days to Opeth in their tighter, deathier days. It demonstrates the band smoothing over some of the rawer cracks from their earliest material, and compiling their core fusion of extreme metal and progressive rock into the smart, knotty compositions for which they would achieve acclaim. It’s a clear precursor to the band that would come to define progressive extreme metal. And yet it doesn’t stick with me as much as their competing material. It’s bleak and heavy – arguably their heaviest record overall – but hadn’t quite found that perfect blend of lightness to counter-balance their heaviness. It’s just shy of greatness.

#9. Morningrise (1996). While its predecessor Orchid is no stranger to long songs, Morningrise stretched this young band to its limits with expansive, progressive compositions, including the longest song in their discography: the inimitable highlight titled “Black Rose Immortal.” It’s a record with fabulous moments but most tracks become meandering and drawn-out. And despite the general trend towards softer, balanced production through Opeth’s discography, Morningrise has a thinner, reedier texture than Orchid, positioning it closer to black metal than any other Opeth release. As much as I enjoy black metal it doesn’t quite fit their aesthetic for me, even if this texture lends it a unique feel in the band’s catalog. Despite its shortcomings, I still find Morningrise an entrancing experience; the detailed compositions, lengthy songs, and cyclical leads engender a rich atmosphere that feels unlike anything else. It was also the first indicator that Opeth was a band constantly seeking development and I will always commend progression.