Happy complaining!

Angry Metal Guy

Mediopeth cont.

#8. Orchid (1995). Oldepeth gets far too little respect around here. And even I feel guilty dropping Orchid in at number 8. But for me, Orchid has long been the ‘forgotten’ album. My first exposure to Opeth was Morningrise, which I still consider the start of the band’s truly dominant, scene-defying (and scene-defining) run of perfect albums. But while it was the first one I purchased, their most recent record was My Arms, Your Hearse, which then was quickly followed by Still Life and Blackwater Park. While I was cutting my teeth on the ’90s Scandy scene, I didn’t have time to look backward. There was so much exciting music coming out and I was reveling in what I had in my hands. Yet, over time I have come to appreciate Orchid’s charm. The record is chock full of ideas and you can see the ways that Opeth becomes Opeth through moments: the use of volume swells in “In Mist She Was Standing,” which would eventually transform into Peter Lindgren’s eBow by Still Life and Blackwater Park. The moody, harmonized acoustic passages sounded a lot more like Metallica than the fingerstyle that Åkerfeldt would come to be known for by My Arms, Your Hearse. Even the use of nylon string acoustic guitars throughout is a charming feature of Opeth’s sound in 1995. The result is a kind of Protopeth that stands as a testament to sticking to your guns and just making the music you want to hear. And every song on here is a banger. Opeth is one of those bands where the debut stands up well, even if it isn’t entirely representative of the juggernaut they would become.

#7. Damnation (2003). Damnation is a brilliant album; a tour de force of sadprog. The songs boiled down the essence of the Opethian acoustic prog into a rich depression-flavored paste (with umami overtones). It’s almost impossible to pick the most iconic moment from Damnation, is it the introduction of the keys for the first time? Is it López’s deft, groovy performance? Is it “Closure”?¹ Or maybe it’s Åkerfeldt dropping the best acoustic material he’d written to date? Working with Steven Wilson on this record was the right choice as he was able to get the best out of the band, while offering vocal harmonies and even lyrics. And as a defining Opeth album, Damnation trafficked in exquisite morosity from the opening guitar on “Windowpane” to the “Ending Credits” and beyond. That said, Damnation lacked the thing that made Opeth unique; its upper range. Deliverance, which was the weakest heavy record to date, was always marred by having the least interesting clean parts. And it’s hard not to blame the strong twin that got all the good genes, or in this case, Damnation. A track like “Closure” is just begging for another 8 minutes of Åkerriffs and growls. Damnation also exposed Opeth lyrically,² I’m struck every time I listen to Damnation just how diaphanous and hollow these lyrics are.³ But that doesn’t stop me from belting them out while I’m writing this blurb. In its totality, Damnation is an excellent record from a band that wasn’t even firing on all cylinders at the time. Every song gives me the feelz, and it showed the world what Opeth could be without its death metal side—purveyors of excellent sadprog.

#6. Pale Communion (2014). Pale Communion is the album that Heritage should have been. While Heritage may have been the album Åkerfeldt wanted to write after years of playing music he didn’t really want to be playing anymore—an album constructed “of interesting but perverse musical ideas deliberately directed at fans expecting more death metal” to quote El Cuervo’s excellent summation—Pale Communion felt like Opeth. Sure, it was an undeniable homage to the brilliant ’70s prog that Åkerfeldt loves (“River,” or “Goblin”). But Pale Communion is different from the other records in the Newpeth era in that it feels very much like an extension of Ghost Reveries. With classic Opeth riffing and eBow (“Cusp of Eternity,” “Moon Above, Moon Below”), the album felt like the perfect blend of classic Opeth and the more ’70s rock and prog vibe they were going for. There are two other reasons why Pale Communion is a triumph. First, the composition—the voice of Opeth—is on par with anything Åkefeldt had written to date. The re-emergence of beautiful, thoughtful transitions was notable, of course, and it made Pale Communion feel like an album that had real love and care taken with the writing process. Second, Pale Communion is the best-sounding Opeth album ever produced. Clocking in at a DR11 and with a pristine mix by Steven Wilson, Pale Communion is the kind of album that is just a pleasure to listen to. My one niggling complaint is that sometimes when the band crescendos into Åkerfeldt belting monotone melodies over heavy riffs, I think: “Why not just growl there?”

Perfectopeth

#5. My Arms, Your Hearse (1998). My Arms, Your Hearse marks the start of Opeth’s iconic lineup and sound. With the introduction of López on drums—fresh off his stint in Amon Amarth—this record was recorded with Fredrik Nordström with Åkerfeldt playing bass because Méndez didn’t have time to learn the songs. Unique in the band’s discography, My Arms, Your Hearse was the first proper concept album they recorded. Åkerfeldt started this record by writing lyrics and he composed the songs around them, with the last line of each song being the title of the next song. The result was a tight and cohesive album that felt revolutionary for their sound at the time. While Morningrise and Orchid had a meandering and acoustic feel—a naturalness if you will—My Arms, Your Hearse leaned more into a slicker production. It’s notable how much atmosphere reverb on Åkerfeldt’s more compressed vocals gave My Arms, Your Hearse its most polished sound to date, and Nordström’s production choices define the album in ways that people underestimate. But the shorter songs, the tighter lyrics, and the overall vibe made for an album that properly consumed is heard with headphones and listening to it from start to finish.

Going back and revisiting these records in order, My Arms, Your Hearse also shows real evolution in terms of Mikael’s fingerpicking work (“The Amen Corner”), and his compositional habit of falling into a pleasant 6/8 swing (like the outro to “Demon of the Fall,” and “Credence” which follows). That 6/8 swing is Opeth’s gallop, and it is the key to Still Life and Blackwater Park’s iconic sound. And though it should be consumed as a whole, I vociferously contest the idea that My Arms, Your Hearse is somehow a letdown or packed with filler. Tracks like “When,” “Demon of the Fall,” “Credence,” “The Amen Corner,” and honestly I could just list the entire album here, are classics that I would love to hear live. This record is one of the best records I own and it is somehow my fifth favorite album in Opeth’s discography.

#4. Still Life (1999). Loads of ink have been spilled over the reason that we should all like Still Life better than other Opeth albums—particularly Blackwater Park. Those who know me might think that it’s one of the reasons that I—a rugged individual and the figurehead of my eponymous blog—buck the revisionist historians by placing it at #4. But, those who know me would be wrong. I first learned of Still Life’s existence because I was one of the lucky people who got to see Opeth play their first show in the USA.⁴ The boyish Swedes played Milwaukee Metalfest in August of 2000—making those who saw it less lucky because we paid to be at Milwaukee Metalfest—and despite the logistical nightmare due to the infamous cheapness of the skeezy arranger, Opeth played an unforgettable set. Mikael started that set by saying “We’re going to start by playing a song from our new record which many of you don’t have,” before kicking off with “Moonlapse Vertigo.” In 1999 and 2000—for the babies whose first record was Watershed and are very upset that I didn’t make it #1 even though it has two good songs and they really really really like it!1!—one did not just get albums that weren’t released in the USA without luck and huge fees. I even asked at my local record store after Metalfest—who really were good at getting me obscure stuff—and they couldn’t find a copy of it. It would take another six months for Still Life to be released in the USA. This means that Blackwater Park, which was released on March 12th, 2001, was released exactly two weeks after Still Life and to much more fanfare. So, as an 18-year-old who kept up with metal releases via the Unholy Metal Usenet group, I purchased Blackwater Park and never realized that Still Life had been released.

It would be a couple of years before I made it back to Still Life. And my journey back started with hearing “Godhead’s Lament” live. That sent me on to a six-month binge where I listened to nothing but Still Life. The album had everything that I loved about Blackwater Park but was slightly rawer in its sound. It contained some of the best riffs that I had ever heard and I found myself learning and aping those unique Åkerriffs in my composition. But despite its excellence—its perfection, really—Blackwater Park had been the kind of revelation for me (and I’d wager many other American fans) that Still Life could never end up being. It’s hard to argue, however, that Still Life is anything other than enormous and that it probably should have been the album that broke them in the US. The band continued to develop its acoustic chops, Åkerfeldt’s writing continued to tighten, and the mournful melodies that were so key to their sound at the time were perfectly united with the slick Nordström production and those undeniable riffs. In retrospect, this is also where someone finally cracked the nut of how to produce Åkerfeldt’s growls, which I think are still some of the best in death metal. This album is a triumph and there are still three to go.

El Cuervo

#8. Watershed (2008). Watershed divides the ‘excellent’ and the ‘slightly-less-excellent-but-still-very-good’ on this ranking. While Watershed enjoys incredible high moments, it also demonstrates the first point at which I noticed unwieldy songwriting in the Opeth discography. The songs are varied but the transitions are stark,⁵ resulting in a release that noticeably and bluntly chops and changes. Despite its accomplished compositions and exemplary instrumental performance, the flow of the album is more jagged than anything. Yet the unexpected, off-kilter interludes paired with some brutally heavy passages super-charge these songs into some of the most head-turning, arresting music in the band’s career. And though he may have been best known for a brief stint in Arch Enemy, the deft hand of Fredrik Åkesson proved an excellent addition to the band’s roster; he sounds bold and technical in a way that wasn’t apparent previously. It may not all hang together perfectly but it’s hard to ignore Opeth on Watershed.

#7. Orchid (1995). To be a fly on the wall with a group of teenagers in a Stockholm suburb, deciding to embark on an extreme metal journey for which Scandinavia was becoming renowned. The difference for these teens was that they wanted to fuse progressive rock and acoustic guitars into that. While fusing death metal with ’70s prog may be commonplace now, it certainly wasn’t then, and Orchid is a landmark release for this reason. It’s just as raw and unrefined as you would expect. Åkerfeldt’s growls have a jagged edge, the guitars saw in the Swedeath style, and the overall mix has the bass-light, lo-fi buzz of the then-recent Norwegian wave of black metal. Despite the nascent nature of Opeth, Orchid was far better than it had any right to be. While unrefined by their own standards, some bands never achieve the sophistication of what’s achieved across this unexpectedly beautiful death metal, packaged in remarkably robust production.

#6. Pale Communion (2014). If Heritage marks the last major fold in the Opeth discography—The Last Will & Testament pending—then Pale Communion is easily the best output of their modern era. In no small part, this flows from my bottomless well of love for ’70s prog rock. Pale Communion is, in some ways, the least inventive Opeth album given how strongly it draws from a specific scene at a specific point in history. You can hear a clear admiration of classic bands like Camel, Jethro Tull, and Goblin across the warm production, mellotrons, and bluesy guitars. Nonetheless, the clearest influence remains Opeth themselves. If this album was the natural culmination of Åkerfeldt’s desire to convey how much he liked a specific sub-genre then I’m happy that he was able to do so in a way that sounds completely himself too. While it may not be the most daring of Opeth’s releases, Pale Communion succeeds because it orients around one key quality: lush, exciting songs.

#5. Damnation (2003). Faced with the impossible task of a label that wanted them to reproduce Blackwater Park but a muse leading them down a lighter path, Opeth made the bold decision to record and release Damnation as an album twinned with Deliverance. While Deliverance is ultimately my favorite of the two, Damnation has a raw potency that indicates a deep emotional investment on the part of the band. Stripping back the heavily distorted guitars and growled vocals exposes an exquisitely despondent album of lilting rhythms and gentle acoustic melodies. Its emotion is palpable, expressing pure isolation and sorrow. While the astute listener might have predicted a soft Opeth album, it was the first (and the better) of two sudden stylistic shifts in their career and demonstrated that they were not satisfied to rest on their laurels following a couple of progressive metal’s most treasured releases. It was high risk but high reward.

#4. Blackwater Park (2001). A victim of its own success, I find myself pushing Blackwater Park down despite its wide acclaim as the pinnacle of Opeth’s career. While it would be easy to attribute this to my insatiable contrarianism, it’s not this. This album is everything from the Opeth sound until 2001 boiled down to a delicious, smooth compote. It finds the optimal blend of dark and light in its sound, fusing delicate acoustic prettiness with brutal, riffing heaviness. Its longest songs are real stand-outs, with excellent leads, flawless compositions, and jaw-dropping transitions. And yet I find it wanting. Everything before Blackwater Park still had the raw edge of ’90s death metal, conferring on them a savage bite, while everything after saw the band beginning to experiment more widely; from Damnation’s dramatic shift away from metal to Ghost Reveries’ jazzier keyboards. Blackwater Park is the natural climax to that point but I find it too predictable as a result. And yet the power of Opeth means it’s still an El Cuervo 4.5 and one of the jewels in metal’s crown.

The post Opeth from Worst to Best: 8-4 appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Remember those days when Unleash the Archers were a fun, swords-meets-skateboards type of band? Back when their vocals were goofy and their videos even goofier? Well, they’ve come a long way from the days of Behold the Devastation and Demons of the AstroWaste. Time Stands Still was the beginning of that transformation, but it was sealed once and for all with their epic Apex. Snatching the top spot on 2017’s impeccable Grier list, Unleash the Archers’ transformation from happy-go-lucky metal to power metal powerhouses was forever confirmed. After a two-part series where we saw Immortal converge through trials and tribulations, this year’s Phantoma tosses us into the future (12089, specifically) where AI rules supreme. Presumably inspired by the new wave of AI technologies out there, Unleash the Archers taps into those influences to create a hypersonic sci-fi soundtrack filled with a smattering of synthesized guitar leads and heavy keyboard action to deliver the power metal version of Skynet. But, with all the rumors circulating, just how much AI was used to make Phantoma?

I’m happy to say, this new record feels, sounds, and looks like a classic UtA piece. AI might have been used for a music video here and there, and even in parts of the lyrics, but it hasn’t slithered its way into the songwriting and vocal arrangements. However, they definitely pushed the envelope on their key structures, making Phantoma sound like something out of a computer-generated universe. That said, all the elements are here. Big, soaring choruses; gentle, melodic interludes; sad, heart-wrenching ballads; and heavy, battle-ready riffs. And, this time, we lay to rest Immortal and delve into a story about an AI entity trying to free itself and stop the destruction of the human race. But, how much more can Phantoma offer this tired tale of robot takeover that hasn’t already been covered in other media? And, where in the band’s storied discography will this new record land when released to the devastated masses?

As the rain and thunder subside, the rocking nature of the opener, “Human Era,” introduces us to a forsaken land where robots rule and humanity cowers. Our protagonist wants to be free from their robot duties as the bass hums through the verses and the wild key and guitar work take hold for the song’s mighty chorus. Its pulsing electronic qualities and ooooing/awwwwing conclusion set the stage for what’s to come on Phantoma. The follow-up track, “Ph4/NT0mA,”¹ settles into a steady pace with whirling Wintersun-esque key work encapsulating the guitars and drums. With another big chorus, our friendly AI bot seeks freedom and experiences a Neo-like awakening, hoping somehow to be the hero of the day. This track also exposes the other side of the electronic influences on Phantoma, as the guitars themselves mimic keyboards during the solo. But the greatest example of these influences comes in the epic “Gods in Decay.” Sporting one of the better choruses on the record, the dizzying keys and guitars blend so deeply that it’s difficult to decipher which is which. As our hero tries to convince the human race of their fate at the hands of The Collective, the finger-tapping passage and sad vocal performance prove to her that there’s no hope in these stupid humans.²

Perhaps the best tracks on the album are “Green & Grass” and the back-to-back “Ghosts in the Mist” and “Seeing Vengeance.” The first rolls in with chuggy verses that lend beautifully to Slayes’ gentle vocals. After Slayes drops into a surprisingly low register, doom rears its ugly head before the song erupts into a powerful chorus that’ll stick to you like herpes. Injecting low growls in the background, this building piece passes through some fitting solos before the final chorus repeats itself, growing stronger with each repetition. Then, it concludes with oooo’s and awww’s that make me feel like I’m in a ’50s diner. “Ghosts in the Mist” is Phantoma’s equivalent to Apex’s “Ten Thousand Against One.” Utilizing Evergrey-like heaviness, we’re thrown into battle as our protagonist unleashes hell as Phantoma. When the harsh vocals arrive, the guitars drag their knuckles across the desert rock before the vocals soar through another immaculate chorus. “Seeing Vengeance” is pretty much this year’s AMG theme song, as the main character realizes that only death will heal her and the world.³ The vocals and instrumentation march along, delivering some badass riffs ala old-school Mercenary, and stop-start Evergrey chuggery and solo work. I also particularly enjoy the rasps acting as a second layer to Slayes’ cleans.

Phantoma is a surprising record because, while still UtA, it’s very different from the band’s previous material. The story is hopeless and sad, the sci-fi attitude in the atmospheres and guitars is unique, and even some of the songwriting is like nothing the band has done before. Most of it works, but some do not. For example, the nearly eight-minute-long “Give It Up or Give It All.” Aside from the fact that the lyrics are atrocious, its inclusion of piano pushes it into weird territories. While the lyrics could serve as a sad, comical addition to a Team America gag, the songwriting serves up a weird pop-country piece with a Shania Twain vocal approach. But, this song is the only one on the album that bugs me. As one might expect, it’s going to take something massive to knock Apex off its throne but Unleash the Archers have produced another great album that flows nicely from beginning to end. Not to mention, they’ve done it by stepping out of their comfort zone and delivering something that stands on its own.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Stream | Format Reviewed: Streamy McStreamicans
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: unleashthearchers.bandcamp.com | unleashthearchers.com | facebook.com/unleashthearchers
Releases Worldwide: May 10th, 2024

The post Unleash the Archers – Phantoma Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

I’m relatively certain that Sonata Arctica not only knows who I am, but that they have requested I never be allowed anywhere near them. Despite them being objectively one of my favorite bands, everything I write about them just sounds mean. For example, I made a list of some of my favorite Sonata Arctica songs and I framed it as their “Unintentional Successes.” I imagine, at this point, that Mr. Kakko and co. personally dislike me, even though we’ve never met. That kind of sucks, because I love them, even if it’s a tense relationship at times.

It’s amazing to think that when I first heard of Finland’s much-better-Stratovarius, I was just a kid. I went out to order Ecliptica because I heard “Letter to Dana” on a web radio station and became completely obsessed with it.¹ And yes, there was something slightly pretentious in my initial listens, like watching Eurovision to laugh at it, rather than partake in earnest. I was young and very proud of myself for liking edgy music that normies didn’t like. And Sonata Arctica embodied an unabashed poppiness, Tony’s English often lacked prepositions, but—as I would come to realize—they wrote addictive and creative songs that often defied expectations.

Over the years, I think I’ve come to understand Mr. Kakko and friends, and that has turned into genuine respect. I gladly admit that Sonata Arctica is one of my favorite bands because it’s true. I’ve listened to them a ton and they’ve done a lot more good than bad. I’ve reviewed every one of their records released since I launched AMG in 2009 and will review 2024’s Clear Cold Beyond soon.² And with time, what I have come to admire the most about Sonata Arctica is their need to evolve. And the results of that aren’t always what I want to hear. But I simply admire musicians who take their shot rather than being scared of failure and grow repetitive as a result.

And for the guy who loves to write a list—like me and my colleagues Twelve and Eldritch Elitist here at the website—that also means that Sonata Arctica has an eminently rankable discography of 10 full length (without ranking the re-recordings and acoustic records). And motherfucker if we aren’t going to rank the shit out of that discography right here.

From Worst to First. You know the drill. – Angry Metal Guy

The “But Seriously, Why?” Tier

#10: Talviyö (2019) — Talviyö is the band’s worst album, bar none. The problem with Talviyö is that it is utterly forgettable. For the first time in their career, they released an album that didn’t seem like Tony was straining against anything other than his will to be recording an album. It would not surprise me to hear that after an intensive career, the man who once wrote about wishing to leave the show behind was suffering from a touch of burnout. As I wrote in my review, Talviyö is “an album that has no tension, no real experimentation, and the dynamic range of a brick wall.” It is the only Sonata Arctica album from which I do not like a single song. They’ve got nine other records worth spending time with. You can comfortably skip Talviyö unless you’ve got a trauma in the Anal Stage.³

#9: Stones Grow Her Name (2012) — Not to keep quoting myself, but I think I succinctly summed up Stones Grow Her Name when I wrote, “Stones Grow Her Name is like the combination of the band’s worst instincts and new sound coalescing into a record that is simultaneously uneventful but provocative in its mediocrity.”⁴ I’ve softened some since then, and there are definitely some standouts here that make it better than Talviyö. “Losing My Insanity” and “Somewhere Close to You” pack a punch, with the latter featuring genuinely interesting counter melodies and flourishes. And despite laughing at it back in 2012, “Don’t Be Mean” has really grown on me.⁵ But the weird banjo-infused Americana thing will forever ruin Stones for me. I can follow Tony to a lot of places, but cultural appropriation was a bridge too far.

The “Good But Flawed” Tier

#8: Pariah’s Child (2014) — Is Pariah’s Child the first example of the Sonata Arctica apology tour? After 2012’s foray into banjo-fueled demonic nightmares (see above), Pariah’s Child sported the classic Sonata Arctica logo and had a wolf on the front.⁶ And there are some good things on Pariah’s Child. “What Did You Do in the War, Dad?” achieves Peak Kakko, balancing awkward and cheesy with emotional and brilliant. “Half a Marathon Man” is an energetic and catchy track that complements other high points like “Cloud Factory.” But the lows here are low: “X Marks the Spot” is cringe af; “Love” is among the worst things the band has ever written; and there’s a feeling that I can’t escape here that Pariah’s Child was an album made under the duress of harsh criticisms from Stones Grow Her Name. And I think that undermines its staying power for me.

#7: Unia (2007) — AngryMetalGuy.com did not exist in 2007, so we have been spared the rambling, linear, and—if I’m totally honest with myself—ultimately whiny review that I would have written about Unia at the time. And while definitely not my favorite Sonata Arctica album, one can hear the blueprint for their better material from the late era. And you know what? Unlike Pariah’s Child, it feels like they were just doing what they wanted to do at the time. It’s too damned long and not everything works, but it was a far more vital albums than I think any of us were willing to admit at the time. Unia opens particularly strongly with “In Black and White” and “Paid in Full,” the record rips it up on “The Harvest,” while “It Won’t Fade” features one of my favorite Sonata Arctica choruses.⁷ Say what you want, Unia is pretty well-produced and features seriously lush orchestral arrangements. And sure, it’s brought down by “Caleb” and snoozy tracks like “For the Sake of Revenge,” but it laid the groundwork for a successful second act.

#6: Silence (2001) — Silence was my first Sonata Arctica album. After hearing “Letter to Dana” on a web radio station, I went to order Ecliptica straight away. Weirdly, two or three days later I received promos from my then-boss and now AMG-alum Al Kikuras with the promo for Silence. To my dismay, I didn’t love it. Basically, I think Silence is Sonata Arctica‘s answer to Fear of the Dark. In many ways, it’s an iconic record because of its high points: “Wolf & Raven,” “Weballergy,” “San Sebastian” and “Black Sheep” are all excellent songs that I want to hear live. But at an hour long, it also included shitshows like “The End of This Chapter,” “Last Drop Falls,” and the worst followup to Ecliptica’s Best. Power. Ballad. Ever…: “Tallulah.” All-in-all, this record is both great and flawed. See, it’s Fear of the Dark!

#5: Ecliptica (1999) — My sense is that Ecliptica is where many fans’ relationship both started and ended and I think that’s a shame.⁸ While loaded with absolutely top tier, undeniable classics like “UnOpened,” “Letter to Dana,” “FullMoon” and “Blank File,” I’ve always felt like the songwriting here was just immature compared to a lot of what the band would go on to do. They proved that they could produce great, catchy power metal and they could do it really well here. And they wrote some of my favorite metal songs ever—and the best power ballad since the ’80s—but the band has gone on to heights that they weren’t even close to reaching here. This may, in fact, be the band’s most overrated record, even if I still love it.

#4: The Ninth Hour (2016) — “As a whole, The Ninth Hour is interesting, surprising, and thankfully free of banjo” is how I summarized the nice things I had to say about the album when it dropped. And I stand by it. The Ninth Hour is an example of how when Kakko hits, he really hits. Gripes about the production aside, The Ninth Hour is full of adventurous songs and ideas—even some older-fashioned ones—but doesn’t feel like an Apology Tour record, but rather just finds Tony doing Tony. The record’s crowning glory may in fact be “We Are What We Are,” a song that so bleakly encapsulates the problems facing the world because of humanity that it caused me to remark to my fellow writers “fatalistic Kakko may be the best Kakko” in Slack. But “We Are What We Are” isn’t an exception, The Ninth Hour is an album chock full of songs, riffs, and lyrics worth hearing.⁹ Still, it’s not without its flaws, and the fact that it sounds bad makes it hard to rank higher.

The “Wait, Is Sonata Arctica Actually Finland’s Best Export?” Tier

#3: Winterheart’s Guild (2003) — Winterheart’s Guild is where Sonata Arctica truly clicked over from good to great for me. While their first two albums are considered Europower royalty by so many fans of the genre, Winterheart’s Guild found them adding brilliant new wrinkles. As is often the case, it’s the higher quality slower and more progressive tracks that make Winterheart’s Guild better than its predecessor. In particular, “Broken” is a highlight, improving on what didn’t work on “Sing of Silence.” And while closer “Draw Me” drips like badly made queso, it really shows off Kakko’s lungs and is the perfect way to round out the album. And aside from these songs, the rest of the album is straight bangers. My particular favorite is probably “The Cage,” which easily could have been on either of the first two records, but there isn’t a bad song on here.

#2: The Days of Grays (2009) — I didn’t used to love The Days of Grays as much as I do today. In fact, I had a bit of a U-shaped trajectory with the album. When it was released in 2009, following Unia, I wanted some of that intensity from earlier albums back. But the band didn’t break out the old logo, even if they did rework an old demo for “Flag in the Ground.” Instead, they just kept writing in a vein that really cemented their vision. Like so many first albums with a new sound, Unia hadn’t quite solved their new sound yet. And, for me, it’s The Days of Grays where the late-Sonata Arctica sound really began to clarify. Weird and progressive? “The Dead Skin” does that so well. Big, complex and orchestral? Try on “Deathaura” for size! Surprising, absurd and macabre? “Juliet” is absolutely brilliant.¹⁰ We even get fatalistic Kakko being fatalistic on “As if the World Wasn’t Ending.” This album doesn’t have a flaw and anyone who tells you it does is leading you astray. Even as long as it is, The Days of Grays is a brilliant record.

#1: Reckoning Night (2004) — I remember getting my hands on Reckoning Night and dang, it was good. At 20 years olde this year, I can still remember those first listens like it was yesterday. What’s brilliant about this album is the way in which you can witness their sound starting to really solidify. While they were getting better as songwriters on Winterhheart’s Guild, Reckoning Night is where the combination of their old sound and the basis of their new sound met and created perfection. The highs on the album are really high. Again, even the mid-paced stuff that tends to be the band’s weakest moments—like the rocky “Blinded No More”—makes me want to grill burgers and drink shitty lager rather than skip it. “Ain’t Your Fairytale” and “Don’t Say a Word” are classics, and almost every song on here is encore-worthy on a setlist. The one black eye is “My Selene,” which would be a welcome replacement on several of their albums, but is a bit too safe in the context of Reckoning Night. Still, if you want to hear the Platonic ideal of the Sonata Arctica sound? It’s contained in these 55 minutes of brilliant, olde power metal.

Eldritch Elitist

Upon first discovering power metal via the majesty of DragonForce—at precisely the correct age for such majesty to take full effect (13 and change)—I began hunting for more. My search quickly led me to PureVolume, where I encountered Sonata Arctica‘s “Victoria’s Secret,” and I was immediately hooked. Sonata Arctica didn’t just have the speed and melodic prowess of DragonForce; they had angst. I was drawn in by the perpetually lovelorn lyrics of one Tony “No Bitches” Kakko,¹¹ which resonated more strongly with my intensely hormonal adolescent self than I care to admit. I became a Sonata Arctica obsessive in short order, just in time for Unia to rear its head, along with the band’s proclamation that they were “bored as fuck” with playing the type of music I’d come to love so dearly. They have backpedaled to their power metal roots on multiple occasions since then, always in seemingly obligatory fashion, but their greatest post-heyday successes are often found in their most experimental works. Such experimentation makes a ranking as this one a viable endeavor. Prepare for a whole bunch of weirdness and cringe, which will gradually wane (yet never entirely fade, not really) as we make our way to the number one spot.

#10. Talviyö (2019) — I’m enough of a fan of Sonata Arctica that I generally assume a solid sense of what the band is setting out to do with each new album. I have no fucking clue what they were doing with Talviyö. Part of that is because not so much as a single note manages to stick with me. Its melodies, riffs (wait – are there any??), and writing are so unassuming that I can’t process the album because it refuses to exist in my memory. The production shares the remainder—and perhaps the lion’s share—of the blame. Detractors often compare Sonata Arctica unfavorably to Christmas music, but most classic holiday fare has edgier and more impactful production than this muddled, soft rock-adjacent mess. The death knell comes from a career-worst showing from Tony Kakko, whose muted, nasal performances give the impression that he caught a cold just before tracking vocals, and no one could be bothered to re-book his studio time. I sort of like the chorus of “Message from the Sun,” so I’ll give that a shout-out so that I have something from Talviyö to offer the ranking playlist. Now, please excuse me as I never listen to it again.

#9. The Days of Grays (2009) — It hurts to rank The Days of Grays so low when its first three tracks (excluding the intro) are so good. “Deathaura” is a creepy, yet ultimately somber and lovely epic, and both “The Last Amazing Grays” and “Flag in the Ground” are straightforward power metal romps that could have slotted comfortably into Reckoning Night’s tracklist. Every single song that follows, with the exception of the dramatic “Juliet,” is an absolute slog. The then-recent departure of guitarist Jani Liimatainen is nearly tangible, evidenced in the plodding guitar work comprising stale power chord progressions and mindless, metalcore-esque chugs. Tony Kakko’s vocal melodies, meanwhile, represent more of an approximation of Sonata Arctica’s once-prized romanticism than the genuine article. Beyond its scarce highlights, this album is by and large a chore to get through in one sitting, and on most days I’d sooner pick the dogged competence of Unia than trudge through the full hour of The Days of Grays.¹²

#8. Unia (2007) — You had to have been there to understand how reviled Unia was at release. It arrived hot on the heels of several “experimental” departures from established power metal titans such as Stratovarius, Blind Guardian, and Edguy; it felt like traditional power metal was dying, and with Unia, Sonata Arctica threw more fuel on an already furious fire. In retrospect, while its renewed stake in prog and de-emphasized melodies certainly signaled the end of Sonata Arctica’s heyday, Unia is basically the consummate AMG 2.5. Its material is competent, and the band performs it with respectable conviction. Yet the material isn’t just forgettable; it’s un-memorable. I’ve returned to Unia many times over the years, yet outside of the decently catchy “Paid in Full,” I could never possibly recall a single note from it without having been recently exposed. If nothing else, it’s worth a listen for its unintentionally hilarious lyrics, especially this zinger from “Caleb”: “The words were not meant to hurt, only destroy you, my stupid son.”

#7. Pariah’s Child (2014) — Sonata Arctica went hard in emphasizing Pariah’s Child as a return to power metal form, going as far as to revert to their old logo, plastered on an album cover that nowadays would be the result of entering “Generic Sonata Arctica Album Art” as a prompt into your non-ethical AI art generator of choice. Pariah’s Child certainly did not reprise the band’s glory days, but it’s definitely fun, if frontloaded. In a sort of reverse Days of Grays scenario, the final three tracks can’t live up to the seven which precede it; “X Marks the Spot” is just embarrassing, “Love” might be the band’s worst ballad, and “Larger Than Life” is easily the most forgettable of Sonata Arctica’s long-form tracks. On the flipside, “Running Lights,” “Blood,” and “What Did You Do in the War, Dad?” are all late-career highlights that have lured me back to Pariah’s Child on occasion. It might just be the least consistent album of this band’s career,¹³ but really, when it comes to Sonata Arctica’s discography, doesn’t that make it kinda poetic?

#6. Stones Grow Her Name (2012) — The initial reception to Stones Grow Her Name from fans and journalists was so negative that I gave it one skeptical half-listen listen back when it released, and never returned until buckling down for this ranking. In what is easily the biggest surprise of this ranking process, I found that I actually like it quite well. It pays dividends to divorce Stones Grow Her Name from the context of Sonata Arctica’s history. A collection of catchy, rock-oriented power metal songs, its solid hooks and energy level feel mightily refreshing coming off the heels of the sluggish The Days of Grays. There are songs here that could have been fan favorites in any other context (especially “Losing My Insanity”), but its quirky novelties are generally a blast (“Alone in Heaven,” “Cinderblox”), and I’ve even learned to embrace the cringe of the infamous “Shitload of Money” (What she got??). The sequels to “Wildfire” remain totally perplexing in concept, but are pretty entertaining in execution. And really, a simply fun time is a best-case scenario when dealing with post-Reckoning Night Sonata Arctica, and there really isn’t an album from this era that’s more fun than this one.

#5. The Ninth Hour (2016) — Holy shit, Tony Kakko, wake up. The Ninth Hour finds Sonata Arctica’s frontman in a borderline narcoleptic state for much of its runtime, with sleepy vocals seemingly attuned to fit the record’s melancholic mood. While I’m not a huge fan of Tony’s voice on this record, I am a fan of the album itself. It’s generally quite catchy in that cheesy, romantically bittersweet way that made me fall in love with Sonata Arctica in the first place, while packing in some genuine jams (“Fairytale,” “Rise a Night”), moodier pieces (“We Are What We Are,” “Among the Shooting Stars”), and one of my favorite ballads the band has ever written (“Candle Lawns”). “White Pearl, Black Oceans, Pt. II” sweetens the deal, a surprisingly compelling extended epilogue to the original that I find much more engaging than the “Wildfire” sequels. If speed is all you value in Sonata Arctica then you likely won’t get much out of The Ninth Hour, but I personally find it to be one of the only modern records where Kakko and Co. are making the music they want without compromises, and the only one that is bereft of any notable weak points.

#4. Winterheart’s Guild (2003) — Winterheart’s Guild is the most richly atmospheric and darkly romantic record in Sonata Arctica canon. Yet as much as I love it, I’ve never felt comfortable putting it in league with the other three records of the band’s progenitive quadrilogy. It feels at odds with itself, with tracks like the downright morose “Gravenimage” and “Broken” clashing with the bouncy, relatively silly “Champagne Bath” and “Silver Tongue.” This conflict comes to a head with “The Ruins of My Life,” one the most frustrating song in Sonata Arctica history, which begins life as a monumental power metal battle anthem only to kill its own momentum with an utterly perplexing anti-climax¹⁴. Still, there are great power metal jams to be found in “Abandoned, Pleased, Brainwashed, Exploited,” “The Cage,” and “Victoria’s Secret.” Winterheart’s Guild’s dreamy aesthetic helps these tracks (and the record as a whole) stand out in the band’s discography, as does the bass-heavy production featuring guitars so heavy, they’d feel right at home on a doom metal record.

#3. Ecliptica (1999). Ecliptica opens with what might be the best three-song run in all of power metal. There are some other songs on the album as well!

Okay, that’s ludicrously harsh; Ecliptica is a fantastic power metal record, but I would be lying if I said it was perfectly paced. “Replica” and “Letter to Dana” are great ballads that should have been separated to opposite ends of the record. The same goes for the back-to-back noodle attack of “UnOpened” and “Picturing the Past,” especially as these songs are Ecliptica’s weakest cuts.¹⁵ Otherwise, I struggle to think of a power metal debut that boasts as many iconic tracks as Ecliptica, or one that establishes its artist’s aesthetic so soundly and immediately. Sure, Sonata Arctica was largely aping Stratovarius in those early days, but their distinctly frost-glazed and romantic earnestness was fully intact from the opening measures of “Blank File.” Right out the gate, Ecliptica didn’t just match the quality of Sonata Arctica’s primary influence; it surpassed them.

#2. Silence (2001) — Silence is a bit longwinded. “Last Drop Falls” should have been left on the cutting room floor (there’s a reason why “Tallulah” is the Silence ballad that gets live play), and “The Power of One,” for all its brilliance, could stand to lose a few minutes. Editing qualms aside, Silence represents one of the best collections of power metal one is likely to find. “…of Silence” leading into “Weballergy” makes for one of power metal’s most exhilarating album introductions. “Black Sheep” and “Wolf and Raven” are neoclassical shredfests on par with anything [Luca Turilli(/Leone)’s] Rhapsody [of Fire] ever wrote,¹⁶ and four other songs besides (especially “San Sebastian”) provide exemplary cases of double bass-driven power metal. The fact that Silence lightly experiments with the prog elements that would more greatly define Sonata Arctica’s two following albums only makes it that much more engaging and replayable. Though it may be a smidge unwieldy, I absolutely adore Silence.

#1. Reckoning Night (2004) — I fucking hate “Blinded No More.” It’s an awful, plodding mess, devoid of hooks and energy, and a glaring blight on what is otherwise a perfect record. Reckoning Night, stinky second track aside, is the culmination of Sonata Arctica’s efforts at the height of their glory days. Its expected speed-driven numbers universally excel, yet it somehow shines even brighter when the band gets experimental. With theatrically progressive power metal tracks ranging in theme from body horror Pinocchio (“The Boy Who Wanted to Be a Real Puppet”) to societal vengeance via mass arson (“Wildfire”), Reckoning Night is downright weird, and it masterfully interplays that weirdness with the band’s established strengths. There’s also the lengthy and compelling “White Pearl, Black Oceans,” which, while almost hysterically melodramatic, might just be my favorite song in the band’s history. In short, Reckoning Night is a complete realization of everything Sonata Arctica aimed to achieve from the start, and one of my favorite albums of all time.

Twelve

I love Sonata Arctica nearly as much as I am frustrated by Sonata Arctica. Rarely has a band vexed me so, but then, rarely does a band try out seemingly every new idea that comes into their heads the way these guys do, consequences be damned. I joined the ranks of the band’s fans around 2009, shortly after the release of The Days of Grays, and so was able to enjoy the full Sonata Arctica experience in reverse—”meeting” the band as a symphonic prog-esque sort of creation and moving backwards to realize that they had the power metal inside them all along. You might also say that I became a fan at exactly the wrong moment, at a time when the band’s greatest hits were already well behind them. I have mixed feelings on that—that’s what the list below is for. There are Sonata Arctica albums I absolutely love and ones I’d rather hadn’t existed at all, and, now that I think about it, that’s a pretty rare thing to say about a band you like. Nevertheless, I am looking forward to the imminent release of Clear Cold Beyond and will continue to stick by these guys no matter what they come up with next… which, given their history, is a pretty trusting statement.

The Ranking:

#10. Talviyö (2019) — This will be a short entry, mainly because I don’t remember most of Talviyö—when I think on it, I remember an obscenely compressed-sounding thing with guitars that sound like… not guitars. Nothing on this album, whether in the songwriting, the production, or the approach, resonated with me, and so this is a very easy album to simply rank last without putting too much thought into it. This is the only Sonata Arctica album I simply never came back to.

#9. Silence (2001) — I am very excited to torpedo my credibility here: I just don’t like Silence. A lot of the songs blur together, making the hour-long runtime seem long, and the hooks don’t quite land for me. In later years, Sonata Arctica’s talent for making quiet, emotional power ballads feel deeply meaningful, but even “The End of This Chapter” and “Sing in Silence” don’t work for me. The whole album is just too much, and it would take the slowing down that happened on Winterheart’s Guild and Reckoning Night to produce a sound that could convert me into a fan—this zingy weirdness just didn’t do it.

#8. The Ninth Hour (2016) — I found that The Ninth Hour had very little staying power for me, but I did like what I heard from it. Songs like “Life” and “Till Death’s Done Us Apart” feel like an earnest shot at a genuine return to form, and it was invigorating to hear genuinely catchy, moving, and fun melodies from Sonata Arctica in 2016. But when I walked away from the album, I never felt any desire to return to it. It pops up here and there, but even now I’m struggling to just remember how the songs I liked on this album go. When I listen to them they’re good, but across an uneven album, a lack of memorability was the unfortunate death knell that keeps this one low on my list, promising though it may have been.

#7. Pariah’s Child (2014) — Speaking of returning to form, Pariah’s Child was meant to be exactly that, a breath of fresh air after the ultra-weirdness that was Stones Grow Her Name. And it was a breath of fresh air, filled for the most part with strong songs and clever ideas. I’ve heard bad things said about “X Marks the Spot” but it’s an album highlight for me¹⁷ (I wouldn’t attempt to justify “Love,” however). Really, I don’t have much bad to say about Pariah’s Child—just nothing overwhelmingly positive either. It’s a solid album with a solid theme and a handful of really good songs, which should give you an idea of how much I like the rest of the Sonata Arctica discography.

#6. Stones Grow Her Name (2012)¹⁸ — Without question, Stones Grow Her Name was a grower. As a general rule, I love it when bands go earnestly goofy stuff (X Marks the Spot! X Marks the Spot!), but this one took some time to get used to. Even now, I’m debating if I let it climb too high on this list,¹⁹ and I still think of it as “that” album, the one where Sonata Arctica just kind of dove off the deep end to see what happened and published the result anyway. By the time this came out, I was firmly familiar with the rest of the band’s discography, so I was completely thrown by it. But after a while, the earnest corniness of “I Have a Right,” the familiarity of “Losing My Insanity” and “The Day,” and the scope of the “Wildfire” duo won me over. I understand why people don’t like this Stones Grow Her Name, but I can’t agree anymore. It’s not a knockout by any stretch, but its heavier, often-angrier, and more experimental nature works for me, and I love that the band was willing to release it despite the incredible shift from The Days of Grays. Angry Metal Guy’s Law of Diminishing Recordings™ indeed.²⁰

#5. Ecliptica (1999) — It’s amazing that Ecliptica holds up as well as it does, but there’s just something about this enthusiastic “everything and the kitchen sink” approach to power metal that warms my heart to this day. It’s just so fun! “Kingdom for a Heart” is, of course, a classic, and I can randomly get the chorus of “Destruction Preventer” stuck in my head just from seeing the word “preventer” in print. I didn’t love “FullMoon” as much as everyone else seems to have, but it’s another great example of the young Sonata Arctica throwing themselves on the CD and striking gold high-quality silver. A lot of good debuts in this style have that x factor, that clear sense of passion and excitement and love for what they’re doing and for that, Ecliptica can always put a smile on my face.

#4. Winterheart’s Guild (2003) — Winterheart’s Guild is a beautiful album. It is such a leap from Ecliptica and Silence, but it’s the album I associate most with modern-day Sonata Arctica; when I think about that sound, I think about this album. What Winteheart’s Guild does well is that it balances light and dark themes expertly, while finally, finally allowing the keyboard to shine as the band’s secret weapon. Songs like “Victoria’s Secret” are embedded in the band’s legacy for good reason. I love the speedy touches—”The Ruins of My Life” still sounds like a young power metal band finding their feet—but with touches of maturity that would dominate the following albums. Really, that’s what I like so much about Sonata Arctica on Winterheart’s Guild, you can hear them begin to mature as a band, but that early enthusiasm is still there in a way that they don’t quite repeat again.

#3. Unia (2007) — I’ve never understood why so many people dislike this album. Maybe it’s a question of expectation, and I was lucky enough to discover the band after Reckoning Night? Either way—Unia is awesome. From the first few seconds of “In Black and White” you know what you’re getting here—dark, heavy, angry Sonata Arctica, and none of their albums since have been quite so dark. I love the guitar tone, Kakko’s impassioned singing, and even the lyrics. It’s not often you say that about a Sonata Arctica album, but the thought is evident in songs like “Caleb” and “The Vice,” both in composition and storytelling. It’s hard to adequately explain what it is about Unia’s aesthetic that appeals to me so strongly, but I’ve always found it to be a solid, compelling, heavy album from start to finish.

#2. The Days of Grays (2009) — The Days of Grays made a real run for #1 on this list, and the fact that it was my introduction to Sonata Arctica certainly helped its case. By dialing back on the heaviness from Unia and focusing more on melody, this album forged a memorable identity at a time when the band’s own must have felt a little uncertain. Its real triumph, however, is the spotlight it shines on what has always been, to me, Sonata Arctica’s greatest strength: Tony Kakko’s singing. Songs like “The Dead Skin” and “Juliet” would be almost typical played by most bands writing symphonic power or progressive metal, but the way Kakko’s voice takes you through these songs is almost magical. There are nods to the band’s power metal roots in “Flag in the Ground,” to the band’s innate weirdness in “The Truth Is out There,” and it’s all tied together by an exceptional use of darker themes, vocal melody, and orchestration. Every new album I hope will be a call back to this one, and every time The Days of Grays continues to stand—nearly—alone.

#1. Reckoning Night (2004) — I feel like I’ve written a few controversial opinions since I sat down to put this section together. I also feel I am finally returning to the fold when I say that Reckoning Night is a triumph of an album, and Sonata Arctica’s best. Looking back, it really should be no surprise that this was the predecessor to Unia, but it was also a logical progression from Winterheart’s Guild, upping the heaviness and symphonies while staying reasonably rooted in the band’s power metal… roots. The result is songs like “Ain’t Your Fairtyale,” a terrific power metal tune, “Don’t Say a Word,” a phenomenal experiment in more progressive power metal, and “White Pearl, Black Oceans…”, an emotional behemoth that looms over the album, and, to some extent, the rest of the band’s career. Kakko is again the star; his choral work is seldom better than in this album, and the complement of keys, solos, and riffs that know when to prop him up and when to excel on their own. It’s not a perfect album—none of Sonata Arctica’s are—but it’s the closest they’ve come and has always been a reliable collection, regardless of occasion or mood.

The post AMG Goes Ranking: Sonata Arctica appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Part I opens with a particularly cheesy narrative similar to that on Manowar’s “Blood of the Kings” with that same faux-Shakespearean accent metal bands feel compelled to use. Thankfully this is forgotten once “The Black Knight” takes flight in vintage Vanden Plas style with stellar vocals by Andy Kuntz backed by crunchy riffs and tasteful harmonies. This is a classic example of their sound – light on the in-your-face prog tendencies, but strong on melody and hooks with shifting moods and tempos that never feel convoluted. It’s surprisingly easy to digest and enjoy and that’s always been their secret weapon. The same can be said of follow up “Godmaker” with its big vocal hooks and soaring chorus built to accentuate Andy’s clear, smooth vocals. There’s more than a little modern Threshold in their style and it works well for them.

Standout moments also include the beautifully moody excursions of “New Vampyre” where the band channels the better angels of Threshold and Symphony X without losing grip on what makes them who they are. The weeping guitar-work really hits home, and the song’s melancholia is nicely offset by some dexterous instrumentation on the song’s back-end. “Soul Alliance” is also solid with a catchy chorus and a slow build to a strong finish.

There are no bad songs, but some do feel rather languid and there’s an overall energy deficiency which makes the album feel like it’s dragging after a while. The use of short musical interludes like “Misery Affection Prelude” and the choral-orientated, Nightwish-like “A Ghost Requiem” are well-executed but feel like unnecessary fluff, especially with choral segments popping up elsewhere on the album. Likewise, there’s a tendency to dilute good songs by stretching them out too long as with “The King and the Children of Lost World,” which easily could have been trimmed by a minute or two. “Misery Affection” is a soft duet between Andy and Julia Steingass and though it’s quite pretty, it comes across as a tad dull, though it grows with repeat listens.

The key to Vanden Plas’ appeal for me has always been the powerful vocals of Andy Kuntz, and he delivers in spades across the entire album. He has a rich, engaging voice and knows how to use it maximum advantage. He picks his spots to hit high notes and possesses a natural flair for dramatic phrasing. Without his pipes, this material would be far less impactful and he’s definitely the key to their sound. Stephan Lill is a gifted guitarist who can wank with the best, but generally opts for an understated approach. His solos aren’t the million note spectacles of some progsters, but they’re often more emotional, colorful and meaningful. He usually shares the pyrotechnics with keyboardist Gunter Werno and sometimes steps aside entirely in his favor, and that’s commendable. The entire band shines throughout Pt. I and manage to do what Dream Theater is no longer capable of – writing songs with prog elements that remain contained and constrained.

Pt. I is an enjoyable, interesting album and while more up-tempo, aggressive moments would have made a big difference, it’s still high-quality prog-power with loads of slick musicality to marinate in. That’s what we’ve come to expect from Vanden Plas and they delivered yet again.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3

Chronicles of the Immortals: Netherworld Pt. II

Part II is a continuation of the concepts laid out in its predecessor, but takes a much more ambitious approach. While I enjoyed most of what Pt. I had to offer, the overall lack of energy did wear on me. Pt. II corrects the energy deficit with heavier, more dynamic writing, but it seems in the year-long interval since the first installment, they lost the ability to self-edit their compositions, and this causes a new set of issues.

Things certainly begin well with the very Kamelot-esque symphonic power of opener “In My Universe.” It’s big, bombastic and symphonic, but remains accessible and features an effective, if not overly restrained chorus. I couldn’t shake the feeling there should be more pop in said chorus, but Andy’s vocals insure success despite a segment that inexplicably reminds me of Quiet Riot’s “Mental Health.” “Godmaker’s Temptation” is even better, with a slick build toward a big payoff at chorus time and a huge Tad Morose vibe. The positive momentum keeps rolling on “Stone Roses Edge” which is much more aggressive and urgent in delivery. Heavy, fist-pumping riffs expertly blend with a great performance from Andy and making it all the better, there’s a strong Fall of the Leafe influence, which I love. This song showcases everything I love about the band in one tasty soundbite and it’s the best of the whole Netherworld saga.

Then things get more convoluted and obscure as the band explores far proggier and less accessible soundscapes on the thirteen minute “Blood of Eden.” It’s actually a very good song with some standout moments (Andy’s much higher than usual vocals shine brightly), but it’s guilty of overstaying it’s welcome when it could have ended at several points (technically known as Lord of the Rings Syndrome). They course-correct with the very linear “Monster” which sports a simple but effective chorus and introduces harsh vocals to shake things up, but this too runs about two minutes too long.

The remainder of Pt. II is a mixed bag. While “Diabolica Comedia” is direct and enjoyable, “Where Have the Children Gone” is a flat, symphonic-laden ballad that grinds things to a halt. It’s the kind of song you want to like more, but don’t and it’s the only skippable track I can recall in recent Plas history. “The Last Fight” is the anthemic powerhouse Pt. I desperately needed and it’s quite gripping, but closer “Circle of the Devil” gets bogged down in a host of overwrought emotions and choral masturbation as it limps to an overdue finish.

At a very bloated hour-and-five minutes, Pt. II partially collapses under the weight of its pretensions. Almost every song could be edited down and be better for it, and by the time the last two tracks arrive, the fact each exceeds seven minutes is the final kick in the teeth for anyone with even a mild case of ADHD. There’s a feeling the band tried too hard on this one, getting bogged down on the size and scope of the project instead of just crafting the best material they could.

All criticism aside, even when off their A game, Vanden Plas is still a formidable beast and there are several great songs here along with a lot of good music. If you have a patient temperament and time to spare, Pt. II may be exactly the prog-power you need to wile away the small hours. Definitely worth investigation, at least for cherry picking purposes, but Pt. I gets the nod for the more consistent album. Here’s hoping they dial things back for Pt. III.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Frontiers Records
Websites: vandenplas.de | facebook.com/VandenPlasOfficial
Releases Worldwide: November 6th, 2015

The post Vanden Plas – Chronicles of the Immortals: Netherworld Parts I and II appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Influences range from the feedback drenched wallop of The Melvins, to the blackened attitude of Darkthrone, and boozy rock ‘n’ roll swagger of classic Motorhead without blatantly aping either band. Some of the riffs, melodies and raspier vocals are touched by black metal, yet overall Mantar’s sound is undoubtedly rooted in sludge and their own riff-driven form of rollicking extreme rock. Apparently Mantar detest the term sludge being applied to their music, but when cranking the likes of the poisonous dirge of “White Nights” or the teeth-gnashing intensity of opener “Spit,” such a term, however generic it may be, certainly fits Mantar’s profile.

As directly straightforward as Mantar’s motives appear to be, perhaps the most impressive aspect of their uncompromising formula is how dynamic and varied the songwriting truly is. Tempos are regularly tweaked, sneaky melodies seep through the band’s tough, hard-hitting exterior, while there’s an absolute abundance of top shelf riffs, surly grooves and catchy vocal hooks to latch onto. The songs are catchy, well-written and easily distinguishable from each other, covering ample territory without deviating far from their signature style.

The catchy, mid-tempo clip of “Astral Kannibal” is one of the most addictive songs I listened to all year, while “The Stoning” has an irresistible up-tempo gallop that successfully changes the pace once more. Hanno’s varied guitar work easily compensates for the lack of bass or second guitar and his venomous, semi-decipherable snarl is a fittingly imperfect accompaniment to the band’s hefty aural assault. Erinc’s drumming is yet another strong element to Death By Burning, whether locking into a concrete groove, unleashing an occasional blast section or embellishing his aggressive playing with more subtle nuances.

Death By Burning has a visceral in-your-face production that captures the raw aesthetics of the material well. The guitars and drums come through clear and punchy, and despite a measly dynamic range, hovering around a DR 4 or 5, I find it less bothersome than most albums with such squashed dynamics. Respectable as this self-produced recording is, I would like to see the band explore outside producers to help develop their sound on future releases. Death By Burning was released by Svart Records early in 2014 and is available in physical formats and as a digital download on Mantar’s Bandcamp page. Don’t miss one of 2014’s unsung gems.

Tracks to Check: “Astral Kannibal,” “Spit,” “The Huntsmen”

The post Things You Might Have Missed 2014: Mantar – Death By Burning appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Despite bearing stylistic similarities to those New Englanders (and, I’m sure, plenty of hardcore acts that I’m not hip enough to know about), Idylls hail from the far away land of Brisbane, Australia. The quartet formed in 2009 and released their debut Farewell All Joy in 2012. Prayer for Terrene is their newest record after 2013’s Indian Circle EP. It’s also their most outright insane. I know adjectives like “abrasive,” “pissed-off,” and “noisy” are hardly convincing to those not fond of this stuff, but Idylls are different for two important reasons: one, they actually have interesting ideas; and two, they have a fucking saxophone player.

It’s there on the first and longest track, the near-seven minute “Lied To.” After the initial cacophony morphs into a lurching chug that feels catchy if only because of how discernable it sounds, brassy saxophone wails begin weaving distraught melodies through the dissonance. Soon things unravel into an unsorted heap of blasting crash cymbals, air-siren guitar wails, and the high-register, self-mutilating screams of vocalist Agador Spartacus. Idylls claim Prayer was recorded live to tape, and it certainly sounds that way: the instrumental outro of “Lied To,” “Fagged Out On The Beach,” showcases the natural, freehanded drumming and prominent, slinky bass that recurs throughout Prayer, while straight ahead grinders “Sow Control” and “Animal Test” tear through furious staccato riffing that recall a quicker, more unhinged Napalm Death, with a raw passion and looseness that’s unique (even for a hardcore band) in today’s norm of click tracks and Pro Tools.

The production perfectly complements the insanity, clearly presenting each disparate element while nicely balancing the searing treble and rumbling low-end. The DR of 6 isn’t the highest, but it’s hardcore – it’s supposed to hit you like a brick. There’s more than just bludgeoning and broken bottles, though. “PCP Crazy” is the aptly-named aftermath of a five-day drug binge, forsaking aggression for a marching drumbeat with a wacky bassline and drugged-out Sex Pistols caterwauls. Perhaps the catchiest moment is the bizarre surf-rock-esque rhythm break on “Crashing Boar,” even more startling after the preceding bout of blinding Discordance Axis riffing. But it’s when the saxophone shines that things really get cool, as when it subs in for guitars during parts of “Animal Test” and “Denigrating In the Tanks,” or blows a spazzed-out solo in the final seconds of closer “Terraform.”

For another band this might all be a confused mess – here, the craziness just works. Idylls, apparently, are disgusted with the world, angered by what they see around them, and frustrated to the point of insanity by their powerlessness to do anything about it. Take the final minutes of the opener, when the band seem stuck endlessly ruminating over some past injustice. Time signatures and scales get thrown out the window for disharmonic chord-bashing as Agador repeatedly screams “Lied to! Lied to! Lied to!” Moments like these keep me coming back and set Prayer apart as one of those great records that get better with each listen. It’s not pretty, but don’t let first impressions put you off – this is so much more than just noise.

Tracks to check: “Lied To,” “Animal Test,” and “Crashing Boar”

The post Things You Might Have Missed 2014: Idylls – Prayer for Terrene appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Beyond the Curse of Death isn’t a game changing release by any means, but it’s a suitably rocking slab of gnarled Swedish death, which cuts an imposing figure above the bulk of bands pedaling this unashamedly retro style. Moliti’s first foray under the Sentience moniker finds the multi-skilled musician handling all the instruments on the recording (vocals, guitars, bass, keyboards and drum programming) as well as self producing the demo. Quite the impressive feat considering how tightly played and well written the three songs on this impressive debut are. Mining familiar tropes immortalized by the likes of Carnage, Entombed and Dismember during the late 80s/early 90s, Sentience manages to breathe much needed fresh air into the stagnating corpse of this incredibly overplayed and often derivative old school formula. And it’s not through any earth shattering innovation. Instead Moliti molds his passion for the style into his own vision, writing fresh and interesting riffs and melodies without shamelessly ripping off the legends he is clearly indebted to.

Cutting to the chase with the short and brutal attack of the title track, Sentience compile a compelling case from the outset through a rather simple and catchy battering of thrashy death metal chops, unbridled aggression and a delightfully shredding solo. It’s fast stabbing fury that hits a real sweet spot despite it’s simplistic structure. Thankfully the writing expands into more dynamic territory as “Dusk” and “Beneath a Bleeding Moon” both ooze malevolence and weave sinister grooves, an abundance of killer riffs, and tasteful keyboard melodies into the otherwise rabid assault of old school goodness.

Beyond the Curse of Death was mixed by Moliti and mastered by none other than Dan Swanö and comes equipped with the usual sonic trimmings associated with the style. The guitar tone has that customary rusted chainsaw tone and is suitably crunchy, while the programmed drums actually feature a bit of low end and sound pleasingly natural, if slightly one-dimensional in execution. By Swanö standards the recording isn’t as dynamic as it could be, measuring a disappointing DR 7, so hopefully he stays on deck for a full length and irons out the minor issues for a more dynamic old school experience.

Available as a name your price download on Bandcamp there’s little reason for fans of this beloved style to not jump in and give this promising release a fair shake. Moliti has already made decisive moves to push Sentience forward by fleshing out his line-up into a fully fledged band and promising a debut full length in 2015. Fingers crossed he can deliver on the promise shown here.

Tracks to Check: “Dusk” and “Beneath a Bleeding Moon”

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So why is Timelessness so good? Everything.

Immediately obvious is Serdce’s willingness to experiment and unabashed progginess – “Into Shambhala” is an entirely non-brutal, amorphous and beautiful saxophone-lead introduction to a subsequent hour of alternatingly breathtaking and neckbreaking forays into prog-death drawing from Cynic, Dream Theater, and even The Mars Volta. August company indeed, and Serdce makes elbow contact with them proudly. Timelessness is not the kind of casual, listenable “prog” album with manageable songs and reigned-in solos that I tend to like. Almost every song runs over six minutes and sports more noodling than a plate of Pad Thai; it’s involved, bombastic, dramatic and clearly an album rather than a collection of songs. Yet every song still makes its impact and rarely succumbs to the overindulgence of Serdce’s influences.

Take, for instance “Last Faith,” which opens with melancholic piano and strings under Nik Goroshko’s beautiful crooning and then swings into full-scale Cynic death riffs and swaggering Dream Theater style fretboard grooming. Before the song’s halfway mark, Serdce has already spit out enough material for three different songs and show no signs of stopping. Why praise this? Well, because it’s good. Serdce may be committing the sin of self-indulgence, but it’s a victimless crime because every idea is effective enough to carry the song for as long as it needs to. Melodies are beautiful, especially those in “Loss of Feelings or Feelings of Loss” (when they’re not playing “Chocolate Rain”) and the music-box intro of “Omens.” And when the songs get heavy, Timelessness offers up some of the best ’90s prog-death riffs since, well, the ’90s. “Quasar” sports incredible riffs and groovy basslines reminiscent of Focus without ever feeling too derivative, and “The Sixth Sense” pairs some of the album’s heaviest and darkest riffing with characteristically strange melodies and a very memorable solo.

For all of its excellence, Timelessness still can’t shake some of the deficiencies of its prog roots. The songs flow together very well, but at the cost of sounding a bit abrupt when considered alone, and at over an hour long and full of emotional peaks and valleys, it’s an album you have to set aside time and suspension of disbelief to listen to. The songs do occasionally wander, but for the most part always end well and follow a logical progression across the span of the album, and even when Serdce stray into dramatics or questionable prog, they always perform well enough to back it up.

Timelessness is an easy release to overlook and takes a while to fully appreciate, but it’s well worth the time for metalheads, even the ones that aren’t prog-nerds. It can’t escape itself, but then again, it has no pressing need to do so. The fact that Serdce have made a 90’s prog metal album that’s uniformly enjoyable almost fifteen years after the fact is impressive enough, but even more laudable is that Timelessness succeeds without relying on throwbacks, technicality, or self-indulgence as a crutch. In a year where all three of those have been lurking around every corner, Timelessness is a a breath of fresh air.

Tracks to check: “Omens,” “Last Faith,” “Sixth Sense”

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As we’ve learned in 2014, even ostensibly melodic bands are starting to discover that playing with dissonance, discomforting tones and horror are ways that make records feel heavy again. White Empress walks a blood-slicked balancing beam between the dissonant, the melodic and the haunting, which uses Mary’s vocal range to perfect effect. It’s probably best to call what White Empress does melodic black metal, but I’m not sure that entirely does justice to the sound. Rise of the Empress has a thrashy or melodeath drive, while backed up by symphonic soundscapes that do evoke a Cradle of Filth feel at times.

The Rise of the Empress succeeds by understanding that its success will not come from a good image or connections to previously successful bands. The heart of this record is as it should be: machine gun kicks and driven riffs with Mary’s tortured screams layered over them. The use of clean vocals and orchestrations are sides, not the main course. Nothing here is too slick or catchy, while it’s still entertaining and palatable (Dodecahedron this ain’t). This is best exemplified by Mary’s clean vocal lines, which are never pop melodies, but instead create a sense of atmosphere. Where a “poppy” chorus could break the mood in “The Congregation,” Zimmer’s alto (er, possibly baritone…) tones weave a more unsettling feeling. In “Erased and Rewritten,” she breaks in with moments of melody, majesty and power, but only briefly before reverting to her shredding screams. “The Ecstatic and the Sorrow” features the most lush of the melodic work, and even rocks out something that borders on a NWoBHM guitar harmony piece; but these don’t take subtract from a driven, blackened core.

All-in-all White Empress’ début record is a cool disc that shouldn’t be given a miss. The production sounds good, with unique guitar tone, and beautifully layered and balanced keys and soundscapes that never drench the mix. I was particularly pleased to note that Rise of the Empress is DR 10 with absolutely no fanfare; it’s dynamic metal with an unusual—almost claustrophobic—tone. As a consequence of the dynamic mix, though, the drums of Zac Morris sound big, full and a little trashy, and Chela Harper’s bass is fat, anchoring down the rhythm section tastefully. The Rise of the Empress ends up sounding balanced and well-oiled and the music romps through in under 45 minutes, making it ready for a re-listen in no time.

Sorry we didn’t give the Empress her due when this dropped, but nothing is stopping you from checking it out now. Mea Culpa.

Songs to Check: ”The Congregation,” “Sven’s Tower,” and “The Ecstatic and the Sorrow”

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Angra

But I’m gonna be frank here: instability isn’t necessary a problem in this case. I am not a fan of older Angra, and while I’ve never looked down my nose at them as I do with bands containing Jørn Lande, they have long suffered from a bad case of vocalistitis: the condition of being a talented band ruined by a (frequently douchey) singer that makes the music hard to enjoy¹. Regardless of whether or not you agree with my dislike of previous singers Matos and Falaschi, it’s tough not to admit that it’s been a bit of a rocky ride for these Brazilian power-mongers and yet Secret Garden sounds very good; focused, tight, diverse and fun.

Secret Garden doesn’t start out sounding like it should be a wandering into anything other than run-of-the-mill power metal circa 2008 with its opening strains. Opener “Newborn Me” treads dangerously near to Amaranthe and Stratovarius’ terrible tonality before Fabio jumps in. And while the song is a pretty good power opener, what kept me listening was the noodly breakdown around 3 minutes, followed by a truly inspired acoustic solo with Spanish guitar influences. On follow-up “Black Heartened Soul,” Secret Garden really takes off with its choral introduction, and Iron Maiden á la Helloween twin leads. Even later in the record when Secret Garden backs into its most “predictable” of straight power metal tracks—such as “Perfect Symmetry” or the chunky and mid-paced “Upper Levels”—the record shines with vigor and beauty.

But Secret Garden shines because it is anything but predictable or straight. First, while Fabio is Angra’s primary vocalist in 2015, Simone Simons (Epica) steps in admirably on the title track, carrying the moody melodies and pseudo-swing admirably on her silky voice. And while Simons sounds great, she’s not even the best guest vocalist on the record. Doro Pesch absolutely crushes the Eurovision ready “Crushing Room,” where she does a duet with Rafael Bittencourt. This song is not only masterfully written, with an immensely hooky chorus, but the vocal performances are absolutely lights out. In fact, no disrespect meant to Fabio, Rafael nearly steals the show with his vocals on Secret Garden. The man has a truly epic metal voice evoking Dan Swanö’s best of times, and his performances on the aforementioned “Crushing Room,” “Violet Sky” and the final track “Silent Call” add a dimension to Secret Garden that has been missing from the previous Angra records I’ve heard.

Musically, too, Secret Garden runs the gamut of styles from straight, double-bass driven power metal, to Yes and Rushesque prog and Spanish guitar solo work—and takes a breather in the middle of the record to rock out a great cover of The Police’s “Synchronicity II.” The use of ‘tribal’ drumming styles makes even the more traditional songs pop with energy, too, leaning on a sound that Angra hasn’t used a lot on past records. While the musicianship among power metal bands is ridiculous as a rule, the combination of an ensemble approach to vocal duties, and some heavy, emotional writing (“Crushing Room” and “Silent Call”), makes for a memorable listening experience. Secret Garden isn’t just well-performed, the songwriting is poignant and heavy and loaded with drama. And, surprisingly enough, Angra manages to do all this without sounding cheesy or overblown. Counter intuitively, Fabio’s vocal performance on Secret Garden may be simply one of the best he’s ever done. Rhapsody [of Fire]’s own master of melodrama nails home a remarkably nuanced (if extremely well enunciated) performance on “Storm of Emotions,” and his duet with Bittencourt on that track is immense—and that’s not a fluke, but rather the rule.

The big drawback to Secret Garden, for me anyway, is really the tonality of the whole record. Secret Garden is a modern power metal record, and that means that it has that pristine (some might say sterile), condensed tonality that Sweden and Devin Townsend have foisted on an unsuspecting and innocent world. The guitars at the beginning of “Final Light” and “Newborn Me” reek of the plastic sound of Sonic Syndicate and Deadlock and while it’s heavy, I think there are other ways of producing this music (see: Turisas). Further, the industry standard DR6 production on Secret Garden is masterfully handled by Herr Bogren out of Örebro’s Fascination Street Studios, but the use of non-standard percussion instruments and classical guitars leaves a little bit to be desired in terms of the breadth and depth of the dynamics.

Even with these sonic drawbacks, though, I am genuinely enthusiastic about Secret Garden. Angra sound better to me in 2015 than they’ve sounded ever before, and they’ve made a lot of good decisions in recent years that seem to be paying off. While Secret Garden never pushes into truly novel territory, it executes Angra’s brand of power/prog with alacrity and sounds truly inspired. From hardship often arises great artistic production and this album is just one more piece of totally non-verifiable statistical noise that confirms my bias that this is an undeniable truth. Regardless of where it comes from, Secret Garden is gonna get a ton of play in Casa de Angry Metal Guy this year.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format: 320 kb/s mp3 [CBR]
Label: EarMusic
Websites: angra.net | facebook.com/angraofficialpage
Release Dates: EU: 2015.01.16/19 | UK: 2015.02.02 | NA: 01.20.2015 [digitally]

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