Experimental Black Metal from Finland, with members of Rotten Moon, Absolute Key, Kêres, Rahu, Venus Star...
After nearly 20 years working together in Circle of Ouroborus, and seemingly without any input or help from others, Atvar and Antti Klemi continue to release work of consistent quality and idiosyncratic style. Incredibly "Lumi Vaientaa Kysymykset" (in English, "Snow Silences Questions") is the duo's 23rd album yet for all I know it's as infused with as much power, aggression, emotion and feeling as if it had been CoO's first album. The album follows recent full-length recordings "Thurisa" and "Auatala" in its mix of blackened post-punk and hypnotic dreamy shoegaze elements but takes a detour into dark and sometimes doomy territory, all the while retaining familiar CoO trademarks like Klemi's distinctive vocal style, located somewhere in the far distance on the edge of the music, as though dwelling on the border between our universe and another strange dimension, and shouting at us from that region like a prophet warning of the oncoming apocalypse. Atvar introduces organ on some tracks which give them a very dark Gothic air, and the music sometimes dives into long passages of guitar melodies with a bristly noise edge combined with clean metallic tones that bring the tracks close to dark urban blues psychedelia of a deeply melancholy bent.
Opener "Jaata pohjaan asti" ("Divide to the bottom") is a powerful song that sets the tone and standard for the rest of the album to follow: it is a long song (nearly eight minutes) and it does meander a bit but Klemi's angry vocals and the bristly noise bass lines keep the guitar melancholy in check. The muscular riffs are awesome to behold, and serious competition for our attention is coming from the caustic bass melodies so all through this song some very tasty hooks and motifs will keep listeners enthralled to the end. "Kukaan ei niittanyt tata viljaa" ("Nobody reaped that grain") starts with a tough gritty blackened rock melody that ends up more or less anchoring much of the song while Klemi rants and rages behind a filter that renders his voice otherworldly. The big surprise is when organ is introduced about halfway through and the song becomes a rich psychedelic Goth doom creature with a different mood and rhythm. All of a sudden, we find ourselves in a completely different universe with this song, as if it's taken us on a shamanic journey through various filters that turn out to be wormholes through the cosmos.
"Lankeemus" has a cleaner sound though it's no less brooding and sad than the others – indeed, the darkness behind the music seems to yawn much larger and the desolation is closer as a result. The piercing guitar tones, the forlorn organ behind them, Klemi's angry (or perhaps anguished) declamations and the alienation that hangs over the song – what is not to love about this song? The only problem is that it follows other equally or more powerful tracks on an album lasting just short of 35 minutes. Like those other songs, "Lankeemus" does not repeat its melodies very much and the song brings in new elements almost right up to the end. Closing track "Peilikuva" ("Mirror Image") has a brooding, introspective quality in its almost mediaeval folk guitar melodies mixed with faster and urgent blackened post-punk passages.
The whole album has a very sombre, depressive air and I daresay this very depressive mood will be revisited again and again on future CoO recordings, if perhaps not the next full-length. The music here takes on a very steely, sinister edge and the organ adds to the impression of a spirit of malevolence waking up within the music's textures, tones and melodies. Klemi's vocals fight a losing battle against the gritty guitar noise and the organ tones. In all songs there are moments of quite intense emotion and resigned sadness, and these are often the best moments of the album – the gloominess can be so heavy, you can actually touch it, and it is also enhanced by long meandering lead guitar tones or more jagged bass droning backed by the drums. A very sad, depressed and desolate beauty, steeped in darkness and perhaps the bleakness of post-modern urban society in Finland and elsewhere, often comes out of such deeply felt moments.
Frustratingly there are just four (though long) tracks on this album and when "Peilikuva" finishes, you can find yourself left high and dry (well mentally) off a cliff edge in the film running behind your closed eyelids. If "Lumi Vaientaa Kysymykset" represents the direction CoO is going in, then I hope we don't have to wait too long for another full-length gem of blackened doom experimental / avantgarde rock from the duo.
Sample: youtube.com/watch?v=-sq1mVnDBls
