Another near perfect melody opens "A Thousand Rivers," but this time it's a slow symphony with acoustic begining, descending keyboards and echoing voices, with a brief dialogue in the middle: "Listen carefully to the sound of an evening breeze, and the sound of a thousands rivers, struggling towards the sea." "But all is so dead and silent." "Yes, this is the way it's got to be" — before a funeral church-like keyboard ending. "Time won't sweep away, our deepest scars of memories. It will carry them along eternally..."
"I have deserved all tongues to speak their bitterness over me" perfectly describes the feeling of "Mistress Tears," another up-tempo song with countless layers of orchestration, and "Carven" goes even more intense with savage keyboards, wailing screams and lunatic drumming, slightly slowing down for more shivery female vocals and ending with a very convicting proclamation: "As long as there is life, there is hope for an end!"
"Spire" is an acoustic miniature with dim, echoing guitar and Keltziva's singing in Norwegian, seemingly without a beginning or end, and probably could have been much longer. It is simply tasteful, a pensive pause before the majesty that is "In Remembrance of a Shroud." From the ominous beginning, the four-minute song sums up everything that has been heard on the previous ones, reaching its peak with a blastbeat and everything around it becoming a blur through a shift in the mix, cutting out some (higher) frequencies and warping the others.
The last, eighth track, "Splendid Horror," saw Dismal Euphony using a drum machine playing a simple, sharp, heartbeat rhythm. At the time it was probably blasphemous to do so, but today it still sounds good, and the screams and raw guitars around it haven't been quite matched ever since. But Autumn Leaves... does not end here. Wait a couple of minutes and you are rewarded with a hidden seven-minute track, with two continuous, interacting guitars playing a simple waltz-like melody. And through more sound wizardry, more whispers, layers and more warping it's waltzing you to the end of the world.
After Autumn Leaves - The Rebellion of Tides, Dismal Euphony signed for Nuclear Blast, changed some members (including the singer) and tried to be more straightforward and accessible on All Little Devils, released in 1999. But most of the magic was gone, and by the time they released a few other albums everyone seemed to have lost that little interest they had in the group, and eventually Dismal Euphony split up. But the first two albums remain as an epitaph to a great, yet largely unknown band, and especially Autumn Leaves... feels like remembering someone dear, someone who passed away a long time ago. They just don't make them like this any more. Yes, very often you will hear a band calling themselves "emotional," "tragic," "melancholic," "romantic"; albums described as "sonic journeys" or "transcendental." You do get albums sounding as good, but often ending up sounding boring for the same reason. And how many bands nowadays feature male and female vocals combined, as some gimmick, thinking that it would add them another dimension? Back in 1997, Norway's Dismal Euphony weren't talking about all of this. They just did it. Now a long gone band (in the case of overdosed keyboard player Elin Overskott — literally), Dismal Euphony appeared in 1995 and recorded their debut, Soria Moria Slott, in 1996. Though it had a raw Norwegian black metal sound, it was an unique combination of cold guitars, subliminal synth, harsh screams and angelic vocals, striking during every second, and surpassing similar-sounding albums like Old Man's Child's Born of the Flickering or Dimmu Borgir's Stormblast. The young band's talent and originality were obvious, but the album went unnoticed, partly because in those days great albums seemed to be coming from everywhere. But more beauty was yet to come. Those who have heard Autumn Leaves - The Rebellion of Tides often say that it sounds like Dismal Euphony had spent two years in studio, such was the attention to sound and detail. Throughout the whole 45 minutes of it, there is hardly a song without an identity of its own, but hearing them in the context of the whole album, they make even more sense, and Autumn Leaves... sounds perfectly natural. And it's not just the songwriting, the mood and the sound — the lyrics, a component often ignored, are a testimony to how much you can say with simple words. You just have to have something to say in the first place. The piano in the beginning is deceptive — the simple, sad melody could go on forever, or turn into an overly long doom metal song, and it would still be OK. But the band enters proving that they are still black metal, first with just two bass drums and Ole Helgesen's dry, crackling, deep singing, only to be joined by bombastic (no, not in a Nightwish way) keyboards and Keltziva's voice. Now, this voice was one of a kind — this was a woman who could really sing, and wasn't ashamed to show emotions or sing out loud even when her voice was on the verge of falling apart. And looking at her picture on the disc, and on the back cover... well, you can forget about Lacuna Coil, Tristania, Theatre of Tragedy and similar excuses for having female pin-up singers. And it's a constant change from then on. The music often stops to take a (dying) breath, pausing for a clean guitar moment and collapsing, corrosive, blurry sound effects. The guitars take over the piano melody and carry it into oblivion... "For no man of mortal shell could know, where or when this planet existed..."
"Simply Dead" features some of the most poisonous choir screams ever, even faster bass drums and Keltziva's unbelievable voice simultaneously crying and singing like a woman possessed. Small wonder that the screams demand "Show me a hidden path to the source of wisdom... You are the rose on my grave." It's the most straightforward song on the album but the most overwhelmingly furious one as well.
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