In today’s underground, where perceived honesty and “trueness” are of the utmost importance to many, a new black metal band formed by guys that had done most of their time in hardcore and post-metal acts is likely to trigger the defenses of the more conservative headbanger. That’s Belgium’s Wiegedood, who count among their ranks veterans from the likes as Rise and Fall, Oathbreaker, and Amenra; not exactly an inspiring list to regulars of the NWN forums.
Metalheads are often a harsh, close-minded group of trogs. We know this; I’m guilty as well. We also know that this thing we call heavy metal is a vast network of mysterious passages, and surprises lurk around every corner for those with an inquisitive mind.
Wiegedood’s debut, De Doden Hebben Het Goed, is one such surprise. Even yours truly, a guy that fancies himself rather open-minded, went into this album with a touch of skepticism, particularly when the press release picked a rather convenient name drop in Wolves in the Throne Room. But once the album starts, the deftness and refinement come through. Regardless of their past musical endeavors, these boys just plain get it.
And they obviously have an understanding of their abilities in this terrain. Original, this album is not, but that is perhaps the greatest key to its success. By applying their obvious musical talents to a new style and not overreaching, they were able to deliver a smart, efficient, and filler-free 38-minute debut.
While the WITTR comparison is not completely inaccurate, it is also far from the best reference point. Typically, Wiegedood is playing something almost directly in between the “sea shanty” black metal of earlier Drudkh and the epic, aggressive work of Wodenthrone, and they do justice to both. Blasts are common, but not brutal, while tremolo lines sometimes become extremely dissonant without losing the thread of beautiful melody that is of utmost importance to these tracks. At times barren and sorrowful, and other times complex and intertwining, it is through melody that Wiegedood truly shines.
Best of all, the album gets continually better as it goes along. Opener “Svanesang” is pleasant enough, but not exactly gripping. Thankfully, little things like phrase-ending “hooks” in “Kwaad Bloed” and extra Drudkhian stretches of sound in the title track help the album’s claws sink in deeper with each passing second. It all reaches its peak during the finale of closer “Onder Gaan,” a passage of such chilling resolution that reaches the level of almost anything by Wiegedood’s most apparent influences. Really, it’s that good.
Look, I’m a selfish person. I don’t want the humans that make up Wiegedood to spend time with their other, better-established bands, but instead to realize the full potential of what they’re doing here. If they could match the magic of that finale for a full album, the results would be nothing short of breathtaking. That is the power of this kind of music—a lack of originality can be overcome by a mastery of the elements, particularly melody. Wiegedood seem to have that mastery, but are only wetting their feet at present time. Let’s hope they take the plunge.
