The mind of the hopelessly obsessive music fan cannot help but search for hidden connections, shared trajectories, the limnal algebra of an ever-expanding dendritic web. For our current purposes, two of Germany’s most deliberately reverent black metal bands cut a curiously parallel arc through the dark night of the ears. Secrets of the Moon and Dark Fortress both emerged with wound-centric albums in 2004 (Carved in Stigmata Wounds and Stab Wounds, respectively) that cast a withering glance backward at their key-laden Grieghallowed early efforts and turned mindfully to a rich, resplendent darkness of form and execution. And although Dark Fortress bested Stab Wounds slightly with 2006’s Séance before slackening off, both Dark Fortress and Secrets of the Moon have subsequently produced two consecutive albums that, while not technically faulty or embarrassing by any stretch, have failed to capitalize on the bold promise of their strident statements of renewed intent. Thus enters Seven Bells.
The modus operandi (or vivendi, more likely) for Secrets of the Moon remains precise, hypnotic, and patiently stretched-out black metal, colored by ambient overtones and a surfeit of seriousness. There is also a heavy Monotheist/Triptykon vibe, which should be unsurprising given Tom G. Warrior and V. Santura’s involvement in the production of the album. (Note that Santura is likely the linchpin in this particular matrix as a member of both Dark Fortress and Triptykon.) The band’s focus is almost never on individual riffs, but on building and maintaining an atmosphere of austere malevolence. Thus, almost all of the songs on Seven Bells trace a similar path: clean, methodical arpeggios introduce a general melodic theme that will, more often than not, be later taken up by venomous tremolo slashing, brief spates of blasting amidst a drum architecture that is otherwise single-minded in its forward-driving pulsation, dramatically snarled vocal sermonizing, slight ambient breaks for eerie effect, and the omnipresent tolling of bells that introduces each song.
Despite that unity of sound, Seven Bells is distinctly a work of two halves, the first four songs breezing by more concisely and with a clearly-defined aim of more memorable, rock-based song structures, while the last three songs nestle and unfurl with all the haste of a glacier grinding down the Himalayas. The initial build of the opening title track almost sounds like prime-era Metallica until the double bass pummeling joins in. The sort-of chorus is effective fist-pumping material, and the careful soloing over the song’s outro is nicely done, bringing this introductory statement to a gripping climax. “Serpent Messiah” is another early standout, mostly due to its memorable chorus. The increasingly intense martial snare work over the last few iterations of that chorus gives the song an aura of white-knuckled mania that is rare for Secrets of the Moon.
Still, Secrets of the Moon’s songs have always worked best when the band digs in, builds a base camp, and then wanders off over long stretches of carefully unfolding, riff-modulating repetition. The back-to-back gloom of “Worship” and “Nyx” is frankly stunning, with the latter song particularly impressive for its mournful cadences which settle into a prime Swallow the Sun/Katatonia depressive sweet spot. By the time the heavy portion of the song concludes, one is frankly drained, and thus the final three minutes of sedated organ drones (courtesy of Bohren & der Club of Gore’s Morten Gaß) and buried chants of exultation are a(n) (un)godsend.
Closing track “The Three Beggars” sparkles with a pleasing multiplicity of overlapping voices (at least one of which belongs to guest vocalist Kvohst of DHG/Code/Hexvessel), while the lyrics center around simple but striking imagery: “Someone must die / When the three beggars arrive.” A disconcerting ambient outro ends things rather abruptly, and then, silence. Not the shocked, deadened silence that follows an act of reckless destruction, but a silence of malignant contemplation, bitter but patient. Eschatology emboldens.
Thus, after the holding pattern of Antithesis and Privilegivm, Seven Bells sees Secrets of the Moon making small but real steps into a new bleak future, while it remains to be seen if Dark Fortress can manage a similar feat with an eventual follow-up to the similarly water-treading duo of Eidolon and Ylem. The longer Seven Bells goes on, the more it gets under one’s skin. This is largely a one-trick act, but it’s a sophisticated trick, and Secrets of the Moon pulls it off with confidence and verve. Theirs is a regal malevolence; the word ‘frantic’ would never really describe their mode of attack. Secrets of the Moon doesn’t aspire to swell the ranks of the foot army of Satan’s soldiers’ syndicate; they’d rather be at the very heart of power in the councils of the court of the Crimson King himself. With Seven Bells they’ve reached the antechamber; here’s hoping the next one finds them re-entering the inner sanctum.
