Originally written by Jordan Campbell
Shamaatae is an established madman. And though this black metal isolationist has his quirks—he spent a large portion of the 1990s romping through the forest in a troll mask and retired from music for a spell to pen widely-unread tomes on Chaos-Gnosticism—the music he creates as Arckanum is actually growing quite conservative. He plys a straight-up brand of black metal that few top tier acts can still effectively execute, but his recent penchant for prolifacy has produced varied results.
His pre-retirement masterpiece was 1997’s Kostogher, a wild-eyed epic largely driven by his frenetic, colossal drumming. Shamaatae is a drummer first, a guitarist second. Thus, given the single-mindedness of his blackened wares, his albums live and die by the quality of both riffs and tone. When he presented his comeback album, Antikosmos, in 2008, it came off as rusty and dessicated. It was the work of a gnarled, crippled cur struggling to unfurl his limbs and thrash. Its lifespan was brief.
A mere year later, ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ arrived with MOTHERFUCKING RIFFS in tow, and all were pleased. Again, execution is the crux of success when you’ve boxed yourself into this style. If you deliver championship caliber string-filth, fuck-yeahs are warranted for everyone involved. If the tones and bones are lacking, well…shrugtime. ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ‘s rapid fire follow-ups, Sviga Læ and Helvítismyrkr, triggered unenthused shoulder rolls.
Fenris Kindir arrives as a bit of a do-or-die record for Arckanum, at least in regards to the act’s continued relevance. And even though this was designed as a concept album about GIANT FIRE WOLVES or something, all that matters is—you guessed it—riffs.
Thankfully, Fenris Kindir has ‘em in spades. Sham’s tones are wrapped in a barbed buzz, but still drip with viscera as he lashes forward. “Dolgrinn” is the best encapsulation of his churning, slashing style, but the bass-heavy “Hatarnir” and its punked-out Hate Them vibe steals the show.
Later, this newfound love for the four-string gives weight to the mid-tempo stomper “Spell,” a massive track that proves that Arckanum can excel even without gunning for breakneck gallop.
One major problem: It’s all pretty familiar. Enjoyment of Fenris Kindir is going to directly correlate with your desire for a fifth Arckanum album in six years. Does this entry approach the greatness of ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ? Nope. But It’s certainly a rung above the other three post-hibernation releases, strictly based on presentation and strength of execution. Aside from the standout tracks mentioned above, however, there’s nothing here that’s quite strong enough to keep an itchy finger from creeping towards the still-fresh ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ.
Struggling to burst free from a shadowed specter of your own casting must be frustrating for an artist, but there are probably worse problems to have. Like an infestation of GIANT FIRE WOLVES. Or something.
