originally written by Juho Mikkonen
Connotations are a bitch. They ruin perfectly good attributes by sparking unwanted associations in the minds of the feeble. Take, for example, the adjective “atmospheric.” In the context of metal – at least for a certain segment of its fandom – the use of the word not only implies that the music might be successful in evoking a certain kind of…well, atmosphere, but also that it might flirt with such objectionable identifiers as ‘over-sentimental’ or ‘plain wimpy.’ But is it not the objective of all music–all art for that matter–to be able to convey emotions, ideas, and other sensory values, and, ultimately, create a gripping atmosphere? Moreover, isn’t good music always atmospheric by definition?
Armchair philosophy aside, the first word that popped into my mind when I busted out Svn Eater, Lvcifyre’s second full-length installment of occult black/death metal, was “shit,” as in “holy shit, this stuff is pretty atmospheric.” Well, technically that’s not true, because I do my thinking in Finnish. Actually, the human brain doesn’t even work like that, so it’s not true at all.
However, the truth is that, with their sophomore album, Lvcifyre have conceived something that many of their soullessly blasting, bullet belt fetishizing brethren can only look at in awe, and then maybe hope to follow suit one day. Svn Eater is filled to the brim with engrossing ambiance, yet, unlike with big bulk of metal music that gets tagged as “atmospheric” nowadays, the mise-en-scène here is not an arrangement of seductively gooey melodies and woeful introspection. Instead, Lvcifyre banks on the standard tenets of black/death half-breeds, downtuned strings delivering the seven trumpet blasts of revelation, drums echoing the hailstorm and earthquake that follow and layered vocals spitting fire and brimstone like from the mouths of the mounted horsemen.
“But are there any riffs?” Of course there are, you stupid cunt.
In fact, Svn Eater is an El Dorado of neck-snapping riffage that goes way beyond the hollow power chord abuse and faux dissonance typical for the genre’s second tier orchestras. Every song (even the somewhat lackluster album opener, “Night Sea Sorcery”) introduces at least one standout riff, whereas the most impressive compositions (e.g. “Liber Lilith” and “The Svn Eater”) are basically nothing but riff upon magnificent riff with seamless transitions. The particularly impressive trait of the riff department here is the variety that the two guitarists, T. Kaos and Dictator, are able to exploit. For example, “The Svn Eater” sways back and forth between tremolo-picked barré chord fury, palm-muted death/thrash galloping and wicked, unpredictable fretboard runs à la Ulcerate with so little effort that it’s not only the riff writing but also the meticulous arrangements that deserve a tip of the hat. Maybe there would’ve been room for a few more scorching leads (like the one in “Nekumanteion,” from 2:30 onwards) which are deployed quite sparingly, but that’s a small gripe, considering that Svn Eater is as much of a guitar album as you’re going to get within the confines of no-frills black/death metal.
The performance of the rhythm squad isn’t too shabby either. Actually, I can’t really think of a recent album of this ilk, where the drums sit so firmly in the pocket. The sticksman, Menthor, also has some very personal mannerisms – like, for example, the way he injects desolate tom hits in the middle of the beats (probably most notable in “Fyre Made Flesh”) – which spice up the already impressive, albeit sometimes a bit too blast-happy, percussion work. Most importantly, there is a very harmonious (for want of a better word – those connotations again) interplay between different instruments, which, with an appropriately punishing yet polished sound, leads, at best, to absolute sonic devastation in the context of this type of music (best exemplified in the opening bombardment of “Chalice of Doom”).
Some songs on Svn Eater are better than others, sure, and it’s not like we’re gazing upon the nexus of innovation here. However, with an album of this caliber, the critic’s trite fault-finding mission seems like a bit redundant exercise, since there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. Instead, it’s a piece of work that somehow seems more than just a sum of its parts. There’s a captivating occult aura that sweeps across the whole record and cannot be traced back to chord progressions or lead patterns. There is something compelling that can’t be reduced to mere technical proficiency. There’s the je ne sais quoi. And that, my friends, is what “atmospheric” is all about.
