Khanus – Flammarion Review

Finland’s Khanus is a very strange band, and not necessarily for the reason most of us westerns likely think–that snicker-friendly name that has no conveniently available translation. No, Finland’s Khanus is a strange band to their very core; they play Strange Heavy Metal, something that shouldn’t be surprising given that they are about two degrees separated from the extensive Ved Buens Ende family tree. There’s a bit of an anything goes feel to debut full length Flammarion in its mix of doom, death, black metal, and various operatic and “avant-garde” elements, but like so many Strange Heavy Metal records, it’s all rooted in that unabashed personality.

The weirdness starts from the top, as Khanus kicks off the record with a Darkthrone cover, and not just any Darkthrone cover, but the closer from 1996’s extremely middling Total Death, “The Serpent’s Harvest.” There hasn’t been a more curious cover-as-opener choice on a metal record since Tom Warrior was snarking on about barbecue iguana, and like that bizarre selection, this one works! They take a rather straightforward black metal track, infuse it with some weirdo chanting, and drop the tempo enough to make it doom/death. Anyone lacking familiarity with the original could be forgiven for not even knowing it’s a Darkthrone tune, which is surely just what Khanus wanted. (It’s also a lot better than the original, but that says as much about where Darkthrone was in 1996 than where Khanus is in 2018.)

Oddball sign number two: after essentially de-speeding a black metal song to open the album, they kick off the next track, “A Timeless Sacred Art,” with speedier riffs than anything on the opener before dropping into some (yes-it’s-a-cliché-but-it-makes-sense-here) ritualistic doom/black/death located somewhere between mid-period Root, Valborg, and a slower version of Dødheimsgard. Strange Heavy Metal is influenced by Strange Heavy Metal, it seems.

The riff connection to Valborg is as key as the vocal connection to all three of the aforementioned bands, all giving Flammarion a big injection of personality. Main man Sovereign (vocals, bass, guitar) carries the same kind of grandiose theatricality and even flamboyance in his voice as does Vicotnik, ranging from wails and yells and weirdo singing to deep death growls. His oft-simplistic but extremely catchy riffs, meanwhile, provide the album with as much atmosphere as they do punchiness, often doubling whatever mood the vocals seem to be communicating. For example, when the guitars in “The Uncreated” do a bit of minor bludgeoning, the vocals are terse and gruff, and when things open up, Sovereign goes full madman-preacher-singer (cackles are more implied than performed, however, in case any Big Boss fans were getting too excited).

 

The whole (again-this-is-a-cliché-but-it’s-the-band’s-wording) shamanistic vibe is greatly enhanced by the inclusion of operatic vocals from Meltiis, who, like Sovereign, matches her voice to the surrounding music. Sometimes she sustains her lines to expand the atmosphere, at at other times, as in “Ageless,” she pairs a staccato delivery with Sovereign’s deeper growls, again emphasizing the album’s maniacal vibe.

So yes, it’s strange, and there’s a good chance that live shows involve robes and candelabras and books and smoke machines. But is it good? Absolutely! Flammarion is quite good, indeed; riffy, catchy, and rife with charisma. But it’s just the kind of quite good that might only appeal to fans of the type of extreme metal that makes one think of robes and candelabras and books and smoke machines. Thankfully, due to 30-plus years of Strange Heavy Metal, there are plenty such fans, and everyone from the original listeners of Celtic Frost’s adventures on “Mexican Radio” and readers of Root’s Book to Valborg’s cries out to Samantha ought to give the album a good spin. It might repulse you, but it also might be your favorite record of the quarter. Such is the nature of Strange Heavy Metal.