Dødheimsgard – Black Medium Current Review

[Album artwork by Łukasz Jaszak]

Let’s celebrate weirdness without getting too philosophical about what exactly constitutes “weird.” We all know weird, we all know it keeps life interesting, and we all likely hope to encounter its benefits more often than its disadvantages. Unless, of course, you happen to be weird. How strange.

When I was 9 years old, there was a kid who sat next to me in our 4th grade class that I was none too thrilled to have in my immediate vicinity. In the dead of winter, that kid put a small container of pebbles on his desk with a small sign tucked into it that read “frozen boogers for sale.” Interesting weird? I suppose so. Need to be around that brand of weird 24/7? Likely a negatory on that one, m’lordship. Heck of an entrepreneur, though.

Conversely, that same year, a new girl joined our 4th grade class who changed my live irrevocably. She was the first person to totally floor me with her beauty. I very much recall the weirdness of that lightning strike of love, because my only other experience up to that point with a different form of love was largely reserved for my family, Saturday morning cartoons, and Chewbacca. Much to my great fortune, the crush was reciprocated, as evidenced through small acts of snuggly meanness that eventually culminated with said girl smearing Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker lip balm all over my desk before I arrived to class one morning. My best friend thought that was weird. And yeah, it was pretty weird. Good weird. I gave that girl a fuzzy caterpillar at recess to let her know I loved her, and then my family moved away six months later and I never saw or heard from her again. Love giveth, and love taketh away. Love is a wonderfully weird and steadfast specter that will save us one moment and doom us the next, and it will do so for the entirety of our lives. That is a wonderfully weird certainty. Some people want you to believe love is nothing more than chemicals partying in a very specific club located in some swanky alley inside your brain. That’s weird. I actually have no problem with that, as long as my name is permanently atop the VIP guest list. Let’s all take several moments to bask in the glowing wonder of love and its attending weirdness, all of us together like filthy fricken hippies.

So, Dødheimsgard… They’re a strange band. Lovingly and instinctively weird, as chief architect Vicotnik comes across every bit as lovingly and instinctively weird himself. Not weird like that uncle who huffs gas in the garage and thinks the government follows his every move 24/7, but weird in that it would not be totally out of the ordinary to discover Vicotnik occasionally commutes to his regular job as a mountain lion wrangler on a vintage motorcycle with a sidecar occupied by a large stuffed bear. Good weird. Fun weird. “I know something about life and its inevitable end that’s hidden from most of the population” weird. Calculated weird. No, I don’t actually believe Vicotnik is a mountain lion wrangler, but I think perhaps he could’ve gone that route if he hadn’t had all his eccentric musical ventures within reach over the last 30 years to regularly explore life’s peculiarities from an artistic slant. Related: If I were a bettin’ man, I’d put a c-note on the likelihood Vicotnik had a “love’s weird and wonderful lightning strike” moment the first time he discovered Touch and Go Records and early works from the likes of Big Black, Slint and Killdozer around 30 years ago. Or, yeah, maybe he just crawled out of a similar primordial ooze adjacent to the one responsible for birthing early T&G bands. I’m not a soothsayer over here, for hell’s sake. That early Ved Buens Ende material circa 1995, though? Delightfully weird and angular in a way that seems notably relevant to early Touch and Go, and that has certainly trickled into Dødheimsgard.

If you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting a DHG fan in the wild, you will quickly notice they will never shut up about 2015’s A Umbra Omega. Full disclosure: I was late to the Omega game, having been sort of shaken from the Dødtrail somewhere amidst the band’s hardest industrial years (1999’s 666 International and 2007’s Supervillain Outcast) after favorable encounters with their early necro years (1995’s Kronet til konge and the subsequent mean ol’ Monumental Possession in 1996.) A completely leveling performance at Maryland Deathfest in 2018 fired me right back into the fold, though, and I have since become a card carrying member of the “A Umbra Omega ist krieger than thou” crew, finally recognizing the brilliance of how that record manages to blend a very precise and maniacal form of black metal chaos (Aldrahn’s vocals in particular: BANANAS) with Vicotnik’s innate sense of off-kilter yet fluid noir.

By way of comparison, the band’s latest full-length, Black Medium Current, feels… almost not weird? Which is a new level of weird in and of itself, because DHG always finds ways to out-weird themselves in the most wonderfully innovative ways. Ahhh, but BMC is indeed weird—a controlled and favorable form of weird, like those new waffles for kids that sneak vegetables into the formula. So, yes, I have a hunch that Black Medium Current has pureed butternut squash stashed in some of its songs, and it is sneaky, and it definitely works. However, it does come at things from a less chaotic vantage point compared to previous releases. The post- element carried over from Vicotnik’s VBE days continues to haunt the corners, but it’s less jarring this time around, and it manages to tap into a charmingly sullen post-black vibe that gives the record an even deeper sense of introversion / reflectiveness. It’s a prettier record. Moodier. Darker. Calmer without being outwardly calm, because plenty of its time is still spent being volatile enough to rip through the fabric of time. Opener “Et smelter” and its follow-up “Tankespinnerens Smerte” in particular set the stage for those prevailing post- elements, both launching the listener into the dark firmament on the authority of majestic black metal riffing that’s perfectly punctuated with melodic keyboard flourishes and, in the case of “Tankespinnerens,” one of the prettiest and most heart-stricken bits of melody we’ve heard from DHG (right around the 2:15 mark.)

Vocally, Black Medium Current is a pretty different beast when stacked next to its predecessors. Without good ol’ Aldrahn behind the mic, there is a palpable decrease in franticness, but being no stranger to unhinged vocals himself, Vicotnik fills that kaleidoscopic role quite nicely. That’s great news, as BMC is very much governed by the vocals. Even when Vicotnik isn’t rasping like a ghoul or trilling like some sort of wild oracle, there’s an endless sea of “oooh-oooh’s,” “ahhh-ahhhh’s” and general lamenting occupying a significant portion of the record’s space. It all works, and Vicotnik clearly has a lot to say, as the stated goal of the album’s narrative deals with stacks of heady stuff we’ve come to expect from the man. Hell, I read and re-read the declared intentions behind the lyrics three or four times and still slunked away feeling as if I needed to take notes for homework later. It’s good to be challenged that way.

Vicotnik:

Attempting to adequately relate the peculiarities of any DHG release is always a challenge, as the design approach always feels spontaneous, and the band neglects rules like it’s a six-figure job, so stepping into a new record requires the listener to dress in about ten different layers. Don’t like what you’re hearing? Wait 2 minutes, amirite? Highest of fives! And while it’s true the peculiarities behind BMC may feel a little less far-reaching on the surface, return spins will reveal clever layers that open a myriad of doors, which is testament to Vicotnik’s flair as a songwriter. Within this hour+ ride there are danceable grooves that sail seamlessly into trippy Pink Floyd drifts before sliding into outright glo-stick techno (“Interstellar Nexus”); there are violent bursts of explosive, angular black metal that quickly molt into long spacey drifts replete with celestial swooshings and extensive keyboard bleep-bloopings (“Det tomme kalde morke”); and there’s even a terrifically unique stretch where things kick off like a strange Lugubrum dip before suddenly shapeshifting into… uh… Faith No More? (“It Does Not Follow.”) In short, there are plenty of layers to peel, and all the while, Vicotnik uses his umpteen voices to fill the foregrounds, backgrounds, sidegrounds and undergrounds with strange little repeated mantras that come across like the scrawled rantings of a doomed dungeoner just before being hauled off cackling to the gallows pole.

“To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect.” Hey, I have no idea how Oscar Wilde already knew of Dødheimsgard and their fans back in the late 1800s, but I’m guessing it has something to do with a lost Star Trek: The Next Generation episode. It rings so very true, though, as walking into any new DHG adventure has always been a bit like getting invited to stroll the Nicolas Cage’s estate: “Is… Is that the hull of an actual Space Shuttle in the living room? Oh, look, there’s a tiger on the couch.” The unexpected is a big part of why we always pay the price of admission for DHG, and Black Medium Current continues the quest for that unique and unpredictable connection. Sure, the strangeness may seem a little more subtle at first blush, but that’s largely due to the record’s less frantic approach that opts to underscore a more solemn and moody atmosphere. Moreover, DHG has always understood the benefit of balance, so the weirdness is delivered without covering each and every window with tinfoil.

Yeah, maybe it’s a touch rude to spend so much time focusing on the word “weird” when more elegant choices such as “innovative” and “avant-garde” exist. But, again, when weird is good, it’s very good, and it’s vital to celebrate virtuous weirdness in times like these. Humans are weird. Life is weird. How boring would our existence be without all that weirdness coloring the corners? Glory be, DHG and Black Medium Current are once again prepped and ready to accompany us on our wonderfully strange journey.