Let’s get an unfortunate truth out of the way – I’m a sucker for a solo project. There’s a romance to them, no? The lone wolf, armed with ideas too fierce (or perhaps too rigid) for outside influence, bounding and howling headlong into the sonic wilderness. A mind teeming with riffs and fills, tortured texts and dripping snarls, hellbent on tempering the internal chaos into polished iron. Black metal is crawling with such singular maniacs, vampyrs and other assorted lo-fi wretches. Kvaen counts among them but manages to distinguish itself as being of a more polished and generally palatable variety. Now, those two p-words may be, to some, antithetical to the traditional tenets of black metal but in this case we are not really in the same ballpark (er, basement). The Formless Fires is crisp, monolithic and muscular. Picture Wanderer above the Sea of Fog but replace the walking stick with a BC Rich Warlock and the stunning vista with an incomprehensible DAW. While Kvaen may not have the same cultural impact as a masterwork of Romantic-era art, it absolutely shares the spirit and is arguably a lot more fun.
Kvaen is the brainchild of one Jacob Björnfot, and having released previous albums in 2020 and 2022 it is safe to say he is a prolific fellow indeed. The core of Kvaen’s sound is black metal of the more melodic variety. Outer layers of seasoning, in no particular order, include a dusting of death metal heft, a dash of thrash, a smear of the anthemic bluster of classic heavy metal. If you cut a cross-section it would be an alluring visual to all manner of metal fans, and with this in particular, the project’s third record, I believe that to be intentional. Everything coalesces into a potent mixture of vicious melody and earwormy songwriting. This blend of extreme metal has the capacity to win over your heavier-than-thous, your grimmer-than-grims, and especially newly initiated devotees looking for the next step up the ladder.
There are some one-man projects where the mastermind’s championed weapon isn’t quite clear, where all of the instruments gel together satisfyingly enough that it may not even matter. The Formless Fires, however, is a blazing-hot slab of a guitar album, a lean and mean plate of Swedish fajitas sizzling and spitting onto your unwitting khakis. Right off the rip, the title track is a smorgasbord (my sincere apologies for using such a pandering word but what’s better, cornucopia? Get real.) of heavy metal guitar tricks. Listen to the solo around 2:10 and tell me this man is not an adept axe-handler. You can hear the feel with which he plays in the wide vibrato, the restraint but also the willingness to crackle forth and tear through the thundering gray below. It’s a little odd to write about hearing a guitar player’s hands but I swear in this record you can. The palm muting is locked in and chunky, the tremolo leads have no hint of sloppy picking. Did I mention that every track has a solo? It’s beautiful, I tell ya. And wow, audible bass with a distinct tone and presence in the mix? The stringed delights are never-ending.
Whilst on the topic of instrumentalists, session drummer Fredrik Andersson must be commended. This is the type of material that could get by comfortably with a bottomless supply of blasts and machine gun double kick, which it does, of course, in moments, but the variety and dexterity on display here are what elevate the songs beyond the standard. You might hear a riff and think you know what to expect in the underlying battery but he’ll switch it up, shifting the momentum of the guitars in such a way that perks the ears back. Tricks like this to maintain interest are littered throughout the album and more than a few were dropped in by Fredrik. “Traverse the Nether” alone has enough different feel changes in the A section to make the relatively limited melodic content seem fresh. The B section ushers in more traditionally thrashy riffing and its associated drumming, nothing groundbreaking but a welcome change of pace. Keep an ear out for when one of the A section melodies comes back in with a pounding wallop underneath, reforging it from a scythe to a hammer. A veteran move, that, a little black bow to wrap the track up nicely.
The front and back halves of The Formless Fires are structured similarly, the first two tracks a scorching Piss and Vinegar followed by a concluding two of mid-paced, swinging fury. That description might read as a detriment but it’s all so well-constructed I can’t help but think it a benefit; music this breezily enjoyable shouldn’t also be opposingly dense to take in. From the title track and descending down through “The Wings of Death” you’re graced with a zippy 39 minutes of velvety, lacerating darkness.
Given Kvaen’s status as a relative newcomer on the scene, signing with Metal Blade to release this record was a savvy decision. This is exactly the kind of stout and confident album a current triple-A extreme metal band would create, let alone a lone, young Swede and his hired skinsmasher. Put Björnfot in the penultimate spot on a European package tour and watch the audiences ask each other if they remember who the headliner is.
