[Cover art by Mars Triumph]
Petrichor, the sixth full length album from Greece’s epic metal stalwarts Battlelore, commences with the sound of rain and an invitation to reflect. That word, “petrichor,” is a relatively new one (coined by scientists in 1964) but it marks a sensation as old as our ability to perceive it.
pe·tri·chor
: a distinctive, earthy, usually pleasant odor that is associated with rainfall especially when following a warm, dry period
The smell of fresh rain on dry ground; it’s a pleasant but portentous thing. We don’t always know what comes with rain, especially if it’s an infrequent guest. Anyone with four walls to call their own knows how much of our mental forces are marshaled toward finding ways to divert it from our doorstep. But we nevertheless bask in the smell of petrichor, appreciate it for what it is, and stiffen our backs to face what is to come.
To my ears, this is Battleroar’s most stout offering to date—a disposition you may be inclined to associate with American practitioners of this style—yet Petrichor also finds them sounding more European than ever. The compositions march with a heavy footfall, but I don’t hear swagger on the track, I hear something like resoluteness. Take for example “Atē, Hybris, Nemesis,” a mid-paced wanderer that really only embraces its inner berserker once a bit of chaos strikes at the 4-minute mark in the form of a storm-calling violin solo performed by newcomer Alex Papadiamantis. Here the song shakes itself awake with something like the urgency of a prizefighter tasting his own blood for the first time. Here we get that full-spectrum feeling of thunderous drums and galloping guitars. Here we get that subtle barometric shift from “something is coming” to “something is here.” Petrichor.
Longtime fans of Battleroar oughta know that Petrichor features the debut of vocalist Michalis Karasoulis. I don’t think I’m being too hyperbolic by describing Karasoulis’ performance as a significant departure from those logged by former vocalist Gerrit Mutz on Codex Epicus (2018) and Blood of Legends (2014). Mutz was game and gritty, but Karasoulis is, frankly, a fuckin’ killer. While not a paint scraper, he’s soulful, sturdy and emotive despite never sounding taxed by his vocal lines. You hear his full bag of tricks on mid-album highlight, “The Earth Remembers, The Rain Forgives.” The rich, weathered timbre of Karasoulis’ voice is one thing, his expansive range is another and yet another still is the cheek-piercing hook of the chorus’ vocal melody. It’s easily my most replayed moment on an album that offers more than a few. You’ll want to hear it, feel it, again and again.
If any fans are harboring suspicions that Karasoulis’ refinement might rob Battleroar of its rugged charm, I’d like to collegially suggest you just drop that. Because, here’s the thing, the instrumentalists in Battleroar have sharpened their game as well. On a song-by-song basis, this is some of the heaviest and most melodic work the band has put to wax. Memorable riffs abound (“What is Best in Life?” might have more “damn, I wanna learn how to play that” moments than any track I’ve heard this year).
The guitar leads throughout Petrichor are melodic but rarely ornate, and while Papadiamantis’ violin adds a dash of flash, his focus seems to be coloring in some emotional shades not present on the band’s earlier work. It’s not the time to definitively argue that this is the best Battleroar album, but they’ve put their noses to the grindstone to create an album that’s both technically accomplished and emotionally resonant. I think it’s something the band oughta be proud of and fans oughta embrace.
It’s notable to me that this is the first Battleroar album to be released since the passing of longtime mentor / collaborator Mark Shelton. Shelton’s Manilla Road is tops among Battleroar’s similar artists list on Metal-Archives.com, despite the fact that the two bands don’t really sound all that similar. Of course, Battleroar plays epic heavy metal, a style Shelton pioneered–but the connection is deeper than just that. Shelton means so much to so, so many because he told stories in his own voice. It’s why Manilla Road’s style could dramatically shift from one album to the next (stop to consider that Crystal Logic precedes Out of the Abyss by just five years) and fans would embrace the progression as nothing less than totally natural. Because it was Shark being Shark. Is Battleroar on that level? I have a feeling even founder and mastermind Kostas Tzortzis would slap me if I suggested such a thing. But they’re telling their own story, and they’re only getting better. The something that’s coming might already be here. Petrichor.
