What makes metal metal? Is it the artillery barrage of it’s drums? Is it the primal riffs that assure mutual and total destruction for all involved parties? Is it the ominous and bleak prophetics, the lyrics of black poetry that gives metal it’s perpetually seething, often down-right demonic demeanor? Or is it the rumbling bass-lines, responsible as they are for setting in motion plate tectonics and hurricane Katrina?
I’ve listened to, and loved metal my whole life. Groove metal, black metal, death metal, math metal, progressive metal, thrash metal - no matter where my tastes lead me, no matter how they change over the years, they will always lead me back to metal. And despite my knowledge and experience with the genre, I have only one answer for all of the above questions: I don’t know what makes metal, METAL. None of us can know for sure.
For we are not members of Opeth.
In the fourth millennium B.C, God Almighty was made manifest in avatar form. He knew, one day, that our world would become weak. He knew His human children would succumb to the soft and fickle notions of morality, acceptance, tolerance and free love. And so, he spoke one word into the skies He and his angels had woven. From those gray and primeval skies, five bolts of pure white lightning descended, their catastrophic landing sending mountains of debris into the atmosphere, setting in motion the Great Flood. But far more important than this biblical footnote, was what was left in the wake of that divine sky-fire - five immortal humans that would one day be known as Opeth.
To speculate on the band’s influences is dangerous. Suffice it to say, being a direct manifestation of God, that it is equal parts dehumanizing rage and ethereal serenity. Atonement may hypnotize you with it’s exotic, eastern strings and relaxing Technicolor keys, but it is a far cry away from the band’s most brutal heart - a heart that is, like this song, webbed in conflicting emotions.
It is believed that Ghost Reveries, although not revealed to modern consumers until 2005, was actually a musical testament first performed by Opeth in the Age of Moses. For without the motivational, driving fury of The Baying of the Hounds, Moses himself would have remained below God’s grace, and would not have parted the Red Sea. It’s swaying guitar rhythm and sinister leads blitzed through the vast ocean itself, so one cannot doubt it’s sound to mortal ears. Yet it’s mood, while heated like the biblical chase, tapered and waned like the sea; for Opeth had been created with a perfect understanding of effective dynamics in metal.
It is said that drummer Martin Lopez could reduce tall mountains to rubble with his perfect, yet ever changing fills. This is proven on almost ever song on Ghost Reveries. In Beneath the Mire, we see more, however. Even during the song‘s somber interludes, Lopez insisted on releasing off-time/on-time patterns that are not typical of this world. Ancient societies were inspired by such patterns; in their attempt to understand the workings of Martin’s style, the Mesopotamian and Islamic peoples developed the basis of the numeral system we use today. A later song, Reverie/Harlequin Forest, likely contributed to this phenomena as well, but then again, any of Martin’s work could be an incredible (and probably deadly) catalyst for genius and inspiration.
A quick riff and an eruption of crystal-cut rhythms from bass and guitar rockets the listener into Reverie/Harlequin Forest’s dark turbulence. Mikael Akerfeldt’s lead guitar flows fluidly between the highs and lows of the fret with a level of meticulousness seen rarely from the ranks of his metal peers, castrating the worth of their meager contributions to the genre with condescending ease. What’s more, his mind can joggle masterful guitar-playing with empowered and passionate vocals. When the song’s heartfelt rage and sorrow fades to a soft acoustic rhythm, Mikael’s demonic roar likewise sheds it’s deep snarl, and smoothes over in compliment to a gothic atmosphere. Following the performance of this song while on tour in ancient China, several Tao elders conceived the Yin Yang to illustrate Akerfeldt’s beautiful and startling vocal dichotomy - in every roar, there is peace, and in every tranquil melody, a subtle hatred . . .
However, not all that Opeth endeavored would yield good. Ghost of Perdition, indeed inspired by Akerfeldt’s Yin Yang, would be the most moving of their ancient, heavy-handed prog-metal songs. Even in it’s most refrained acoustic moments, flow and memorable continuity prevail, despite the at times endless intricacies of Mikael’s guitar and Lopez’s drumming. Indeed, it is rare in human history when technical chops are combined so perfectly with emotive and heartfelt playing. And rarely has the problem of lengthy songs been so excused - with a habit of penning ten minute pieces, Opeth somehow finds a way to hold the listener’s attention throughout by tackling the brutal, the acoustic and the mellow, balancing cold-fury with the human heart - all in one song.
It’s queit moments and reflective lyrics were favored by the infamous Karl Marx. It is said that directly following his first listen to Opeth, Marx was inspired to write the first of his testaments on society, loosing a philosophy that would one day inspire violent revolutions across the globe. Much of communism’s 80 million deaths could rightfully be attributed to Opeth, but the band itself is not to blame. Only when humans are foolish enough to assume knowledge of Opeth’s meanings do terrible atrocities occur. And indeed, atrocities have occurred . . . and will likely occur again. . . Hours of Wealth and Isolation Years are almost necessary after listening to the rest of the inferno of Opeth. Down-trodden tunes that seem a mellow reflection of Ghost Reveries signature roar, the minimalist electricity and ambient keyboards that drive them function as further proof that Opeth can conquer any sound they attempt to make. Certainly depressive songs, almost seeming empty compared to the bi-polar, progressive metal cyclone that is the rest of the album. And yet, that remains as Opeth’s strongest characteristic: While many bands have come to adopt the “roar now, sing softly latter” aesthetic, none can come within several miles of Opeth’s undeniable mastery of the mechanic. Vocalist Akerfeldt can resonate like a tormented angel, or blast out a roar that could trigger mass extinction (I won’t even begin to explain Akerfeldt’s role in spreading the Bubonic Plague - despite popular opinion, it had nothing to do with the Mongols heaving their diseased dead around via catapult).
Who could I recommend this release too? Everyone who doesn’t take their own philosophy of the world as sacred - because after listening to Ghost Reveries, nothing will be the same for you. (Disclaimer: There is one song I left unmentioned in the body of my review. The Grand Conjuration. To speak of it is hubris, for it is believed to be the first sign of the End Times - a future that no one but Opeth could know of. Listeners have been warned.)
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