It’s been interesting charting the course of the Ukrainian BM sound this past decade or so; the rise and fall of Hate Forest; Drudkh’s journey from raw and obscure beginnings to mainstream popularity on a major label, and the seemingly symbiotic relationship forged with Winterfylleth and Wodensthrone, answering the Ukrainians’ call in England’s windswept North. Drudkh’s fellow countrymen Khors have always existed just outside my radar, but with their fifth album ‘Wisdom of Centuries’ released by Candlelight, it seems that they too are coming in from the cold.
The album starts off very promisingly. Opener ‘Black Forest’s Flaming Eyes’ recaptures that ancient, stoic sound, with a shifting, tidal momentum centered around a churning rhythm that conjures up roaring rivers and the eerie, watchful silence of some long-forgotten battlefield. A rich, rocky guitar solo of the kind Drudkh started using mid-career marks the song’s midway point before it plunges underground with a dissonant and depressive groove, tinged with strains of languid piano.
‘The Last Leaves’ starts off much more urgent and chaotic, thundering ahead with full force across undulating terrain, before switching unexpectedly to a catchy gothic riff that momentarily brings to mind Dark Tranquillity and Crematory. What the hell; it works. Surprisingly well, in fact. From here the song segues into searching, upbeat chords, climbing steadily higher with unabashed, post-rocky optimism before eventually plateauing triumphantly as the waves of BM come crashing back in. Suddenly laid-back and drenched in warmth, it’s no longer a sensation of clawing through dense thickets, the branches scratching at your face, but of driving along a winding road atop a crevasse, gazing across at thick forest silhouetted by a blazing sun.
At this point though the album gets a bit lost in a series of meandering detours and never fully recovers. First come two interludes back to back for some reason; one consisting of a simple drumbeat and rumbling horns, and the second a dull, meandering passage of clean guitars and piano with a bluesy, Mediterranean feel to it. The latter one feels very out of place, and the momentum of the earlier tracks is entirely lost. The subsequent title track is surprisingly disappointing too; a plodding, six-minute dirge of simplistic doom/sludge riffs and repetitive acoustic chords. All in all, it feels like ten solid minutes of interludes, leaving me wondering what on earth went wrong.
Thankfully, the epic-sounding ‘The Only Time Will Take it Away’ (sic) gets things back on track with its gentle, pastoral acoustics, rolling, melancholy riffs and brooding key-changes. It feels like too little too late though, and as the outro ”Twilight’ calls out from the primal past with its distant, echo-laden, metallic-acoustic ambience and ghostly synths, it’s hard to shake the feeling that the album feels frustratingly incomplete.
It’s nicely mixed, and comes across as both rousing and sincere, but it feels more like a (very strong) EP padded out with filler than an album-proper. There’s still plenty to enjoy here though, and fans of Wodensthrone’s epic, contemporary take on BM in particular would do well to give it a spin. It’s just a shame it feels so disjointed.
( 7/10 Erich Zann)
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