Since Kvelertak’s global success with their debut album, the Norwegian punk scene has become hot property and over the next couple of months we can expect to be inundated with everything from the groovy to the gritty to the downright insane. Last week we got a taste for Man The Machetes, this week Indie Recordings offer us the youthful zest of Blodig Alvor (a band-name that translates into Bloody Serious) and next month we have yet Meir of Kvelertak to look forward to!
If you prefer the less screamy stuff then Blodig Alvor should suit you a little better. The dark guitar strikes and drum-rolling intro of the title track, “Mørkets Frembrudd”, fire into a much more upbeat “Mr. Molotow”. Here, there’s no denying the driving force of the music is that mile-wide, thick wedge of strings that locks in the groove. They piston away under Markus den Outen’s sneers and clarion calls like the proverbial unstoppable force, muddying up the waters nicely.
The music fires out a mixture of MC5 phlegm (evoked in the awesome vocal hook of highlight “Start En Revolusjon”), Hanoi Rocks’ glam, The Subways’ no-nonsense rock simplicity and The Cumshots’ enigmatic swagger (down in the dark recesses of “Solgt Min Sjel”). Put another way, If “Svik” were really a punk he/she would have a mohican and would spend most of their time in a power stance, whilst “Ordets Makt” would sport a skinhead and be either gobbing or showing you a digit. The guitars on the former are either chugging or soloing, whilst the meaner tone and gruff gang chants on the latter imbue it with a gnarly vibe.
There are very little change-ups, most of what you hear in the first track you’ll hear in the last. Sure, there are more gang vocals here, more gapping there, but other than that there’s next to no deviation in pacing or delivery. Small pleasures can be found here or there (in “Vår Resignasjon” where first, Erlend Andersen’s clanging bass gets to step up front, then den Ouden, still channeling his frustrations at society’s failings, steps alone into the spotlight), but overall there is simply way too much that just meanders. It’s a shame because the band show more potential in the closing 30 seconds of acoustic than they do on the whole album.
Of course, even trying to compare a naive, yet honest Blodig Alvor to Norway’s punk starlets Kvelertak would be a little unfair. This music has more in common with their countrymen Oslo Ess’ poppish ska or Blood Command’s driven rock, but if that’s their competition, then being bloody serious about their art might just help them in the long run.
(6/10 John Skibeat)
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