I once read somewhere that the storytellers and magic practitioners of the pagan dark ages would use a range of different voices to create different effects and atmospheres. Given the range of sounds metal vocalists can produce these days, the effect produced by a canny performer, it was argued, must have been pretty bloody intimidating, if not downright frightening, for the average villager back in the mists of time. Whether that’s true or based on supposition, I can’t quite remember (although so much detail of what happened in those times was unwritten or else recorded by others – usually Romans or Christian monks, for whom separating fact from the fictions they designed to undermine or reconstruct pagan practices must have been constantly difficult). Either way, I often think of that concept when I listen to Icelanders Árstíðir Lífsins. Of all the Viking, pagan, call-them-whatever-you-will metal bands, these guys have managed to come up with one of the most evocative sounds of the genre without ever once collapsing back on samples or those dreaded folk melodies. The folk elements on Aldafǫðr Ok Munka Dróttinn (tr. Óðinn and the God of the Monks) are of a different subtlety and maturity altogether than many you might come across in black and pagan metal subgenres of all hues. No, this is serious stuff and it’s an outfit that has remained utterly true to itself and its mission to render the Icelandic sagas (one of the very rare instances of any pre-Christian European societies writing down their beliefs and histories) for modern consumption – well, modern metal consumption anyway. Because, whatever else this album is, at its heart Árstíðir Lífsins is black metal.
There’s the occasional acoustic guitar among other more traditional instruments and the odd – but very very rare – sound effect (waves lapping on shore; oars in water; din of battle etc). But the basic ingredient here is the good old high pitched fuzz of black metal which, particularly in the first half of the album, is icily harsh in places. That’s all interlaced with drifting passages of songs splicing together what sounds at times like gangs of heathen chorists, instrumentalists of different hues and blasting metal all designed to whisk you away to a thousand years ago when life was hard, the universe was smaller and things lived at the bottom of your garden or under the mountains that could make your life hell on a whim. There was also quite a lot of fighting and, while I’m not exactly sure about the details of the story here, I can just about guarantee it involves love, betrayal, fighting to the death and probably a modicum of fratricide or wife stealing. They always do. This time round, it feels as though the mood has gone a bit more solemn than on previous releases. I mean it’s never what you might call cheery on an Árstíðir Lífsins album but there’s definitely a darker mood here. That’s clearly got something to do with the fact that the male voices dominate. In fact, the real stars this time round – or star to be more precise – against that harsh but beautiful backdrop and in a world of possibilities we couldn’t even imagine being faced with today, are the vocals.
In fact, Marsél Dreckmann (aka German band Helrunar’s Skald Draugir) and his booming baritone whether in spoken word passages, chants or clean singing, spreads itself over the entire proceedings like a finely aged whisky poured over some freshly carved Icelandic ice. Dreckmann, who also does harsh vocals here and in his other band Helrunar, surpasses himself this time around. Indeed the structure of some of the songs, particularly on the second half of the album, is built entirely around his abilities. Add that to rousing chants and the fine canvass of folk, metal and black metal on offer here and there really isn’t anything like Árstíðir Lífsins that I can suggest as a point of reference other than maybe Icelandic compatriots Sólstafir.
Conversely, given what I’ve said about the slightly gloomier pitch to this album, I have to say the production feels more rounded and warmer on Aldafǫðr Ok Munka Dróttinn – the distinct icy edge from 2012’s Vapna seems to have been smoothed away. A good thing given that this is definitely more about the acoustics and subtleties of the vocal talents herein than it has been in the past. But I must admit it still took me a while to get into this latest album. Unlike the previous two full-length efforts and the instant buzz provided by last year’s magnificent split Fragments – A Mythological Excavation (appropriately enough with Helrunar), there are fewer easy hooks to hang onto and you really need to listen to the album in its entirety at least a couple of times to get your head around it (or at least I did to absorb it into my addled grey mass that I think is still sitting between my ears). But then the dominoes start to fall and the textures, light and shade of the entire one hour and 21 minutes begins to settle in. For me Árstíðir Lífsins remains one of the most interesting metal bands around, particularly for a Norse-Viking-dark age obsessive like myself. But this is far more than just metal with a horned helmet on its shaggy head. Árstíðir Lífsins almost manages to exist in a cosmos all of its own. Everything they do can only really be measured against what else they’ve achieved rather than other bands, for now at least. It’s a fascinating ride and I look forward to drilling down into this pagan beast of an album in the weeks and months to come.
(9/10 Reverend Darkstanley)
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