It’s about 2 and a half minutes into the second song, ‘Cursed Sons II’ that ‘A Furrow Cut Short’ really begins to sink in and the chills descend. It’s a typically strident refrain – at once stately yet laced with melancholy, the droning guitars and measured drums buoyed by an underswell of reflective synth ambience – but it somehow manages to represent Drudkh’s enduring appeal in one microcosmic (no pun intended) moment. It’s good to have them back.
But allow me to take a step back. Far from being cursed sons, since their inception in 2002, the Ukrainian four piece have very much the favoured sons of the atmospheric black metal scene – their distinctive brand of Burzum-esque, hypnotic, soaring music and penchant for enticing artwork garnering them an ever-increasing following. A refusal to participate in interviews or perform live (and some might arguably add, the occasional whiff of nationalist politics that has seeped from their committed, passionate subject matter of Ukrainian history) has simply added to the band’s mystique.
What is unarguable however is the consistent quality of Drudkh’s output – from the captivating drone of their ‘Forgotten Legends’ debut to the fury and thunder of ‘Blood in our Wells’ to the poorly-received yet perfectly acceptable dabble with post-rock on 2010’s ‘Handful of Stars’, Roman Saenko, Thurios and their companions have demonstrated time and again their capability to create a powerful, distinctive brand of black metal.
It’s those soaring melodies and delicate, subtle acoustic guitars that are key. Career highlight release ‘Autumn Aurora’ had delicacy in spades and there’s plenty of that here on ‘A Furrow Cut Short’ yet they’ve also managed to forge that with the ferocious chug of ‘Blood in our Wells – a potent combination indeed, realised splendidly on ‘To the Epoch of Unbowed Poets’ which opens with a frenetic blast before settling into the track’s central theme.
‘Embers’ meanwhile is a darker piece – Vlad’s inventive percussion carries plenty of menace but it’s the churning chords and sibilant synths that paint evocative pictures of desolate homesteads and promises of vengeance in amongst the mourning.
Things build to a climax as the album progresses and it’s the lengthy two-parter in the album’s latter half (‘Dishonour I’ and ‘Dishonour II’) that reap some of the most impacting rewards. The first half is similar to ‘Embers’, buoyed by rage and darkness but never losing sight of the album’s overarching feeling of melodic melancholy. This is exemplified in the second piece in which the pace is ratchetted down to achieve a sense of morose grandeur, leading towards the powerful album closer ‘Till Foreign Ground Shall Cover Eyes’.
Ten albums in thirteen years is a remarkable prolific release schedule, even taking into account the fact that Drudkh are unburdened by live commitments and the need to keep older material sharp. What’s more remarkable is the band’s continuing ability to maintain quality and keep producing material that is not only rooted in their own distinctive sound but manages to captivate on its own merits.
Steeped in ambience and redolent with elements of their homeland’s bitter past (even more topical given recent developments), the passion in this release is even more palpable than ever. In that – and harking back to some of Drudkh’s strongest earlier works – ‘A Furrow Cut Short’ can only be regarded as a real triumph. By their standards, it’s taken a long while to see the light of day (nearly three whole years!) but has most definitely been worth the wait.
(9/10 Frank Allain)
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