“Bloody Vardan’ and that’s not the first time I have muttered those words under my breath, after all this is the sixth album I have reviewed by him this year and it probably won’t be the last. He must sit there in seclusion, writing away and composing hymns of misanthropy all day long. Man needs to get out more (as do I sitting here writing about him). Perhaps he could gain more exposure to his music if he did something of notoriety like they used to do back in the early black metal times, burn a church down or something maybe? That would probably not be very clever though as he comes from Sicily and is likely to be rewarded with a special necktie and not one that is likely to further his musical career. Anyway let’s get at this again before I babble on even more about the hard working chap.
This time around we have three odes of darkened misanthropy entitled simply I-III. He may have the juices flowing when it comes to composition but obviously lacks imagination when it comes to writing song titles. The first of these which imaginatively could be given an alternative title such as ‘Howling In The Eternal Night Time Forest Where Nobody Here’s My Cry’ is a whopping 19 minute stygian crawl of misanthropic doom and gloom. From the very first note you pretty much know that this Is Vardan, he does tend to stand out from all the other Burzumic clones and clowns and what he lacks in speed he makes up for in tone and volume. Strangely just as we start getting into this misery serenade he plays some metallic sounding classic metal solos which could as easily been from a Gary Moore song as anywhere else. It’s quite unexpected and incredibly precise before the track dispenses with it and gallops off with a howling, blood curdling demeanour about it. The guy doesn’t really deserve anything in the way of humorous put downs from me as the simple fact is he is really a very accomplished musician and deadly serious (I’m sure) about what he does. It’s also very good and each album draws me back to his cosmos eagerly and as yet he has never really failed me. This moves about pace wise throughout, the melody saturates it and despite the running time it seems to play out all too quickly, far from boring and indeed I could miserably listened to it if expanded further. The howls are bordering on inhuman and totally wretched, I could make a joke about him maybe having trodden on a sharp stick but that would be wrong.
Track II, let’s call it ‘And Thou Art Dead, As Young and Fair’ (see easy this naming lark errrr) is equally as epic in construction and meanders through glades of eternal slumber with a simplistic metronomic click to it from the snares and a lush canvas of shimmering fretwork. Of course the horrendous necrotic cries sorrowfully drench this from above and there is beauty conveyed in the sense of utter abandonment here. There’s some quirky acoustic sounding strums trembling away giving it all the more definition and flavour and it’s a real chilled out slice of utter darkness that’s easy to lose yourself in. Shorter but certainly no afterthought is III let’s call it (no let’s stop this right now) takes the path further down into suicidal depths and the pain behind the sharp slicing riffs and abject howls is totally gorgeous to enshroud yourself in. The repetitive melody glistens jaggedly and it sounds like Vardan is slicing himself on broken glass before it suddenly bursts and blossoms into a speedy surge and tears away hell for leather.
So yet another classic album in the grand scheme of things and still there is no negating the quality here via the sheer amount of quantity that Vardan is spreading out like a veritable contagious disease. How long before the next one arrives?
(7.5/10 Pete Woods)
Leave a Reply