A lot of the bands I listen to (and thus review) revel in making music that is best described using formulae such as “Band A + Band B x Genre X = ???” because, well, I like my crossover shit. In addition, being eternally curious about weird crossbreeds and peculiar metal in general often takes me far and wide from my post, black, folk and industrial metal roots – notably in the direction of prog and the doomsphere of late. So there’s something incredibly comforting about finding myself tasked with reviewing an album that is not only none of the above, it’s the exact opposite of most of the above. It’s not black metal ÷ deathly encrustened gazerock (which doesn’t currently exist as far as I know, but give the metal world time), and it’s about as far from being out of my comfort zone as it’s strictly possible to be. This is black metal, through and through. It’s not really crossed with anything. There are no diverse and exciting influences thrown into the cauldron from god knows where. It’s just straight up True Norwegian Black Metal, with all that that implies. If you need a formula for this, it’s Black Metal².
No shade to the bands out there plugging away at exotic fusion metal and creating new sub-genres out of little more than a blackened groove riff and more pluck than the Famous Five – I’m a big fan of such things. But however much you love the weirder, more avant-garde end of metal, there will always be something immensely comforting, reassuring even, about a band that nailed their colours to the mast over twenty years ago, and still work from the same mission statement to this day. With that in mind ladies, gentlemen, and howling ghouls from the dominions of Hell, I give you: Tsjuder.
I’ve said before in reviews that my favourite evolutionary stage of old school black metal bands is the point at which they leave behind the cvlt stakes, and start doing whatever the hell they want – Darkthrone and Satyricon being the most famous examples. But that’s far from the only path that we’ve seen the original proponents of second wave black metal take over the years: others went down odd paths like techno-industrial (The Kovenant), some produced a much-loved album and never really did much else (Thorns), and yet others ended up dead or in prison. Of those still going, the majority are now making music that bears no resemblance to their early days, and many of those that are still making black metal have largely lost the grit and venom that made second wave black metal stand out in the first place. Some are pale shadows of their former selves (in terms of music, lineup or both), and others have slipped into cliché and borderline parody (I’m not going to name names, but if you’re reading a Tsjuder review, I’m going to assume you’ve got half an idea who I’m talking about here). Tsjuder, on the other hand, are not only still making cold hard black metal, with all the sharp, shrieking fury that it had thirty years ago (it is indeed that long ago: apologies), but they’re still doing it in much the same way it was done back in the early 90s. That in itself is an achievement. This isn’t an old school black metal band rehashing their glory days, this is an old school black metal band who are still in their glory days.
Unlikely as it may seem to diehard black metal fans, Helvegr is the sort of album I thought was long gone: a Norwegian black metal album that sounds like it was shrieked at the full moon in the early 90s. For the uninitiated, I really can’t stress enough how much that is not an insult. Most black metal these days, even from bands that were around for the Norwegian second wave, tends to be mixed with other things, or moving in very different directions to the original sound. This is primarily because the people, events, and music of the Norwegian black metal scene circa the late 80s/early 90s were singular to say the least. I’m not going to get into details here (again, if you’re reading a Tsjuder review, you probably know), because it’s too complicated and unpleasant to sum up in a pithy sentence in a context like this, but I will say that most people aren’t seriously yearning for a repeat performance. It did, however, give birth to a very distinct genre that was viciously, ferociously different to anything that had gone before, and the music and events are inextricably linked. I’ve long suspected that the reasons black metal has moved in so many different directions since then are a) it’s already been done about as well as it possibly can be, b) it lends itself extraordinarily well to cross-pollination and creating new genres, and c) how do you recreate a sound born out of, and so intricately woven through, a scene that cost multiple people their lives, resulted in more than one lengthy prison sentence, and has lingering effects on the wider perception of metal to this day? How do you channel the nihilistic energies that brought forth raw, malicious fury like De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas? The answer for the most part, is that you can’t – even if you were there.
Helvegr didn’t get that memo though.
On first listening, I genuinely had to check I was listening to the right album, and that I hadn’t been sent some obscure early 90s black metal tape instead (not that I would have objected, but it does help to know what you’re reviewing). I also had to check that some of the vocals on Gods of Black Blood weren’t actually Nocturno Culto moonlighting from Crust Punks Inc – my all-time favourite black metal album, A Blaze in the Northern Sky is even name-checked in the press pack, so the resemblance isn’t entirely surprising. Right from the off, this takes the listener back to the days of De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, A Blaze in the Northern Sky, In Times Before the Light, Dark Medieval Times, and whichever other classics of the genre you care to mention. The Darkthrone comparison is the most useful, because Tsjuder also came at black metal from death metal beginnings, and the lingering traces of death metal – primarily the riffs – are woven throughout this album, just as they are on A Blaze in the Northern Sky.
Talking of Darkthrone, first out of the gate is Iron Beast, a hefty chunk of deathy black metal with the sort of distorted, chattering demon vocals that you find at the beginning of Kathaarian Life Code – and I hope you like those, because there’s no shortage of them on this album. There’s an undercurrent to this track that keeps you charging forwards at top speed into the rest of the album, and literally drops into a dark waltz-like tempo at various points, channelling the creepier, more occult end of classic hard rock. Prestehammeren continues the fast-moving fury with oppressive sirens and lots of growling, before launching into a lightning-quick monstrosity of techy black metal with no little death influence. The combination of drums and riffs here creates a harsh, brittle sound that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Thorns album. Surtr takes everything down a notch into Skyggedans type territory, while keeping that artificial Thorns-like element, before letting rip with a snarling onslaught of drums that would make Frost blush. “I am the black one” indeed. And the black one is followed by Gamle-Erik (“the evil one”), which is aptly named. This is pure ice-cold hatred from the off, and doesn’t let up except for some creepy demonic muttering towards the middle, but even that gets swept away by the cacophonous hatred. Chaos Fiend and Gods of Black Blood continue in a similar (icy black) vein, with some thrash influences creeping into the former, while the latter channels Nemesis Divina, with anguished howling over some surprisingly melodic riffs, before ending with some excellent guest vocals from Siedemann (of 1349 infamy). Then, suddenly, the title track arrives, and everything changes. It’s more melodic, less frenzied and while Tsjuder continue to spit fire and distorted beats, they’re doing it at a lower tempo, which is slightly disorienting in the context of the wider album. The final extinction burst of the album is Faenskap og Død, which is short, sharp, sweet and absolutely fucking hostile. Then Tsjuder catch you on the hop as a parting shot, with Hvit Død, which is a confusingly gentle, atmospheric track to end an album that, thus far, has Happened to me in a way that even black metal albums don’t often manage. It comes off as downright bloody-minded to finish on such a note given the aural atrocities committed by the rest of it, but honestly, I can vibe with that. What better way to keep us all on our toes after nearly 40 minutes of sheer savagery?
This is already bordering on a novel, so I’ll wrap it up relatively briefly. This is essentially the angry bastard lovechild of Nemesis Divina and A Blaze in the Northern Sky, as shat out onto a battered cassette tape in a dark Norwegian forest circa 1993, and it’s absolutely glorious. I cannot stress enough how much this sounds like it was actually made while the second wave of black metal was in full swing, and capturing that mood and sound thirty years on is no mean feat, to say the least. Tsjuder aren’t “revisiting” or rehashing this sound from thirty years away – Helvegr slots into the glory days of the genre so perfectly that it’s actually a little unnerving. It fits in superbly not only in terms of style as well – it’s also more than good enough to stand alongside its ancestors. Which is remarkable in its own right.
The best way I can describe it is this: it’s like getting to listen to a classic second wave black metal album for the first time all over again. All the hallmarks are there, it’s every bit as cold, harsh and apoplectic with pure malice as you could ever want, and it’s done superbly, but it’s new. All it needs is a blurry black and white photo of a becorpsepainted Norwegian teenager in the woods at night, and you can file this away with the other greats of that scene.
(9.5/10 Ellie)
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