Back with his 8th studio album and first since 2017’s Kong Vinter, Hoest presents four epic tracks of frostbitten Norsk Svart Metal here and there’s plenty to sink your teeth into. With title translating to ‘An Ocean Of Distance’ one gets the impression of a man determined to go it alone and do things his own way as he has done on all his previous works. Everything is centred around his long snakelike and sinuous guitar work and this is illustrated by the spiralling and continuous thorny embrace that wraps itself around the recording. Indeed, there’s hardly anything in the way of a let up in this until the first two tracks have concluded and those who pick the album up on vinyl are ready to flip the wax over.
There’s little clue on narrative unless you take a visual insight into the titles; the first of which ‘Denne forblaaste ruin av en bro’ paints a picture of solitude and desolation by the elements meaning ‘This windblown ruin of a bridge.’ Gloomy barren vistas are conveyed and melody is quickly enforced by that twisting all-encompassing sound. The snarls and rasps back it up as the drums patter away like a sudden downpour of rain. It’s no misery serenade however and there’s a sense of bravado about things, especially as the rhythm expands into a jaunty folk-laden sounding refrain. As always everything is catchy as hell and enjoyable to follow as it coils around you, a hefty death belch delivered as it bounces away and reels you in like a fish on a barbed line. It’s also far from one-dimensional, the riffs are not basic, simple structures but have a progressive flow about them, not too complicated to follow but certainly keeping you on your toes. As usual it’s an invitation to pump fists and bang heads although playing air-guitar may well see you ending up tied in knots. It’s a case of a sudden bosh as without pause the bristling ‘Utarmede Gruver’ sees us submerging into ‘Depleted Mines’ and scavenging for more obsidian treasure. The snarls increase in gravid ruggedness but it’s the sections of fast-flowing, jousting guitars that really impress, Hoest making it all sound so natural as he jams away. There is a doomy break with some odd croaky sounds embedded into the mid-section with some further captivating melody taking over and getting into your head, refusing to let go and coming back to haunt long after the album has finished.
Loose drum beats momentarily clatter after that pause and we brashly furrow into ‘Gid sprakk Vi.’ Plenty of grit and raw drive here as things are tempestuously swept along with giddy finesse. I can imagine the urgent clamour of this one being a crowd pleaser when dropped into the live set and this shorter 6-minute number conveys a real feeling of urgency about it. From here the longest number at over double its length suggests things are getting stabby as ‘Et uhyre av en kniv’ Hoest unveils his ‘Monster Of A Knife.’ Has he saved his most glorious melody till last here? Possibly but the downright viciousness has not been ignored either as he swaggers and snarls away on a mad bloody dash. It’s not one that takes us all the way to the finish line however as a brooding bass line twangs us into some downright sublime guitar harmony, flirting with the cut and thrust of the number before it descends into noisy disharmonious feedback.
Et Hav av Avstand takes a fair few listens to get any real sense of substance especially as its difficult to disengage yourself from anything other than those expressive guitar raptures at first. Once you break down the composite parts though it all makes a bit more sense and the traditional wider reach of the album is guaranteed to please Taake’s ever-expanding fan-base.
(8.5/10 Pete Woods)
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