Svalbard hark from the west-country of England, having formed in 2011. A spate of demos and split releases from 2012 to 2014 led to two albums in 2015 and 2018, each release representing a progression of both the band’s sound and audience, incorporating an array of influences and gaining wider attention. 2020s “When I Die, Will I Get Better?” brought the band further attention, and well-earned critical acclaim for their unflinching approach to social issues.
Previous albums lyrical matter has indeed seen the band weigh-in heavily on political issues and social injustices, however none of that is present here. I daresay that it’s no coincidence that the UK political and economic shit-scape of the past couple of years has been enough drive even the most ardent activists to shun in despair. And despair is something that Svalbard bring in spades here; the lyrics on “The Weight Of The Mask” are without doubt the darkest, direct and most disconsolate that Serena Cherry has composed throughout the evolution of Svalbard.
All is not actually lost however, as all of this sullen verse is juxtaposed with uplifting lead guitar melodies offering hope and redemption. The album delivers an immediate one-two sucker-punch of bangers in “Faking It” and “Eternal Spirits”, the latter’s “We carry your torch aflame, now that you’re gone” chorus providing a heartfelt tribute to prominent rock and metal musicians lost in recent years.
Standing out for me straight away is the percussion of Mark Lilley; it’s a much puncher affair than previous releases, both in terms of production and performance. Ever-capable of holding down a backbeat, the drummer showcases incredible flexibility and dynamics in his fills on this opening duo. Undeniably, a band that once cut their teeth on D-beats now display a flair for solid grooves, marking a similar rhythmic progression to that once charted by Corrosion Of Conformity (albeit likely with less weed and more shoegaze). New(ish) bassist Matt Francis completes the rhythm section, locking in well with Lilley; hopefully he’ll stay for a while, as Svalbard’s revolving bassist spot was beginning to rival the similarly inconsistent (though fictitious) drum-stool of Spinal Tap (minus spontaneous human combustion).
In the vocal department, Liam Phelan is starting to give (Obituary frontman) John Tardy a run for his money, whilst Serena’s throaty “Rita Repulsa” (Power Rangers baddie) rasp is stronger than ever. They combine to great effect on tunes like “Defiance”, contrasting and complimenting each other simultaneously. Experimenting further with something different vocally, the nonchalant and resentful spoken-word delivery on “November” honestly makes it one of the gloomiest, downtrodden, doom-laden songs I’ve ever laid my ears on. It’s so beautifully fucking miserable, and so relatable; My Dying Bride would be proud of this one. As mentioned earlier though, redemption is ever nigh; the layered, deftly-picked clean guitar melodies and “head down, barriers up, nothing can pierce through an armour this tough” mantra build to a crescendo that explode into an urgent blastbeat section with tremolo-picked Celtic harmonies.
“Lights Out” displays how Svalbard have progressed and matured to encompass the song-writing dynamism and riffage of modern traditional metal bands such as Trivium, offset with their own unique take on minor-key melodic riffs and leads, and unashamedly frank lyrics; “I am too depressed to show you how depressed I am”. “How To Swim Down” is a bit more optimistic, a ballad underpinned by Liam’s haunting violin piece in another first for the band. Folks may have seen a recent video posted by the band on social media, bashfully describing how the lyrics to this tune are a lament on unrequited love, albeit from the perspective of a healer-class character from World Of Warcraft. Citizens of Metaldom take heed; MORE OF THIS UNASHAMED NERDINESS PLEASE!
“Be My Tomb” picks up the pace again, followed by the bittersweet “Pillar in the Sand”, a wonderful example of everything great about Svalbard in a single package; solid riffs, delicate shoegazing melodies with reflectively moody sung lyrics, which eventually give way to thunderous rhythms. Fittingly on this album of firsts, this Svalbard album is the first not to end on a shoe-gazy ballad-like note. “To Wilt Beneath the Weight” is another mid-pace stomper, delivered with solid riffs, dynamic percussion and Cherry’s hyper-efficient tremolo-picking technique, closing out the album with chiming melody.
Another solid and rewarding piece of work from this constantly surprising band; as much as I hope that the process has proved cathartic for those that crafted it, such misery has never been so enjoyable.
(8.5/10 Doogz)
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