There are certain areas of history, culture and the world in general that I maintain are criminally underexplored in metal of any flavour: the weird and wonderful world of spiders, the unsettling astrophysics of black holes and other intergalactic terrors, cryptids and other Forteana, and many others besides. One that’s always stood out to me, especially in the context of just how much folk and mythology based metal there is out there, is the cultures and mythologies of Central and South America. Seriously – look at the history of the Inca, Aztec, Olmec, Mixtec, Sican and umpteen other groups that have called that corner of the world home, and tell me there isn’t a multitude of stellar metal albums to be made out of it all. Like the Peruvian valley (Lambayeque) full of peculiar flattened hills with evidence of extensive fire damage, long distrusted by the locals, that eventually turned out to be the remains of a Sican settlement that is also one of the greatest concentrations of pyramids in a single spot anywhere in the world (roughly 250). A settlement (Túcume, if you want to look it up) that was deliberately destroyed (possibly ritually) with fire when the rains – and therefore the gods and priests – failed repeatedly, and the population were increasingly desperate. There’s an episode of Lost City of the Ancients about it, and frankly the whole thing’s really unsettling. But also, a concept album begging to be made, surely?
Into this very particular breach, step Ershetu. The brainchild of Borknagar’s Lars Are Nedland, Blut Aus Nord’s Vindsval and a handful of others, with the description/mission statement of “[c]onceptions of death in various cultures”, through the medium of progressive black metal. In this episode of The Ancients vs. Proggy Black Metal, they’re exploring the Mayan concept of death, by way of sacred Mayan text Popul Vuh, which is definitely not a subject I was ever expecting to have to cover in a metal review, I’ll be honest. Not that I object to the research and thoroughness in the slightest, but I do have an existing interest in the ancient cultures of the Americas, plus a habit of falling down research rabbit holes at the slightest of provocations, and well, this album is absolutely riddled with them. To the point where I haven’t actually listened to the music properly, because every time I put it on, I end up looking something up, and then one thing leads to another. Then, suddenly, it’s 3am, I’ve got approximately 1202 tabs open, I’m not sure what day it is, and I swear I’ll go to bed when I’ve finished reading this thing about water management systems in 10th century Mesoamerica. Oh, and I love the album, but buggered if I can currently tell you a damn thing about why, beyond “perfect music for obsessive research into death in ancient American cultures”, which it really is.
So, here we go. No Google, Wikipedia or “I’m just going to look up-” until I’ve really got the measure of this album. Or at the very least, until I can adequately explain why it’s so good. Because it is.
First up, before we get into track one: do not adjust your set. Track one, Enter the Palace of Masks, takes a little while to kick in, but when it does, it’s with a hypnotic drumbeat that pulls you further and further into the heart of the album, and combines with whistles and chanting to make for a superb bit of scene-setting. It’s very distinctly Mesoamerican, even without the evocative artwork and titles, and it doesn’t so much tell you a story, as try and give you the experience itself. This is a theme throughout the album, and we’ll get more into it later.
Now the opening is all very well and good and compelling, but at this point you might be asking where’s the black metal I was promised? Track two, From Corn to Dust answers that with what I can only describe as aplomb, where the previous slightly ominous soundscape melds with a fuzzy, seething whirlwind of black metal. The overall effect is, quite frankly, astonishing, and it’s not hard to see why this was The Single. Then track three, The Place of Fright, which is actually the English translation of Xibalba, which is the Mayan name for the underworld, continues in a similar, albeit more melodic vein, but still with that beat and overall rhythm that drives you forward. Cult of the Snake God is more of the same, but with some harsh vocals creeping in that, bizarrely, I’m actually not a fan of in this context. Compared to the instrumentation, percussion, and clean vocals, they jolt me out of the experience slightly, and remind me that I am ultimately listening to a black metal album.
Hollow Earth starts off on a very different note, with a quiet, introspective introduction before the onslaught kicks off again. This is one of the more chaotic parts of the album, and given that Xibalba is meant to contain various delightful rivers (of scorpions, blood, and pus, respectively), I can believe that this track is trying to be the aural equivalent of a river of scorpions. Or just the sensory overload that ritual and religion in a culture like that of the Maya would almost certainly have been: equal parts terrifying, profound, beautiful, life-changing, and just generally a writhing, pounding mass of sound, smells, colours, people and beliefs.
Finally, Tunkuluchú loops back round to the beginning in many ways, only this time there’s that black metal assault exploding a few minutes in, that could so easily be a particularly frenzied section of the ceremony. Everything gets a bit weird towards the end, as the finale crashes along in glorious crescendo and climax, interspersed with lighter interludes that provide brief respite, but also emphasise the cacophony going on either side. Then one of these lighter, whistle-heavy sections takes over, and fades into nothing, for all the world like someone wandering off into the distance, full to the brim with whatever they’ve just experienced. Then, suddenly, we’re back approaching the Palace of Masks and much like the cycle of Life and Death itself…it begins again.
[Life tip: listening to albums on repeat play can add a surprising amount to the listening experience.]
So, there we have it: Xibalba. In all it’s mad, overwhelming, chaotic glory. As I said earlier, Ershetu aren’t telling you a story here, they’re trying to give you an experience. There’s no real plot here, there’s no characters, just a sensory experience that you can choose to engage with, or not. And Ershetu have said as much themselves, explaining that this album is them exploring ideas from the Popul Vuh, “not as a historical or ethnological lesson, but to vividly transport listeners into a tumultuous ancient world, where Life and Death were perpetually intertwined”.
The closest metal reference point I have for this sentiment is the spoken word track on Turisas’ first album (Battle Metal), Prologue for R.R.R. (Rex Rebi Rebellis), which has always stayed with me for much the same reason that I love Xibalba. In it, Warlord quotes the opening of Zacharias Topelius’s, The Surgeon’s Stories: Times of Gustaf Adolf, and asks if you are willing to experience history properly. Not flitting from one big, exciting event to the next according to what you’re personally interested in, but to live alongside real people, experience the joy and misery of their everyday lives, and ultimately:
“[T]o hate with them, to love with them, to be transported, to admire, to despise, to curse as they have done. In a word, to live among them with your whole heart, and not alone with your cold, reflecting judgement”.
Now, I’m aware that seems like a lot for an album review, and it…kind of is, but what I’m getting at is the difference between reciting history, and diving headfirst into it, to try and see how it looked to the people who lived it. The people who lived in that past, held those beliefs, and didn’t know how it all ended. Countless metal bands do the former, but the latter is far rarer. Ershetu’s attempt at recreating something of the ancient Mayan experience isn’t perfect – ultimately it never can be, because we’ll never know enough to recreate it exactly – but it is fascinating, and more of a sensory experience than a straightforward metal album. Just don’t try and do anything else while you’re listening to it, because as I found when I kept going off on research tangents, the overall effect is subtle enough that it disappears into the background all too easily. It’s worth carving out the 45 minutes to give it your full attention though, and I for one can’t wait to see where this outfit takes us next.
(9/10 Ellie)
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