[Before we start: a significant part of the lyrical content of this album makes (non-explicit/graphic) reference to suicide, child abuse and self-harm, from the child’s perspective. I’ve mentioned but not quoted this in the review, so that readers can make their own choices.]
After all the (mostly) great music I listened to and reviewed in 2023, what better way to start 2024 than with a new album from someone who (albeit just about) unexpectedly snuck into my top 10 of 2023?
In June last year, I reviewed Two Years of Grief from Rise to the Sky, a superbly dense, multi-faceted deathy doom album with more layers than an onion (or an ogre, come to that), that got me right in the emotions in a way that albums of any flavour rarely do. The man behind Rise to the Sky, Sergio González Catalán, is also the man behind My Dearest Wound, because apparently he has a different band for every genre he works in: three in total (so far), with Rise to the Sky being deathy doom, Winds of Tragedy being melodic black/doom, and today’s proposition, My Dearest Wound, being depressive/post black metal. It’s a lot, as is – incidentally – his back catalogue. I’m genuinely not sure the word ‘prolific’ adequately covers the rate at which new music comes out of this man and his castle (according to the liner notes of The Burial, Catalán records in “Sergio’s Castle”, because of course he does). As far as I can work out (by way of the bible, Encyclopaedia Metallum), since 2019, across all three projects he has released a staggering 10 albums, 3 Eps, 1 compilation, and 6 singles. I haven’t felt this overwhelmed by a back catalogue since I spent the afternoon in the bath circa 2010 and missed five new Korpiklaani albums.
Also if, like me, you’ve come here from Rise to the Sky, I hope you also like atmospheric depressive post-black, or you’re going to be shit out of luck here. There’s a passing resemblance to Rise to the Sky (especially to the bonus track at the end, My Light Dies), and a few deathy flourishes, but that’s basically it – you could sell this and Two Years of Grief to me as being by entirely separate artists, and I genuinely don’t think I’d question it all that much. That said, if more Rise to the Sky is what you’re after, I can’t imagine you’ll have to wait that long given Catalán’s release history.
So, having given it its proper context and all the relevant disclaimers/etc, onto The Burial.
The first thing that strikes me is that for most of this album, there are two distinct, and very different, musical threads going on here. There’s a pretty, meandering, ethereal post-black album, with all the blackly glittering spikiness that I know and love the genre for, and then there’s a melancholy, despondently depressive black veneer struggling along over the top. The end result is – unsurprisingly – a little incoherent in places, but generally speaking the two work well together, layering the beautiful with the despairing. Kind of like listening to souls wandering the abyss, where the abyss is darkly beautiful and enchanting, but no less bleak, lonely and inhospitable for it. The despair of the vocals and lead melodies don’t drown out the beauty around them, but likewise the pretty, posty environment doesn’t negate the hopelessness of the depressive black that is front and centre. It reminds me somewhat of the idea that one can be soul-crushingly lonely even in a crowd, because loneliness isn’t really about the presence and number of people, it’s about connections, or the lack thereof.
I’m not going to analyse The Burial to death here, partly because I think it really needs to be taken as a whole, at least to start with, but also because it’s such an experience that I don’t really want to get under its skin and pull it apart, I just want to appreciate it for what it is. And there’s lots to love here.
When Did I Die starts off with the sea, before expanding into a behemoth of sparkly, atmospheric post-black (roughly the midpoint between Souvenirs and Écailles-era Alcest), with some deathy/trad. black riffs lurking around the halfway point. End It All continues in a similar vein, with some rather unexpected proggy influences slipping into the guitar work. The crying is, frankly, a bit much, but the rest of the track is gorgeous. Annihilator starts with a female voice speaking about unpleasant things that have happened in the past, before unfolding into something that is post-something, but I’m not convinced is post-black. A Thousand Goodbyes takes a spikier, more menacing route that sounds more like traditional black, with something like Les Discrets going on in the background. We Don’t Believe in Happiness has similar vibes to the beginning of the album, but with the depressive foreground almost overwhelming the posty background, and the effect is slightly unsettling – you can hear the pretty instrumentals still going, but only just, compared to the outpouring of hopelessness over the top. Towards the end, the top layer drops out rather abruptly, and leads into Dreams, followed by Life Is Pain, which round the album off in much the same way as it started, with the very last couple of minutes being particularly pretty.
Realistically, there’s enough post in here that there was little to no chance I was ever going to actually dislike this album, especially considering how much I loved Two Years of Grief, and yet. It’s still taken me by surprise in some ways. The depressive black elements belong to a genre I’ve never really explored in any great detail (I prefer my black metal to be snarky, deathy and riddled with ice cold contempt for the world and everyone in it, honestly), and while I’m not necessarily going to rush out and acquire more of it, I appreciate it in this context.
Also, despite the depressive part being so front and centre, The Burial – for me, anyway – wasn’t the emotional gut punch that Two Years of Grief was, possibly because the story here is one that I’m lucky enough to not relate to. (Two Years of Grief is about Catalán’s grief over his father’s death; I reviewed it around the 11th anniversary of my own dad’s death, and it absolutely wrecked me, on a level that music rarely does.) There is a trigger warning on the Bandcamp page (hence the one at the start), and the lyrics clearly relate to deeply traumatic childhood experiences, but on the whole the theming is a little on the vague side – possibly because it’s difficult to talk about directly, or the associated memories being unclear or painful. Again though, I’m fortunate enough that I can’t relate to the content of this album, so anyone who is able might find their mileage varies significantly.
Overall, this is a gorgeous album, that belongs to that rare category where I don’t actually want to analyse and review it, I just want to listen to it and appreciate the journey Catalán’s offering to take me on. So that’s what I’m going to do.
(8.5/10 Ellie)
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