Review: Winterfylleth Speak Prophecies of Impending Darkness on The Imperious Horizon
When I think of black metal, specifically really good black metal, I think of a perfect balance being struck between atmosphere and dissonance. You can’t have too much of one or the other, but with the right dosage and a mastery of ebb and flow, all of a sudden, that’s when the magic happens. To me, good black metal feels like being transported to some barren yet majestic landscape that seems to contain an ancient, unknowable wisdom. Despite the knee-jerk association, it almost feels like a cop-out to simply go with the established trope of Satan and apocalyptic hellfire; black metal is so much more than that, especially in this day and age.
That being said, there does need to be a sort of dark, menacing beauty to it as well. It is art, after all. I like the kind of black metal that’s almost cinematic in nature, grandiose in both vision and execution. The Imperious Horizon, the newest full-length from the UK’s own Winterfylleth, is a great example of that mentality in motion; it’s ominous, giving voice to the fear of some unknown but powerful and inevitable dark force just beyond the proverbial horizon, but it’s also oddly soothing at times, and that dichotomy is nothing if not impactful.
Now, I know I just said that you can’t have too much atmosphere, but then again, we all know that black metal is all about atmosphere in just about all of its many iterations, and this album is no exception. In fact, “atmospheric” is probably the easiest single word that one could use to accurately sum it up. It wouldn’t be what it is without it. The thing is, though, excessive atmosphere can easily lead to a sort of droning monotony which overpowers everything else, no matter how intense the rest of the music is. The key to a generous helping of atmosphere is to counteract it with something else, or more accurately, to give it something to compliment rather than making it itself the star of the show.
A telltale sign that an album has hit that sweet spot is when the songs don’t feel as long as they actually are. Time is relative, so when you’re able to make seven-minute-plus songs like “Dishonour Enthroned”, the title track, or the 11-minute odyssey “In Silent Grace” pass by in what feels like a fraction of that time, that’s how you know the band are on to something. With that in mind, this is an excellent album for throwing on in the background while working or doing whatever it is you need to do to keep your hands busy, because it allows plenty of opportunity to tune in and out without feeling like you’ve missed anything as a result. Much like the mountains on the album cover (which is positively gorgeous, by the way), the changes happen slowly and accumulate over time, and the end result is something as aesthetically pleasing as it is intimidating.
A lot of this can be attributed to Mark Deeks’ subtle yet highly effective use of the keyboards, often hanging back to provide an understated but integral outer layer which serves to accentuate the rest of the music, but when the time is right and the space allows for it, suddenly they become the driving force for the overall melody. It never feels like a sudden or jarring shift, only tasteful and measured.
The rest of the music, while definitely highly polished and expertly executed, does tend to get a little same-y after a while, but like I said, I found that a lot of that has to do with the surroundings that you find yourself in while listening to it. If you’re just sitting there focusing entirely on the music, then yes, this album would probably seem to move like molasses, but if you were to listen to it while performing a task or going on a hike or something like that, then it instantly takes on an entirely different dynamic, and a very agreeable one at that. It’s almost like this album was made for that sort of thing.
However, that’s not to say that there aren’t moments that jump out and grab your attention as well. The biggest one, which we would be remiss to not talk about, is the stellar guest performance by legendary Primordial vocalist A.A. Nemtheanga on the sixth track “In Silent Grace”, whose harsh, gravelly, bellowing melodies provide a stark contrast to Chris Naughton’s coarse, throat-rending shrieks. Best of all, there are actually two separate versions of this song on the album; there’s the original version where both vocalists trade off with each other periodically, and then a bonus track at the very end with just Nemtheanga doing the whole thing by himself. Whatever your fancy, they’ve got you covered.
And speaking of bonus tracks, it pretty much goes without saying that their cover of Emperor’s “The Majesty of the Nightsky” is simply sublime. It more than does justice to the original, but also gives it just the slightest bit of spit-shine polish in terms of production to help it fall in line with the rest of the album. It’s a nice little change of pace, spicing things up towards the end and breaking up the quote-unquote “monotony”, for lack of a better term. I mean, come on, it’s Emperor, of course it’s gonna rule (no pun intended).
Simply put, The Imperious Horizon is a classic example of really well-done black metal. It’s epic, mournful, bleakly poetic, immaculately produced, and has just the right amount of kick to carry the momentum all the way through to the end. It’s nothing we haven’t heard before and will surely hear again, but it does what it does very well, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters. One thing’s for sure: listening to it on repeat certainly made my work go by that much faster and smoother, and in all that time I never once got tired of it, so that should tell you all you need to know. It might be relentlessly depressing and more than a little bit ominous in its themes, but damn if it doesn’t package them up and present them in an alluring way.
The Imperious Horizon is available now via Candlelight Records, order your copy here
