Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
The Black Metal Gods Return..., April 24, 2007
Whenever Mayhem deliver a new recording, it shakes the foundations of the metal underground. There simply is no band in the field who make music the way Mayhem does; ultra-black, ultra-bleak yet retaining the necessary technical progressive touches. This one, the first to feature Attila since the monumental first full-length, does not disappoint in any way. While Maniac will always be missed, Mayhem remains the greatest metal band and is actually just improving upon their reign here.
Mayhem. The only band that matters.
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9 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Another Fine Dose of Mayhem - 4.5 Stars, May 1, 2007
In the evolution of Mayhem, at least since "Grand Declaration of War," when they transformed from just another excessive black Norwegian metal band into something darker and more intriguing, there has been a constant blending in their music of their usual viciousness and what one wants to call experimental artiness. This artiness, of course, adds to, rather than detracts, from the general nastiness, so those who put "art" and "raw power" at opposite ends of the spectrum might want to hear what they sound like when merged instead.
Released one day before Dimmu Borgir's fantastic "In Sorte Diaboli," one can safely say that it is Mayhem who still carry the spirit of Norwegian black metal in its "pure" or "original" form. Partly, this comes across with a deliberate lack of variation in how the instruments sound, and subsequently their distinctive "garage metal" sound, which Dimmu Borgir have long since abandoned. But it comes across as well in sheer speed and thrash, aided, twisted and warped by a very conscious desire on the band's part to touch deeper chords of metal than metal usually mines.
The album opens with "A Wise Birthgiver," crashing along on ponderous chords. At a momentary pause, something like a dental tool being dragged across teeth accompanies distant, dissonant sawing and heavily echoed drums. Things then ooze around through a cloud of overdrive, and it becomes genuinely unclear where all the sound is heading. In fact, it turns out the whole thing is sheer, gugly ambience, as a build-up to the next song.
"Wall of Water," at 4'40", opens with more ponderous chords, but this time with cascading drums. A tweaky guitar line is then smashed to bits by drums, until typical howling, drilling mayhem starts up. On the face of it, one wants to say this is just the usual sort of thing, but it largely does not sound like it--90% Norwegian black metal plus 10% something else. Two thirds of the way through the song, things calm down considerably, without sacrificing creepiness--again, another example of creating an uneasy musical mood through more than just straight over the top thrashing. Given how the structure of both this song and the opening track break down and constantly fragment into pieces, one suspects the disc's title "Ordo ad Chao" (order to chaos) suggests a very deliberate approach to song-writing.
"Great Work of Ages," at 3'52", again opens up with racing guitars and drums, but almost immediately spins out into something satisfyingly odder. The dental implement seems to return as well and, in fact, the first three songs do all tend to blend together. Sawing, relentless guitars get buried in the background under gasping vocals-- more "buried alive" than "lost in the mix". Another would-be riff rears its head, then almost as quickly dies away again. It emphasizes how there has been nothing on the album so far that resembles a song, not even a chorus or verse, but gestures, pounding drums, sawing, jittery guitars, and many vocal moods. If this sounds unpromising, suffice to say that partly the tension of waiting for a song to come along, and even more so the unsettled mood of all the music, makes for a tense, but weirdly appealing disc.
"Deconsecrate," at 4'07", begins in a very similar vein again, a total wig out on all instruments, including the vocals. After a few seconds, this settles down more or less, with vocals in a sort of preacherly-bellowing register, and the drums clanking along "funkily" on high-hat. In the middle of the song, there is a massive slowdown on heavy drums, but this proves to be a red herring, as the thrash returns with a vengeance. Again, it's this kind of contrast that sets Mayhem apart from the general run of such metal, and even their own earlier albums. The whole thing ends on all-out screaming, and finally brings the whole disc to a full stop, once again making it seem that the album so far is one piece.
"Illuminate Eliminate," at 9'40", is one of the stand-out tracks on the album, and not simply for its length. Opening with one big chord, a few jangly guitar notes, and then a deep cackle that is arbitrarily chopped off, an oozing, Melvins-like riff that seems intent on not letting the ear make sense of it comes in, then breaks off to slow, guttural whispers, and blasting chord contrasts that themselves then melt away into a repeating drum cascade and rising-sun-like note. More semi-random start-stop chords finally usher in what feels like the most conventionally song-like bit so far, held down by a rolling, deep bass death march. In short order, however, the march breaks up into alternating riffs that finally succumb to temptation and simply rip out into another all out assault. Another unsettling "breather" section follows, and then probably the closest thing to a guitar epic that Mayhem will allow themselves. Nevertheless, it is suitably grand. Again, if this all sounds like it could not possibly hang together in any kind of coherent way, then it is to Mayhem's credit that they make it seem inevitable.
"Psychic Horns," at 6'32", like many of its brothers on this album, starts with heavy opening chords that are allowed to die away, but instead of turning into a frenzied avalanche, a downtempo wall of chords are hammered out instead, as the drums in the background (and foreground) gradually become faster and crazier. And once again, in the middle of the song, a full/false stop as seemingly a gateway into one mood then splits open into something else entirely. This new riff then morphs and cranks the thumbscrews tighter and tighter into a strangled, claustrophobic howl of music to end the song. It might be surprising how this disc keeps one on their toes and riveted to the music, but it is precisely such unpredictable changes in direction, tempo and timbre that make it hard to drift off during a song. It generally doesn't make for sustained bouts of head banging; if that's what you're looking for, the "artiness" that the song structures reflect may well be displeasing.
"Key to the Storms," at 3'52", does not necessarily provide any insight into the storms of music Mayhem has provided here, and starts again in the same vein as almost every other song on the disc. The cartoonish wails of someone suffering, alternating with cackling and high-pitched gurgling mostly set this song apart from all the rest.
"Anti," at 4'33", provides no surprises at the outset, while also being blisteringly serious. While the whole disc does not suggest a beginning that is characterized by order, so that "Anti" is the very opposite nadir of that order, even so, it is certainly one of the more chaotically pieced together pieces. However, suddenly, and obviously just to be perverse, at 3 minutes into the song, it ends and seems over, before a low, gurgling vocal note growls out, and gives way to one last semi-epic progression of chords to end everything on a Mayhem-style gesture of black grandeur.
Mayhem has lived up to its name in terms of the antics of its band members (one member murdered another, the self-mutilation the original singer performed onstage ended finally in suicide), but not always musically. With this disc, and their previous (perhaps even better) disc, Chimera, they do indeed over and over provide a musical mayhem that takes positively demonic glee in shattering and tearing to pieces each instance of musical order that temporarily gels in a song, and scattering its pieces all over your speakers in a chaos of sound. The result is surprisingly effective, and surprisingly interest-sustaining. Perhaps since no song ever really seems to quite start, none ever really quite seems to end either, so that the listener suspended and left to be buffeted all sides by drums, vocals, guitars and mayhem.
It may well be, if you are looking for "songs" in a usual sense of the word, or if a wide variety of sounds from a band's instruments (and especially the guitar) is what you really like in a disc, then this may well not be your cup of tea. The whole effect of the album, it seems, is in the unhinged variations away from a few core ideas, with the vocals providing the widest range of variation. As such, it seems like the album is meant to be listened to in its entirety every time. At only 40 minutes, this is very doable, but the shortness of the disc may also put some off.
NOTE: Amazon says this disc is "Ordo ab Chao"; in fact, it is "Ordo ad Chao"
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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Another Fine Dose of Mayhem - 4.5 Stars, April 30, 2007
In the evolution of Mayhem, at least since "Grand Declaration of War," when they transformed from just another excessive black Norwegian metal band into something darker and more intriguing, there has been a constant blending in their music of their usual viciousness and what one wants to call experimental artiness. This artiness, of course, adds to, rather than detracts, from the general nastiness, so those who put "art" and "raw power" at opposite ends of the spectrum might want to hear what they sound like when merged instead.
Released one day before Dimmu Borgir's fantastic "In Sorte Diaboli," one can safely say that it is Mayhem who still carry the spirit of Norwegian black metal in its "pure" or "original" form. Partly, this comes across with a deliberate lack of variation in how the instruments sound, and subsequently their distinctive "garage metal" sound, which Dimmu Borgir have long since abandoned. But it comes across as well in sheer speed and thrash, aided, twisted and warped by a very conscious desire on the band's part to touch deeper chords of metal than metal usually mines.
The album opens with "A Wise Birthgiver," crashing along on ponderous chords. At a momentary pause, something like a dental tool being dragged across teeth accompanies distant, dissonant sawing and heavily echoed drums. Things then ooze around through a cloud of overdrive, and it becomes genuinely unclear where all the sound is heading. In fact, it turns out the whole thing is sheer, gugly ambience, as a build-up to the next song.
"Wall of Water," at 4'40", opens with more ponderous chords, but this time with cascading drums. A tweaky guitar line is then smashed to bits by drums, until typical howling, drilling mayhem starts up. On the face of it, one wants to say this is just the usual sort of thing, but it largely does not sound like it--90% Norwegian black metal plus 10% something else. Two thirds of the way through the song, things calm down considerably, without sacrificing creepiness--again, another example of creating an uneasy musical mood through more than just straight over the top thrashing. Given how the structure of both this song and the opening track break down and constantly fragment into pieces, one suspects the disc's title "Ordo ad Chao" (order to chaos) suggests a very deliberate approach to song-writing.
"Great Work of Ages," at 3'52", again opens up with racing guitars and drums, but almost immediately spins out into something satisfyingly odder. The dental implement seems to return as well and, in fact, the first three songs do all tend to blend together. Sawing, relentless guitars get buried in the background under gasping vocals-- more "buried alive" than "lost in the mix". Another would-be riff rears its head, then almost as quickly dies away again. It emphasizes how there has been nothing on the album so far that resembles a song, not even a chorus or verse, but gestures, pounding drums, sawing, jittery guitars, and many vocal moods. If this sounds unpromising, suffice to say that partly the tension of waiting for a song to come along, and even more so the unsettled mood of all the music, makes for a tense, but weirdly appealing disc.
"Deconsecrate," at 4'07", begins in a very similar vein again, a total wig out on all instruments, including the vocals. After a few seconds, this settles down more or less, with vocals in a sort of preacherly-bellowing register, and the drums clanking along "funkily" on high-hat. In the middle of the song, there is a massive slowdown on heavy drums, but this proves to be a red herring, as the thrash returns with a vengeance. Again, it's this kind of contrast that sets Mayhem apart from the general run of such metal, and even their own earlier albums. The whole thing ends on all-out screaming, and finally brings the whole disc to a full stop, once again making it seem that the album so far is one piece.
"Illuminate Eliminate," at 9'40", is one of the stand-out tracks on the album, and not simply for its length. Opening with one big chord, a few jangly guitar notes, and then a deep cackle that is arbitrarily chopped off, an oozing, Melvins-like riff that seems intent on not letting the ear make sense of it comes in, then breaks off to slow, guttural whispers, and blasting chord contrasts that themselves then melt away into a repeating drum cascade and rising-sun-like note. More semi-random start-stop chords finally usher in what feels like the most conventionally song-like bit so far, held down by a rolling, deep bass death march. In short order, however, the march breaks up into alternating riffs that finally succumb to temptation and simply rip out into another all out assault. Another unsettling "breather" section follows, and then probably the closest thing to a guitar epic that Mayhem will allow themselves. Nevertheless, it is suitably grand. Again, if this all sounds like it could not possibly hang together in any kind of coherent way, then it is to Mayhem's credit that they make it seem inevitable.
"Psychic Horns," at 6'32", like many of its brothers on this album, starts with heavy opening chords that are allowed to die away, but instead of turning into a frenzied avalanche, a downtempo wall of chords are hammered out instead, as the drums in the background (and foreground) gradually become faster and crazier. And once again, in the middle of the song, a full/false stop as seemingly a gateway into one mood then splits open into something else entirely. This new riff then morphs and cranks the thumbscrews tighter and tighter into a strangled, claustrophobic howl of music to end the song. It might be surprising how this disc keeps one on their toes and riveted to the music, but it is precisely such unpredictable changes in direction, tempo and timbre that make it hard to drift off during a song. It generally doesn't make for sustained bouts of head banging; if that's what you're looking for, the "artiness" that the song structures reflect may well be displeasing.
"Key to the Storms," at 3'52", does not necessarily provide any insight into the storms of music Mayhem has provided here, and starts again in the same vein as almost every other song on the disc. The cartoonish wails of someone suffering, alternating with cackling and high-pitched gurgling mostly set this song apart from all the rest.
"Anti," at 4'33", provides no surprises at the outset, while also being blisteringly serious. While the whole disc does not suggest a beginning that is characterized by order, so that "Anti" is the very opposite nadir of that order, even so, it is certainly one of the more chaotically pieced together pieces. However, suddenly, and obviously just to be perverse, at 3 minutes into the song, it ends and seems over, before a low, gurgling vocal note growls out, and gives way to one last semi-epic progression of chords to end everything on a Mayhem-style gesture of black grandeur.
Mayhem has lived up to its name in terms of the antics of its band members (one member murdered another, the self-mutilation the original singer performed onstage ended finally in suicide), but not always musically. With this disc, and their previous (perhaps even better) disc, Chimera, they do indeed over and over provide a musical mayhem that takes positively demonic glee in shattering and tearing to pieces each instance of musical order that temporarily gels in a song, and scattering its pieces all over your speakers in a chaos of sound. The result is surprisingly effective, and surprisingly interest-sustaining. Perhaps since no song ever really seems to quite start, none ever really quite seems to end either, so that the listener suspended and left to be buffeted all sides by drums, vocals, guitars and mayhem.
It may well be, if you are looking for "songs" in a usual sense of the word, or if a wide variety of sounds from a band's instruments (and especially the guitar) is what you really like in a disc, then this may well not be your cup of tea. The whole effect of the album, it seems, is in the unhinged variations away from a few core ideas, with the vocals providing the widest range of variation. As such, it seems like the album is meant to be listened to in its entirety every time. At only 40 minutes, this is very doable, but the shortness of the disc may also put some off.
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