Vattnet Viskar are from New Hampshire, and they play black metal. The cold and wooded areas of the tip of the United States can provide just as much of a dark and atmospheric inspiration to musicians as the frozen fjords and vast forests of Norway. About six minutes into Intention/Oblivion, the second of three tracks on the auspicious debut EP from New Englands Vattnet Viskar, the black-metal quartet slinks suddenly away from the expected melee. Drummer Matt St. Jean stops playing altogether, while frontman Nicholas Thornburys pit-of-the-stomach bellow dissipates into a decrescendo. The guitars go quiet, too, now plucking each note of a riff with great patience and from a distance. This oasis of stillness invokes most every metal album ever dubbed atmospheric, epic, or post-anything; of particular relevance, its precisely the kind of two-to-three-minute impasse that split records by black metallurgists like Agalloch, Katatonia, or even Wolves in the Throne Room into dramatic and more relatable sections. But dont press stop, even if it seems youve heard this before. The moment is exactly that-- a moment. After only a few seconds, Vattnet Viskar move along again, the drums building back toward a blast, Alan Sobodachas bass fortifying the plucked riff. The guitars blur, and the band barrels ahead: That bit of gentle pause is instantly, completely forgotten. All of this takes maybe two minutes, meaning that Vattnet Viskar employ an economy thats rare on this side of heavy metal. This three-track, 27-minute EP, for instance, opens with field recordings, tolling bells, and a whispered Latin invocation, a trope-abiding introduction if ever there was one. But after less than 20 seconds of Weakness, the din of a guitars feedback bifurcates the sound of the bells, and the whole intro begins to crumble beneath a bed of electronic rumble, as if Merzbow were behind the mixing board. When it all disappears, Vattnet Viskar steam in at full volume, Thornbury growling lines about emotional vacuity above a gale worthy of Immortal. Once again, what might take their more established peers the better part of your lunchtime takes these upstarts from a small New Hampshire town less than a minute. All this talk of restraint and efficiency might seem strange for a band that closes its debut with the 13-minute Barren Earth. Within that span, though, Vattnet Viskar make several seamless shifts, moving from a foreboding acoustic start into a full-speed shriek, through a razor-wire guitar drone into a beastly closing surge. With each of those phases, they sculpt the forms brittle roar exceptionally well, letting two guitars pull against each other, each clamoring for space and attention. After just 27 minutes of a career, theyve managed to marry ambition and efficiency without a single misstep. - Pitchfork Soon available here: monotonstudio.tictail/
Posted on: Sun, 19 Jan 2014 15:40:41 +0000
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