The misanthropic Massive are angry. They’re waging war. Indie labels are releasing black metal records and god-be-damned some of them are shitloads more exciting, raw, emotive and out there than anything recorded on a four-track in a graveyard this year. Ok, except for the new Wolves in the Throne Room, which I’ll bang on about another day.
What sets Liturgy apart is the very thing the corpse-painted hordes are so pissed off about; frontman Hunter Hunt-Hendrix’s belief that Black Metal doesn’t have to be nihilistic and grim, that in fact its its otherworldly nature has the capacity to ‘transcend’ natural states in a positive manner. Do some internet research, the blogo-sphere loves a good beef.
Personally this Zen like aspect of Black Metal is exactly what I’ve always loved about it. The way repetitive, buzzing guitars and drums become hypnotic and dare I say supernatural. Liturgy have honed this down to a fine art comprised of spastically fast drum work and intricate, cyclic, soprano guitar patterns that weave about into an astral ride into the ether.
Take True Will, a thick slab of sound, everything enmeshed and gut wrenching like some power electronics monster. Hendrix howls away incoherently deep in the mix. And the hook, if you can call it that, is one atonal note repeated into oblivion after every verse, and then repeated beyond oblivion in the track’s climax. It’s like amphetamine Krautrock; like My Disco and Shellac on steroids. There’s a definite noise-rock element at play here, which might explain why 20 Buck Spin released Liturgy’s debut a few years back.
Meanwhile, Sun of Light spends its first three minutes creating a tapestry of damaged upper fret board guitar work that rides a lazy pulse, and once you’ve drifted away on its awkward clouds it explodes into a zig zagging frenzy of scales and blast beats. You can’t transcend forever.
The instrumental Generation rides a single riff for nigh seven minutes, relying on shifting drum patterns to alter the atmosphere. Generation takes you dangerously close to the edge, poising you for madness and boredom before the beauty of its minimalism takes hold and off you go, losing yourself in the moment. It’s no mistake that the album is peppered with Gregorian chants and miscellaneous religious mantras; the original transcendental music.
Most likely, those with no appreciation for music that sits even remotely close to the realm of Metal will find Liturgy and their schtick hard to take. Aesthethica demands repeat listens before any of its meditative hooks get under your skin. However, the best music is that which rewards you over time and if you’re willing to give up your inhibitions or your ‘true’ Black Metal allegiances, and if you’re willing to get over the fact that Liturgy’s main man goes by the name Hunter Hunt-Hendrix then there’s plenty of treasure in Aesthethica. Go forth and transcend.