Tag Archives: audioscrobbler

Ten Years #26: Summoning

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
26. Summoning (1,154 plays)
Top track (86 plays): Menegroth, from Oath Bound (2006)
Featured track: Ashen Cold, from Let Mortal Heroes Sing Your Fame (2001)

Blind Guardian’s Nightfall in Middle-Earth might be the most inspired musical retelling of any of J.R.R. Tolkien’s works to date, but no band has crafted an atmospheric sound to capture that world quite so convincingly as Summoning. With a sound that would just as soon excite fans of video game music or “new age” artists like David Arkenstone as their orginal black metal fan base, Summoning have forged a truly unique musical path. While their first studio album, Lugburz (1995), was relatively standard for the synth-laden black metal of its day, they nearly finalized the sound that made them famous on Minas Morgul, released later that same year. Since then, the only perceptible change has been a slow decline in the use of tremolo guitar; the quality of the songwriting and the imaginative world it invokes has remained pretty consistently superb.

For me at least, Summoning and Tolkien’s fantasy world have become nearly inseparable. The echoing, tribal drums paint vast landscapes cast dark by distorted vocals and guitar. The synth speckles the scene in a light that, never breaching the world of full orchestration, retains a fantasy aspect through its unnatural sound. The lyrics enliven the music with the spirit of an epic tale–whether it be the dramatic narrated loop on on “South Away”–“By the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!”–the water god Ulmo’s bold proclamations on “Farewell”–Who can tell you the age of the moon? But I can! Who can call the fish from the depths of the sea? Yes, I can! Who can change the shapes of the hills and the headlands? I can!–or the spirit of perseverance on the track here featured–“Though his body is not tall and his courage seems small, his fame will take long to fade.”

Tolkien’s greatest achievement was to craft a fantasy world so vast that imaginative minds ever since have managed to forge a place within it. Summoning have done so with a level of excellence nearly unrivaled, and they continue to today. There might have been a seven year gap between Oath Bound (2006) and Old Mornings Dawn (2013), but their new release is in every way on par with the rest. It’s a bit of a wonder that they’re only ranked 26th on my decade-spanning last.fm charts. I suspect that, another ten years from now, they’ll be much nearer the top, because their music takes me to a place that is eternal.

Ten Years #27: Alcest

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
27. Alcest (1,127 plays)
Top track (154 plays): Souvenirs d’un autre monde, from Souvenirs d’un autre monde (2007)
Featured track: Là Où Naissent Les Couleurs Nouvelles, from Les Voyages De L’Âme (2012)

About two years ago I passed up a rare opportunity to strike up a one on one conversation with a musician I admire to no end. Alcest had just finished opening for Enslaved on their 2011 U.S. tour, and I stumbled upon Neige idling in the outdoor smoking lounge, standing exposed in the middle without a pesky fan in sight. I’m not the sort to pester someone over a stupid autograph, and I couldn’t think of a question worth asking on the spur of the moment, so I let the opportunity pass. But if I could have it back again, I would ask him what bands he’d been listening to when he recorded Le Secret (2005). Influence has been a hot topic for Alcest interviews ever since Neige denied any knowledge of shoegaze music at the release of Souvenirs d’un autre monde (2007). He responded to the comparisons by actively engaging a lot of relevant 80s and early 1990s bands, such that the perceived similarities lead to real influence down the road. I don’t think that is as apparent in his more recent works as some fans would like to believe; in Alcest, Neige produces the sort of uniqueness and quality that transcends genres. Nevertheless, my fascination with the history of music begs the question. Le Secret delivered what I wanted with a unique innocence that could only ever succeed once, and it certainly wasn’t “shoegaze” that paved the way for it.

Le Secret rather felt to me like something the black metal scene was destined to produce sooner or later. I’d been craving it since I first heard Ulver’s “Of Wolf and Passion”. If black metal had always been more about De Mysteriis than Dom Sathanas, “Le Secret” was the final incantation–the first real invocation in a world of petty summoners. Le Secret battered down the stereotyped walls, presenting a glorious first glimpse at what dwelt beyond that meditative barrier of blast beats and tremolo. On Souvenirs d’un autre monde and beyond, Neige gave us a beautiful vision of just how that world appeared to him, and he continues to improve on it with each new release. “Là Où Naissent Les Couleurs Nouvelles”, the 2012 track here featured, might be his most encompassing song to date.

Don’t get me wrong. Neige was certainly not the first black metal artist to think outside the box. The Ukrainian black metal scene especially had been doing it for years. But I feel like Neige’s artistic accomplishment and subsequent popularity really paved the way towards a widespread abandonment of black metal’s pseudo-machismo persona in exchange for the artistry necessary to accomplish a more sublime beauty and brutality alike. If we are ever going to speak of “post-black metal” or some “third wave” supplanting the early 1990s establishment, it began in 2005 and 2006 with the likes of Alcest and Agalloch. It is only an odd coincidence that the term “shoegaze” has regained popularity outside of metal and adopted new definitions. I look at Alcest not as a merging of two styles, but as a change in mindset which has empowered countless bands over the last few years to let their novel ideas be heard and widely distributed.

Le Secret will always be my favorite Alcest recording because of its timeliness and audible obliviousness to this transition which was slowly gaining ground. But perhaps I’ve beat that horse to death over the past few years. When I listen to Les Voyages De L’Âme (2012), I hear a musician in his prime, undeterred by the expectations of any particular genre, who has successfully improved with every new album. Alcest’s sixth major release, Shelter, should be coming out some time later this year, and I have really high hopes.

Ten Years #28: Týr

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
28. Týr (1,101 plays)
Top track (75 plays): Hail to the Hammer, from various albums
Featured track: Regin Smiður, from Eric the Red (2003)

Viking metal, pagan metal, folk metal, call it what you will–it’s pretty impressive that Týr have managed to capture an extraordinary vision of the Norse past with absolutely no traditional instrumentation or synth choruses to speak of save the human voice. Since their second album, Eric the Red, Týr have revolved around Heri Joensen’s breathtaking vocals. Their unique brand of progressive rock instrumentation is heavy enough to blast out your stereo and yet entirely subservient to the driving vocal anthems. I would be very interested to gain a better understanding of where Joensen’s dedication to tradition gives way to his unique creativity as one of the most innovative musicians making music today–of the extent to which his vocals are derived from Faroese tradition. With an educational background in both vocals and Indo-European linguistics, he probably has a better idea than most of how traditional Germanic and Norse singing must have sounded, and I feel a sense of solidarity between the band and other students of folk vocalization such as Latvia’s Skyforger. At the same time, I gather that Norse musical tradition is a far more elusive beast than its eastern counterparts.

As a modern band, Týr seem to me the most central act of the whole “viking metal” scene. The term is a bit of a ruse, in so far as it lacks both the stylistic conformity of most genre labels and the acknowledged generality of catch-alls like “folk metal”. Whether a band might garner the label depends upon so many nuance factors that it is much easier to agree upon which acts ought to receive it than to discuss why. Attempts to properly define it are few and far between. The Wikipedia article on “viking metal”, for instance, is largely substantiated by a thesis on folk metal submitted by Aaron Patrick Mulvany in 2000. That is only 12 years removed from Bathory’s Blood Fire Death–now a quarter of a century behind us–and two years prior to one of the most significant bands of the “genre”‘s debut. With the utmost respect for anyone who acknowledges folk metal as a legitimate subject for scholarship (I’m looking forward to reading Mulvany’s thesis, available online, over the next few days), I would ascribe to him the gift of prophecy were it not hopelessly dated. But while I would say that Bathory was fundamentally black metal, Amon Amarth death metal at their core, Falkenbach hopelessly under-appreciated, and Thyrfing given to fantasy, the inherent catch-all-ism of progressive metal (not the Dream Theater worship standardized derivative) lends to Týr a sense of authentic originality. As a metal act they do their own thing, and that makes their tradition-influenced vocals and lyrics emerge with no strings attached.

Týr’s music is neither too confrontational nor too fanciful to be generally accessible. They are, in the very least, the first band I would recommend to an inexperienced listener who asked me what specifically Norse-derived folk metal sounded like. Their sound bleeds an authentic scholarly interest in Norse culture and plugs the myriad gaps with progressive rock that is both down to earth and impressively original. You’ll find no fallback to Tolkien here (album cover aside), and no hell-raising or Transylvanian hunger either; it’s something a bit more Apollonian, and exciting all the same. If I could pick any one artist to spend an evening in a pub with, Heri Joensen may very well top my list.

Ten Years #29: Therion

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
39. Therion (1,059 plays)
Top track (81 plays): The Siren of the Woods, from Theli (1997)
Featured track: Vanaheim, from Secret of the Runes (2001)

Therion is an interesting animal in the world of metal. In a lot of ways, Christofer Johnsson’s brainchild derives from forms of music that don’t much suit me. The harsher vocals are firmly rooted in his death metal origins, the guitar riffs and drumming waver between metal and a softer “hard rock” sound, and 80s-inspired over the top solos flourish throughout the discography. Yet all of these typical turn-offs for me shake their negative connotations and merge rather seamlessly with Johnsson’s greater operatic vision. For the majority of Therion’s 26 year history, Johnsson has been forging his own unique path through the world of theatrical rock by infusing fairly typical stylistic norms with outstanding song writing. I can’t help but fear at times that Therion may descend to the quality of another boring Trans-Siberian Orchestra, but they never do. Across 15 studio albums, Johnsson continually manages to find compelling new ways to make the peculiar marriage of rock and opera somehow work.

I’ll admit to not being a huge Therion fan. The vast majority of the 1000+ listens that render them my 29th most-listened-to band of the past decade came in 2003 and 2004, when the individual elements of their sound were still a bit novel to me. I never did get around to picking up Sitra Ahra or Les Fleurs du Mal. But I’ve heard enough to confidently state that Johnsson is one of the finest song-writers to seriously approach the possibilities of combining rock with classical styles. Secret of the Runes is my personal favorite album in his discography. There, I think Johnsson really let the opera be heavy in its own right; it’s frequently more intense and driving than the traditional metal instrumentation accompanying it.

Ten Years #30: The Smashing Pumpkins

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
30. The Smashing Pumpkins (1,058 plays)
Top track (36 plays): I of the Mourning, from Machina: The Machines of God (2000)

2000 might have been one of the most optimistic years in American history. Bill Clinton was still president, the massive corporate effort to overcome a Y2K electronic doomsday scenario had succeeded impressively, the medical field was speeding towards a glimmering utopian future of nanobots and stem cell technology, and we had just wrapped up the Kosovo conflict to conclude a rare decade characterized more by sincere humanitarian intervention than by capitalist imperialism. Though we would soon plummet back to the social and political stone age in successive waves of decadence, this naive teenager’s outlook on the future was a dreamy ideal of progress. If there was trouble in the air, I never felt it. Whatever concerns the future might bring were fundamentally tied to it, not to the here and now.

Every Smashing Pumpkins album struck me in a fairly unique way. Each Siamese Dream track seemed like an overwhelming independent entity; I would get hung up on a song like “Rocket” and listen to it over and over again for days before moving on to the next. Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness I enjoyed more as a collective, basking in the roller coaster romp from ecstasy to sadness to rage that characterized juxtapositions like “Thru the Eyes of Ruby”, “Stumbleine”, and “x.y.u.” Adore kind of washed over me as a kid, and while I appreciate it more today, I will never quite get over the absence of Jimmy Chamberlin.

On Machina: The Machines of God, I think the vision of an album really overtook the band. Each song felt like a part of the collective to a greater degree than ever before. The highs and lows were all subdued. There was more total sound encompassing everything, while the edges of the heaviest tracks were dulled–while “We Only Come Out At Night” and “Tales of a Scorched Earth” certainly belong together as elements of a greater emotional road trip, “With Every Light” and “Heavy Metal Machines” were substantially closer in their musical approach and production. If Mellon Collie was a pendulum swinging violently between beauty and aggression, Machina rocked gently and subtly around its zen point. I fell in love with it even more than with Mellon Collie or Siamese Dream–a feat I did not think possible.

It might go against the popular grain to speak of Machina as the best Pumpkins album–of “I of the Mourning” and “Age of Innocence” as their best songs or “Stand Inside Your Love” as their best single. But these are definitely my favorites. I felt a perfect connection between the overall vibe of this album and my outlook on the world in 2000. “I of the Mourning” captured it perfectly for me–a positive cultivation of a sense of longing framed not by some mournful acoustic guitar but by that encompassing futuristic dream that characterizes the sound of Machina from start to finish.

Perhaps the stars just all aligned in the right place and time. Machina seems more like a personal testament to the band’s experiences together leading up to their impending break-up than a commentary on the state of the world. “Age of Innocence” functioned in retrospect as a clear final farewell. But it was a positive farewell, looking brightly to the uncertain future, and as such it seemed to coalesce with our passage into a new millennium. The 21st century promised, falsely as it turned out, to be a little less compulsive than the last, and I think Corgan likewise saw himself waving farewell to an endearing yet tumultuous phase in his life. I’ll leave you with that closing song:

We dismiss the back roads
and ride these streets unafraid
resort to scraping paint
from our bones unashamed

no more the eye upon you
no more the simple man

desolation yes, hesitation no
desolation yes, hesitation no
as you might have guessed, all is never shown
desolation yes, hesitation no

and in my prayers I dream alone
a silent speech to deaf ears:
If you want love, you must be love
but if you bleed love, you will die loved

no more the lie upon you
cast in stone the autumn shade

desolation yes, hesitation no
desolation yes, hesitation no
as you might have sensed, we won’t make it home
desolation yes, hesitation no

before the rites of spring
come to mean all things
a little taste of what may come
a mere glimpse of what has gone

cause for the moment we are free
we seek to bind our release
too young to die, too rich to care
too fucked to swear that I was there

desolation yes, hesitation no
desolation yes, hesitation no
as you might have guessed, we won’t make it home
desolation yes, hesitation no

Ten Years #31: Turisas

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
31. Turisas (1,040 plays)
Top track (96 plays): In the Court of Jarisleif, from The Varangian Way (2007)
Featured track: Miklagard Overture, from The Varangian Way

The Varangian Way was one of the last albums I expected to matter when I grabbed the pre-release leak in 2007. Having owned Battle Metal (2004) since its release, I remembered Turisas as a run of the mill band with one really outstanding song–Sahti-Waari–and a bunch of generic try-too-hard epic numbers to their name. It took about one minute in 2007 to realize that this band had achieved one of the most impressive turn-arounds in the history of metal. A captivating concept album packed with outstanding vocals and folk instrumentation, a brilliant symphonic backdrop, and thoroughly convincing lyrics, The Varangian Way was my favorite album of 2007 and remains a top 10 all time contender for me today. Mathias Nygård and company crafted an inspiring musical journey from Viking Age Scandinavia through Russia to the seat of the Byzantine empire with all the gloss of a Hollywood blockbuster. From the symphonic prog suspense of “The Dnieper Rapids” to the drunken folk romp of “In the Court of Jarisleif” to the orchestral majesty of “Miklagard Overture”, Turisas employed a world of musical styles to uniquely capture every stage of the voyage. As a concept album, they delivered the full package to an extent that is perhaps only trumped by Blind Guardian’s Nightfall in Middle-Earth. This was no fluke, either. Their follow-up album, Stand Up and Fight (2011), might have lacked the fulfilling sense of completeness that only a concept album can deliver, but it by and large maintained the level of quality of its predecessor, ensuring that Battle Metal could be remembered as a freshman effort and not the more accurate representation of their matured sound. Their fourth studio album, Turisas2013, is set to release this Wednesday (August 21st). While its awkward title and cover art will require some substantiation, I have really high hopes.

I’ll leave you with the lyrics to “Miklagard Overture”. I especially love how Turisas cultivate the power of names to really drive this anthem home; they employ the fact that Constantinople is known in so many languages as a testament to its glory. I personally visited Istanbul last summer, and I can confidently say that it remains one of the most overwhelming cities on this earth, breathing 2000 years of history not in ruin but in vibrant life. Turisas manage to do it justice in a way few other artists could.

Long have I drifted without a course
A rudderless ship I have sailed
The Nile just keeps flowing without a source
Maybe all the seekers just failed

To Holmgard and beyond
In search of a bond
Far from home I’ve come
But the road has just begun

Breathing history
Veiled in mystery
The sublime
The greatest of our time
Tsargrad!

“Come with us to the south
Write your name on our roll”
I was told;

Konstantinopolis
Sui generis
The saints and emperors
Of bygone centuries
The man-made birds in their trees
Out load their paean rings
Immortality!

In astonishing colours the East meets the West
The hill-banks arise in their green
In wonder I sit on my empty chest
As we glide down the strait in between

To Holmgard and beyond
In search of a bond
Distant church bells toll
For their god they chant and troll

Breathing history
Veiled in mystery
The sublime
The greatest of our time
Tsargrad!

The Norwegian of rank
In the court of The Prince
I was convinced

Konstantinopolis
Ten gates to eternity
Seen all for centuries
Your inconquerable walls
Your temples and your halls
See all, hear all, know all

My sun rose in the North and now sets in the South
The Golden Horn lives up to its name
From tower to tower a chain guards its mouth
Unbreakable, they claim

To Holmgard and beyond
In search of a bond
Adventures lie ahead
Many knots lie unravelled on my thread

Breathing history
Veiled in mystery
The sublime
The greatest of our time
Tsargrad!

Konstantinopolis
Queen of the cities
Your welcoming smile
Made all worthwhile
The sweat and the pain

Bathing in gold
Endless rooftops unfold
The sun sets for a while just to rise again

Great walls
Great halls
Greatest of all, Miklagard

Ten Years #32: Elliott Smith

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
32. Elliott Smith (946 plays)
Top track (95 plays): Southern Belle, from Elliott Smith (1995)
Featured track: St. Ides Heaven, from Elliott Smith

This October will mark ten years since Elliott Smith’s tragic death. I remember hearing the news only a few months after I started listening to him. The Royal Tenenbaums was my favorite movie at the time, and I picked up his self-titled album after hearing Needle in the Hay in the suicide scene. As if the album’s lyrics weren’t bleak enough already, the relevance of my first experience of Elliott Smith to his death added a whole new weight. It’s a pleasant if odd coincidence that the album soon became intimately tied with one of the most positive experiences of my life.

Smith died in October, and I shipped off to basic training the following month. Music deprivation–the only really challenging aspect of the whole three month process–came to an end when I was marched out of my barracks with my confiscated cd collection back in tow and shipped off to my year-long advanced training. I hopped on a plane in a bitter sub-zero St. Louis February and fell back off in the palm-tree coastal paradise of Monterey, California. Elliott Smith was spinning all the while, and it kept on playing until I left that strange and beautiful place for good. Something about the juxtaposition of Smith’s depressing lyrics and ethereal performance perfectly captured the simultaneous homesickness and bewilderment that I experienced as a rural 19 year old alone and out of his element with an enormous Army pay check, left to roam the hills of one of America’s most affluent coastal cities every night. That otherworldly vision of a serene Pacific bay surrounded by city lights will always go hand-in-hand with this album for me, and I can’t bring myself to listen to any other Elliott Smith recording without being overcome by a desire to put his self-titled back on, close my eyes, and relive the experience. It might not be exactly what Smith had in mind when he recorded it, but I would rather like to remember him for the beauty lying beneath his depression than for his death.

Ten Years #33: Аркона

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
33. Аркона (909 plays)
Top track (49 plays): Покровы небесного старца, from От сердца к небу (2007)
Featured track: Гой, Купала!!!, from От сердца к небу

It’s no coincidence that a lot of folk-oriented Slavic metal bands have more of an edge than their western counterparts. There is a spirit of primitivism and barbarism that seems to permeate these acts; while Alestorm and Korpiklaani are reveling in booze, bands like Arkona are delighting in something more savage. Grittier distortion, harsher vocals, lower quality production, and a tendency to incorporate black metal all play a role. While this has allowed a lot of Slavic folk metal bands to capture a slightly deeper, more introspective connection to their cultural roots, it has also reduced their accessibility. Arkona are impervious to this consequence; they manage to invoke that essence of savage Slavic glory while still constructing songs I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend to people unconditioned to extreme metal. This is due in part to their above-average production quality (obviously lacking in a youtube rip), but more so to Masha’s wildly diverse range of sung and screamed vocals, often accompanied by a glorious operatic Russian chorus.

As with the last entry in my last.fm series, there is not much I care to say about Arkona that I did not already cover in a previous post. Their position as my 33rd most listened to band of the past decade is no accident. Hell, they’re the initial reason I learned how to transliterate Cyrillic.

Ten Years #34: Hiroki Kikuta

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
34. Hiroki Kikuta (909 plays)
Top track (105 plays): A Wish, from Seiken Densetsu 2 (Secret of Mana) (1993)

Hiroki Kikuta–or 菊田裕樹 as I like to tag my artists–is in reality my #1 most listened to artist of the past decade, if only because Premonition from Secret of Mana has been my cell phone ring tone since something like 1999. (I actually manually recorded the song on my phone and set it up as a ring tone back before you could load mp3s.) The fact that I still have yet to tire of it is a testament to just how great the Secret of Mana soundtrack was. I regard the first half of the 1990s as the pinnacle of video game music, thanks in no small part to Square’s exquisite attention to audio at the time. Hiroki Kikuta, like Yasunori Mitsuda two years later, was something of a no name in the world of vgm who Square tasked with an enormously high-demand project and who rose to the challenge in full.

Everything I could desire to say about Kikuta I’ve already summed up in the Secret of Mana entry to my video game music series last year, so I’ll make this entry to my current post series brief. Suffice to say I think Kikuta was a brilliant composer on par with Uematsu and Mitsuda. He unfortunately made some relatively poor career choices which prohibited him from being tasked with enough high budget game projects to make his name as much of a lasting fixture in the history of vgm as these latter two, but the Secret of Mana soundtrack rightly deserves a place among the finest gaming music ever conceived.

Ten Years #35: Blur

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
35. Blur (850 plays)
Top track (43 plays): Parklife, from Parklife (1994)

It wasn’t until about 1996 that my mother decided it would be acceptable to allow me to purchase cds. Prior to that, all non-Evangelical Christian music and television was banned in our household (aside from The Beatles and Pink Floyd; she liked them as a kid, so they must have never done drugs or any of that Satanic stuff). Her lovely father was exploiting me for slave labor at that point for the fair wage of 25 cents an hour, and I found that, at $8 a pop through the BMG music distribution club, I could buy a new cd every four days. I quickly replaced all of my secret cassette recordings of radio singles with actual albums, and some time the following year that lead to the acquisition of Blur’s Parklife. I was initially appalled to find that it did not contain “Song 2”–the only Blur track that most Americans have ever heard–and considered writing to BMG demanding my money back for their faulty advertising. How dare they sell me some other cd by a band that, according to my radio, only ever wrote one song worth listening to.

Well, suffice to say I gave it a few more listens and it became one of my lasting favorites of that decade. I was oblivious to its tongue-in-cheek social commentary at the time. What I heard was a vision of some foreign, advanced culture in which people spoke in tantalizing accents and could sing about subjects other than religion without resorting to aggression. The novel experience of a world beyond a particularly self-isolating yet prominent American subculture and its proclaimed enemies (grunge music and video games–we hadn’t reinstated the Crusades yet) is largely responsible for my persistent, overly glamorous and unrealistic Europhilia today. Blur’s ability to craft a sound that perfectly reflected the modern British life they were mocking placed them at the forefront of this experience. For me at the time, the most popular band in Britain was a close-kept secret. To have grown up and realized they really were one of the most talented and creative bands of their generation is just icing on the cake. Blur remains one of my most listened-to non-metal bands today–my 35th most-played band of the past decade–and I can’t imagine I’ll tire of them any time soon.