Hanging out with Sam Tuesday night reminded me that I haven’t reviewed but two of the several black metal albums he gifted me as an introduction to the genre. Since my brain is half-dead from the excruciatingly long story I shared with you over the last two days, I’m going to devote today to the most mindless of all forms of journalism: music journalism. It’s so easy, a decaying monkey carcass could do it. Music journalists and music bloggers are basically operate on a similar cognitive wavelength as rotting fur piles. That phrase should be emblazoned on front page of each and every moronic music blog on the Internet. Anyway, this installment of Evan Reviews Black Metal features the Romanian group Negură Bunget, and their album Om.
Now that I’m somewhat of a pro at listening to black metal, I had no fear when I dropped the proverbial needle on Om. I don’t know what this group’s other albums sound like (I can’t be bothered to research), but this one sounds very ambitious. Actually, it sounds like progressive metal meets post-rock, steeped in a blacker-than-black fog. The best part is, their vocalist can sing! And very well, I might add (see: “Conoas Terea Tacuta”). That’s not to say the band can’t thrash around and bring the chug-a-lug metal choogle, like Wolves In The Throne Room or Weakling, but while those bands craft intense, Nordic-tinged compositions, Negură Bunget opt for an atmospheric, dare I say ambient approach. Perhaps it has something to do with being from Southeastern Europe, not America’s west coast.
You’d be surprised how much attention is given to ambiance. The album contains eleven tracks, only two of which push past ten minutes in length. There are plenty of shorter jams and dreamy dronescapes, which made me all the more happier, since I can do without excessive fuzz blasts and screeches. Those annoying Norwegian bands could learn a thing or two from these Romanian guys.
Amid the genre-melding bleakness of “Tesarul De Lumini,” listeners are dragged along the floor of an overgrown forest where only hints of sunlight peak through the canopy. It’s dark and desperate, but there is hope. Take a listen.
