Winterfylleth – The Threnody of Triumph (Candlelight Records)
To a casual observer, black metal as a genre may seem somewhat single-minded in its approach. However, it has has been characterized since its start by various contradictions. The co-existence of the nihilistic and the triumphalist. The premium placed on a certain brand of melodicism (the sort that, for lack of a better and less-abused term, could be characterized by the word “epic”), alongside a deep-rooted mistrust of the sort of recording techniques that might highlight those selfsame tendencies.
Winterfylleth – The Threnody of Triumph (Candlelight Records)
To a casual observer, black metal as a genre may seem somewhat single-minded in its approach. However, it has has been characterized since its start by various contradictions. The co-existence of the nihilistic and the triumphalist. The premium placed on a certain brand of melodicism (the sort that, for lack of a better and less-abused term, could be characterized by the word “epic”), alongside a deep-rooted mistrust of the sort of recording techniques that might highlight those selfsame tendencies. More fundamentalist factions are slavish in their retrospection, but consider these classicist tendencies to be some form of vanguard aesthetic. Less literal interpreters of the genre ride it to some popularity, but often by fusing the style with outside influences (the more radical and abrupt of which often correspond with a certain degree of popularity – see Finntroll).
English black metal band Winterfylleth exist on the dividing line that separates both sides of many of these contradictory facets. Their music, aligning itself with the more atmospheric end of the genre’s spectrum, draws from the folk-inflected tendencies of early Ulver as readily as it does from the crop of post-Weakling bands that have brought the more melodic, shoegaze-y strands of black metal to wider acclaim. Though they’re somewhat traditionalist in their approach, their visual aesthetic relies on few of the signifiers that characterized the bands from whom they’ve drawn influence. The quality of the recording is a far cry from the low-fidelity murk of their more distant forebears but also doesn’t seem reliant on too much flash or slickness. Even the album title revels in contradiction, counterbalancing a term for a mournful lament with language evoking exhultation.
But aside from that latter element, this sense of duality doesn’t seem contrived or self-conscious, which allows the album to work as well as it does. From the start, Threnody of Triumph establishes a well-considered sense of pacing and dynamics, with blasting and galloping rhythms underpinning swarms of guitar (that even employ some major key progressions – a rarity for this sort of thing) which are intermittently broken by gentle acoustic interludes and the sort of melodic, chant-like vocals that immediately highlight the Ulver comparison that much more clearly. The only real sticking point is the albums hour-plus running time – by the time the latter few songs come on, there’s a sense of the sameness that can overtake even the best material. It’s not that any of the songs are bad by any means, but the album as a whole would have benefited from some concision.
The idea of atmospheric black metal has become something of a bad joke in recent years, as that particular sub-sub-genre has become a magnet for people who want a friendlier, more accessible version of a style that wasn’t supposed to be friendly or accessible in the first place. But those elements have been present in many of even the rawest and harshest proponents of the style, and to deny them is to deny many of the things that make black metal compelling in the first place. What Winterfylleth does is neither new nor perfect, and may be too cleanly-assembled and majestic-sounding for genre purists. But it’s well-executed, with nary a note out of place, retrospective and reverent without relying on replication.
