Okkultokrati – No Light For Mass (Fysisk Format Records)
While not much attention has been paid to Norway’s Okkultokrati (yet), it seems that pretty much every interview/review/feature has made a point of trying to pin down the band’s stylistic allegiance –metal, punk, et cetera – with varying degrees of success. It probably doesn’t clarify matters that the band refers to their style as “metaphysical black n’ roll,” a description which, tongue planted firmly in cheek, seems almost evasive. One listen to the band’s newest release, however, suggests that their self-applied genre tag is more apt than it might first appear.
The “metaphysical” tag might seem a tad pretentious, except that the visceral power of the music and the bleak lyrical approach of lines like “Projection of the mind / Gateway through empty space / The will of no God / The hidden power” suggest a worldview not far removed from standard heavy metal tropes, albeit with a slightly subtler grasp of the philosophy. The latter half of the term, “black n’ roll” offers a tidy summation of the music itself – the album comes off like a dour divergence of a less self-referential version of Darkthrone’s more recent albums mixed with the sort of stadium-rock influenced death metal Entombed has spent the past decade and a half cranking out.
Band comparisons and genre tags, self-applied or otherwise, aside – No Light For Mass is an equally forceful and thoughtful release – like reading Nietzsche during a bar fight – which offers a howling, vitriolic cacophony which should appeal to fans of all things heavy and nihilistic.
Rangda – False Flag (Drag City Records)
The term “supergroup,” with notable exceptions, often calls to mind bloated, masturbatory exercises in ego gratification by groups of musicians who are often their own biggest fans. The listening public is then supposed to take it as a matter of faith that if these musicians were great on their own, then their creative powers would logically multiply exponentially when combined, only to left disappointed (see: Zwan, Whitesnake, Velvet Revolver). A listener familiar with the musical pedigrees of Rangda’s three members – Richard Bishop of Sun City Girls, Ben Chasny of Six Organs Of Admittance, and Chris Corsano, who has collaborated with Bjork, Jandek, and dozens of others – might easily term the band a supergroup despite expectations that the proceedings would possess a subtlety and restraint the term rarely suggests. While the terminology is accurate, any such expectations are not borne out with any degree of consistency.
The album’s six improvisational pieces eschew the campy exotica for which Bishop is known and the melancholy psychedelia of Chasny’s recordings in favor of an approach which alternates between full-bore, atonal shredding and less frantic, gentler songs. “Waldorf Hysteria” and “Serrated Edges” possess, as each title suggests, a grating quality which suggests a graceless version of free jazz or an arrhythmic attempt at early no wave. Quieter moments, such as “Sarcophagi” or the fifteen-minute closer “Plain of Jars,” at least offer a respite from the dissonance, but come across as meandering and aimless as walking into a Grateful Dead concert halfway through without any drugs to make it interesting.
The problem with Rangda’s album is not even its overwhelming dissonance or lack of focus – it’s an improvised rock album, those elements are par for the course. The issue is that each musician involved has a long-standing track record of being extremely adept at rhythm, melody, and composition – all the elements they disregard for this project. Each member has made music so vastly more compelling that False Flag almost seems like a throwaway. The listener is left with music which neither arrives nor departs and fails to capture the attention with the same facility that each member has on their own.
Okkultokrati – No Light For Mass (Fysisk Format Records)
While not much attention has been paid to Norway’s Okkultokrati (yet), it seems that pretty much every interview/review/feature has made a point of trying to pin down the band’s stylistic allegiance –metal, punk, et cetera – with varying degrees of success. It probably doesn’t clarify matters that the band refers to their style as “metaphysical black n’ roll,” a description which, tongue planted firmly in cheek, seems almost evasive. One listen to the band’s newest release, however, suggests that their self-applied genre tag is more apt than it might first appear.
The “metaphysical” tag might seem a tad pretentious, except that the visceral power of the music and the bleak lyrical approach of lines like “Projection of the mind / Gateway through empty space / The will of no God / The hidden power” suggest a worldview not far removed from standard heavy metal tropes, albeit with a slightly subtler grasp of the philosophy. The latter half of the term, “black n’ roll” offers a tidy summation of the music itself – the album comes off like a dour divergence of a less self-referential version of Darkthrone’s more recent albums mixed with the sort of stadium-rock influenced death metal Entombed has spent the past decade and a half cranking out.
Band comparisons and genre tags, self-applied or otherwise, aside – No Light For Mass is an equally forceful and thoughtful release – like reading Nietzsche during a bar fight – which offers a howling, vitriolic cacophony which should appeal to fans of all things heavy and nihilistic.
Rangda – False Flag (Drag City Records)
The term “supergroup,” with notable exceptions, often calls to mind bloated, masturbatory exercises in ego gratification by groups of musicians who are often their own biggest fans. The listening public is then supposed to take it as a matter of faith that if these musicians were great on their own, then their creative powers would logically multiply exponentially when combined, only to left disappointed (see: Zwan, Whitesnake, Velvet Revolver). A listener familiar with the musical pedigrees of Rangda’s three members – Richard Bishop of Sun City Girls, Ben Chasny of Six Organs Of Admittance, and Chris Corsano, who has collaborated with Bjork, Jandek, and dozens of others – might easily term the band a supergroup despite expectations that the proceedings would possess a subtlety and restraint the term rarely suggests. While the terminology is accurate, any such expectations are not borne out with any degree of consistency.
The album’s six improvisational pieces eschew the campy exotica for which Bishop is known and the melancholy psychedelia of Chasny’s recordings in favor of an approach which alternates between full-bore, atonal shredding and less frantic, gentler songs. “Waldorf Hysteria” and “Serrated Edges” possess, as each title suggests, a grating quality which suggests a graceless version of free jazz or an arrhythmic attempt at early no wave. Quieter moments, such as “Sarcophagi” or the fifteen-minute closer “Plain of Jars,” at least offer a respite from the dissonance, but come across as meandering and aimless as walking into a Grateful Dead concert halfway through without any drugs to make it interesting.
The problem with Rangda’s album is not even its overwhelming dissonance or lack of focus – it’s an improvised rock album, those elements are par for the course. The issue is that each musician involved has a long-standing track record of being extremely adept at rhythm, melody, and composition – all the elements they disregard for this project. Each member has made music so vastly more compelling that False Flag almost seems like a throwaway. The listener is left with music which neither arrives nor departs and fails to capture the attention with the same facility that each member has on their own.
