“A Blaze in the Northern Sky”
Artist: Forest
Album: Like a Blaze Above the Ashes
Year of release: 1997
[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]Despite being relatively unknown outside the narrow circle of listeners, Forest are one of the strongest black metal bands hailing from the wondrous land of bears and vodka. Taking its roots from one of the oldest Russian black metal formations Branikald, which is essentially a sister-project, Forest continued its existence in various forms for five albums, before finally disbanding and spilling out into other projects along the way. The band’s second album, Like a Blaze Above the Ashes, could well be considered the forgotten gem of Russian black metal scene, and probably one of the strongest releases the country has ever produced. Cold, harsh and relentless, the album empties and mesmerizes the listener in its endless sonic snowstorms.
The first half of the record is dedicated to relatively standard black metal songs, formed around several riffs each, tearing through the darkness at breakneck pace which remains pretty constant throughout the two songs. Paying homage to the traditions of black metal, where atmosphere is everything, the fuzzed-out guitars and distant vocals evoke the sorrow, as if one knows that the next dawn won’t be seen with one’s eyes. Image of war flames is ever-prevalent; one other image that I found occurring to me is of a soldier, separated from his friends in the midst of war, on his own under the night skies of a foreign country. This is where we come to the third song, a really interesting composition.
“To the Fiercest Frost” fully justifies its title. The song is divided into three parts; beginning with some meandering chords, that don’t really lead anywhere, but evoking a real sense of being lost, hopelessness without resolve, walking in circles and never coming out. There’s no percussion or vocals here, just a solitary guitar line, occasionally joined by some folk instruments, yet it’s one of the bleakest pieces of music I’ve had a chance to experience. Once the first movement comes to an end, a more defining melody begins the second part, with a picked arpeggio that is just as sorrowful, but this time it has direction, as if the blizzard has finally passed, and the lost wanderer can finally see the houses in the distance; he is walking towards them without knowing if he’ll find help there, but it’s the only sign of life and he takes the chance. Here percussion and vocals enter; the same depraved and estranged scream that guided the first two songs, and picks up the story. Finally, the third movement arrives, which is more reminiscent of the first two tracks. The pace is much faster, tearing through time, possibly portraying the last battle of will, and bringing the song to the close just past sixteen minute mark.
The last track is somewhat of a surprise, though for those familiar with Branikald’s work and the first Forest album this won’t be that new. Played entirely using clean guitar, it feels almost as an epitaph – or epilogue – to everything told in the album. Ghostly, sorrowful melody wraps itself around skald-like clean vocals; it’s the inevitable end, and in the voice there is acceptance together with grief, but also pride and dignity. The war is lost, everyone either passed or faded into the night. Appropriately titled “Obscurity” it is the song that one would sing to the night sky, while the wolves howl at the moon. The track reminded me a little of Urfaust in the use of clean vocals, though unlike their Dutch colleagues they are used more sparingly throughout Forest albums.
A journey into obscurity, mysticism and shaman magic of Eastern woodlands, a blaze of war, sudden death, endless solitude and pain are encapsulated in just over forty minutes of music. While the album may be a little uneven and inaccessible at first, its rawness and immediacy strike deep into the listener; melodic without compromising aggression, haunting without intentional use of atmospheric devices, it’s a voice of many that has built up over the thousands of years in the cold snows of the north. The record is a perfect example of Russian black metal and a reason to cultivate interest in this young but quickly growing scene.
9/10
Alexei Gudimenko, 2009
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