Hierophant Nox

ALBUM REVIEW

Flame of War - Transcendence
EastSide
Flame of War is the banner under which Polish artists Njord and Strzygon sail, and should be a by-word for stripped-down, stretched-out pagan black metal of the primitive and melancholic variety. Although you’ll find Flame of War listed as ‘Aryan’ metal, at their own insistence I believe, the lyrical content here should give you no cause to mis-step, and the approach seems to be more focused on glorying in a pagan past than stamping on faces. At the risk of repeating myself, I trust my readers to be able to judge for themselves what they do and do not want to hear.

For myself, I’m rather pleased to have come across “Transcendence”, an ambitious, indulgent exercise in Burzum-esque shapes and movements. The three tracks that comprise its 57-minute duration are challengingly long. They’d still work if they were a good bit shorter, but their introverted, repetitive, linear structures are all part of the mission statement, with trance-like harshness allowing for tiny shifts – a step down in key, a redoubling of tempo - to have massive power. Opener “Transcendence” begins showcasing Njord’s clean playing skills, with some sad, deep acoustics, over which a thin line of grimness eventually breaks, gathering momentum, atmosphere and reverbed, snarling spite all the way up to a crunching climax near to the end of the track.

“Unity” moves more frequently between the raging and frostbitten and the calm and ambient, again evoking great sadness and nostalgia. “Fate” is enormously epic, with endlessly repeating movements changing with glacial slowness into a towering lead, underpinned by an awe-inspiring atmosphere. “Transcendence” is a purposefully primitive entity, evident in all aspects, from the presentation to the production. Njord is a firm believer in the power of a thin, echoing, utterly classic black metal guitar line, and expects the listener to share in that faith. The unexpectedly beautiful turns of some of his constructions, coupled with a stirring, aching aura are for the main part enough to bring you along for the ride.

Not for Flame of War the experimental, “post-everything” approach of some devotees of Wotan (Drudkh for example); instead, we’re gifted on “Transcendence” with the bare essentials, summoned on the mountainside in the dead of winter and twisted into shapes we’ve known forever, but can still appreciate when howled to the moon with skill and feeling. The limpid, ambient intervals that weave their way in between the mainstay of thin, growling, cold guitar, gnashed-teeth, buried vocals and subtle synth tones add an otherworldly, echoing, sadness that holds the attention and sparks the imagination. This album revels in being true to itself, and determined denizens of the underground may find it extremely pleasing.