Lost Inside - Hearts Will Grow Heavy

Band: Lost Inside

Album: Hearts Will Grow Heavy

Genre: DSBM (or, maybe, post-DSBM)

Country: U.S.A.

Year: 2011

Link

This certainly is a unique album, especially when it claims to be "depressive". It has a lighter quality to it as a whole, less stuck as it was in their Demo album of years before. I also sense an improved music quality than this previous album, naturally coming into what might be called Lost Inside's "sound", which is much lighter and reflective than typical DSBM. I wouldn't quite say that it has shoegaze elements, but it comes off as unique and confined to a distant brooding and reflecting. Lyrical themes are also atypical as well, and provide a good and intellectual break from the norm; not quite abandoning nihilism, but more thoughtful about it and waiting on the edge. 

One thing that strikes me as odd is the juxtaposition of seemingly positive and negative themes, and is almost comical. 

In the first track arises a haunting, distant, but distinctly human voice, then lapses eventually into a repeating instrumental which nevertheless progresses enough to not grow boring. Subdued screaming vocals come in near the end, which sound "soft" enough to go along well with the melancholy music. Fade out strumming.

Second song gets sudden injection of screaming vocals. Title: "No Longer Can I See The Sun". A little reminiscent of their previous works, a good 6/10 song (with 5 being absolutely neutral). I really like the riff near the end of the song.

As I listen to this, I'm looking through the album insert and its pictures. For the second track we have what appears to be an empty wooden chair. On the next flap we get a promo picture of Surtur, member of the band, looking to the side. He looks a little like Neige and has nothing of an arrogant expression. Beside, the third track title: "A Drifting Memory (instrumental)".

Third track: Begins with eerie spatial ambiance creeping up through the volume levels, always probing in mindless directions. Leaves one to contemplate on anything, or a "drifting memory". Reminds me somewhat of the ambient tracks from All The Cold or ColdWorld, much calmer than any of them though.

"Now You Can Breathe", the fourth track, begins with what sounds almost like a Happy Days melody. It's melancholy and nostalgic. The first vocal however is weak and distant, like a person mumbling normally to himself. On this insert-page we get a picture of Kold, member of the band. A part of this song's lyrics are in Dutch, a tribute no less. The latter instrumental part continues the song very well. 

Fifth track, "Blinded By Starlight", starts out with a riff that sounds as if to say, "AH, but.... that's not quite it, listen here..." The vocals continue like a usual DSBM song, but when the drums pick up we realize that the song takes on a new dimension, a new dynamism. It's fast paced yet still well within the genre. Those who don't like the scream-singing of this kind of music won't even mind in this track, since it goes so well with the general song, its progression, the rhythm, the guitars and the drums. The secondary vocals, chanting and choral, sound really dreamy yet not divorced from what it should be, and that's what makes this song really great. It is an ultimatum if I've ever seen one. The lyrics are my favorite out of the bunch. The last combination of both vocal types work really well, like a split consciousness between cool, distant reflection and the crazed screaming of the desperate.

Last track, "Hearts Will Grow Heavy"... we are introduced with the gazesque vocals in the background, chanting. It is a really well-done song. We get a transition into the rough vocals of metal, with a drop in drums and guitar riffs, literally, "growing heavy". Evens out into a skimming DSBM song which fits the sound of a conclusive track. Continues alternating between slightly light and heavy, on a whole becoming less energetic. Lyrics from the last song:

A disturbed mind.

Damned without clarity.

A torture lays upon me.

Like a cold breeze upon the forest.

And eventually,

Hearts will grow heavy.

Each song is at least five minutes long, which is a favorable progression in light of certain bands. This album is filled with its little effects and details, that you will have to discover. 

8/10 for DSBM, a fresh look at the genre, moving in its own direction and staying true to its development.

more Thedic constructs

Link to the first article

Frith                      Forest (rather than the direct Normal loan-word)
Firth                      Fjord (rather than the direct Scandinavian loan-word)
Rand                    Rand
Wald, Wold           Wald (wold still holds the derivative meaning of a desolate area in modern English)
Swarthwald          Schwarzwald

Handhour              Handuhr (alt. Armbandhour)
Spellhour               Spieluhr
Sweer                    Schwer

Abiddance              Gebet
Keek                       Gucken

Some of these are constructed with the help of present-day English dialects, which still preserve these rare kind of cognates in certain parts of England. Just for an example, http://www.hawaii.edu/satocenter/langnet/definitions/geordie.html#vocab-hce

a story

There once was a town on the edge of the mountains that no one really knew of. No one except for the townsfolk, that is, who had settled there thousands of years before in times that no records spoke of. Part of this was due to the fact that the town kept no records, and that life had not changed here in so long. Wars and empires had spanned their durations while this small pocket of reality continued unafflicted. In terms of economy, it yielded just enough to feed its own children and was far enough to be unprofitable.

            One day, however, a foreign element entered this town and stayed there. The legends which later grew from this were attributed to the village’s long stock of hard workers, whose heroic spirit was to be seen as ineffable, but it was only so in the fact that they had never fought wars. The man who’d come was a traveler from western lands, a barbaric figure having escaped the clutches of a fallen kingdom whose fate became unknown to him. He took up a house and plot of land far from the village’s middle and brought a child.

            The child had never known of any place other than the village. He had not even scaled the feet of the mountains, and had never heard of an outside world from his caretaker. For simplicity’s sake he would have claimed himself a father, but something like honor compelled him from that lie. Instead he raised the child where he could eat, breathe, and live without the immediate risk of death. It was a much better life, he imagined.

            The child himself was not as sure of this. Like all youths. Why am I wasting my time. Would an editor really want to read this dribble? There is nothing to it. Yet I’m sure they get things like these every day, and what do they publish in the end anyway? Look on the shelves. Tonnes of literature, with nothing particularly special about it, other than the ability to weave characters that keep the reader attuned for the duration of the novel, after which becoming only useless additions in an already bloated storage of memory concerning entertainment. They are disposable goods. That is the state of marketed literature these days, and by “marketed” I mean manuscripts that can be found on your bookstore’s shelves. Yes, placeholders for a person’s attention while the book’s length is processed, after which they become quite relevant.

            At some point we must ask ourselves if there are simply too many books in existence, with too many characters and minor characters that simply do not all deserve to exist. I do not hold my own literature in such regards with supremacy. But the sheer quantity of placeholding universes is staggering and unecessary. Are the publishing companies really responsible for this bloated ontology? This corpulescent existential body, whose substance, meaning and livelihood grow paler and more insignificant by the day because of their sheer nauseating corporeal quantity and abandonment? No, like the forgotten orphan-children of the world that were born and then died without anyone knowing them, these figures only suffer by their prolonged existence. If they were to see the scope of the situation from the fourth wall, they would immediately terminate their paleogeneses.

           This is because most literature is now conceived for the purpose of filling space. There is no greatness anymore, and the little that exists is swamped out by the sheer sea of “writers”, which makes everyone anonymous. Instead of having a Poe, or a Lovecraft, or a Mishima, we instead have a hundred or a thousand of such people who take inspiration from these figures – who were “inspired” by their literature to follow in their footsteps – yet possess little if not none of the pure artistic ability to produce on their level. We have quantity over quality. Whatever their reasons, this huge sea of writers – a result of the increasing laxness of an American middle-class with the inspiration of dream-chasing, no matter how suitable they really are for such an aspiration – prevents any singular figure from making a name. This means that the potential Poe or Lovecraft of the twenty-first century simply has no chance of reaching the same level, because publishing itself has changed. The sheer mass of people now existing in the field of art, most of which are there for reasons other than manifesting previous talent, means that writing itself in human society can no longer revolve around individuals or personalities. It has become an entirely automated and impersonal process, suitable for integration into the business-matrix of the global capital machine but little else. It does no service for man’s spirit. Instead it has only drawn the potential genius into the corner where he is further alienated from sharing such work.

            The same problem exists in other fields, where a mass of unrecognized people is seen as favorable over a system where only a few figures become very powerful. This mentality, a safeguard of mediocrity and pettiness, is responsible for the situation we find ourselves in now. We no longer have a chance, to reach for that position, because the position itself has been labelled as immoral. The struggle has been labelled as immoral (for, after all, struggle ideally should not exist). Our desire to spread art of the most singular magnificence has been labelled immoral. Our souls have been labelled immoral. For the sake of maintaining a soft society where people can imagine themselves with all kinds of conceits safely, that they are this or that, what is necessary for us to live freely and truly is labelled immoral. We no longer live in a society of patrons but of propagandists, and where the quantity of works has replaced the content as the measure of quality for society. It is hyperreal, and the concept of art has been lost altogether through the suffocating lens of the most dire humanism. The art no longer matters. Only what the consumer-unit feels, or professes to feel, which influences their milkability. 

As many have said, we live in the age of "the self". And what is "the self", when we look at a social system? It is the mass of units in an economic system each bound to act in accordance with an egocentric system, rather than for something outside of the individual's economically-integratable self, such as art. The age of the masses, of the majority, where the artist and thinker find himself completely alone and alienated.

A Premonition - Forgotten Dreams

Band: A Premonition

Album: Forgotten Dreams

Genre: Black/Doom Metal

Country: Argentina

Year: 2013

Link

Just from the album cover, we get a mysterious figure not unlike Mozart's father from "Amadeus". This image, obscured by a screen with droplets on it, is indeed somewhat reminiscent of a forgotten dream, the words of which are almost unnoticeable in the art's grey.

In the first track we begin with a melancholy opener, a loose focus gazing nowhere in particular, just in an empty, grey world. The stasis of a rain, or waiting in an abandoned city. The stasis of a dream, the quiet, the waiting. Then a simple riff begins to lead tension along a "premonition", the beginning of something within the dream, something deeper. The metal guitars start, melancholy yet at the same time ripping through the second-marks and the dreamscape with ultimate finality, taking a suitable pace for DSBM. The fusion of guitars and drums work very well, and the song's dynamism goes against the droning of riffs, such as with the band Trist for example. We very much feel a progression, or a movement going quickly across the song, even if we want to listen to these riffs again and again. This is how music progression should be done.

I'm really impressed that A Premonition can release so much music in a short amount of time, and the quality present in previous albums is not compromised. Unlike others, some of the songs have English titles. This album is eight tracks long, and stands out by having slow low-energy moments of reflection between dynamic DSBM-like intervals. A lot less vocals on this album, which is a wise decision, since it really allows the isolated feeling to arise. I would say this is perfect for brooding on obscure subject matters in the privacy of one's own mind, rather than the kind of "open" and confrontational feelings of the past two albums that are reviewed here. No, this album takes place inside the head, and in the innumerable worlds therein, seething in the madness of yet forgotten dreamscapes, turning, churning, reflecting, oscillating... All of the progressing qualities of A Premonition never leave. Post-metal sounds are absent, just ambiance and black metal. Ends on an acoustic-style note.