Review Summary: Cold and hopeless, with no light at the end, this is an uncomfortable release that refuses to let the listener leave.
Anundshög, situated outside Västerås, is the largest burial mound in Sweden. The final resting place of many, it seems fitting that a location of such association would be the end of the misery inflicted during the length of this album; a long, morale destroying 52 minutes of depressive lyrics, doomy guitar sections laced with black metal elements and a piano section providing the only, yet ultimately cruel, escape.
Despite the vocals being in both Swedish and England, to those of us that are not bilingual the emotions conversed by Pessimisten are not lost in translation - when not detailing his self-destructive thoughts and actions through spoken-word passage that sound like diary entries, he shrieks, wails and sobs his way through the album, either spewing vitriol about life of the forgotten in Västerås or pathetic fallacies in the form of falling leaves and snow. Although vocally not the strongest (where 'singing' is used at all, many of the shrieks are short, stabbing rasps, and some of the chanting in 'Västerås' is decidedly off-key), the way the lyrics are so agonisingly delivered can trigger a vicarious state, where the feeling of desperation suddenly becomes very real.
Due to the cymbal-heavy drum recording, when the whole band is playing everything else (including the vocals at some points) fades into the background slightly over a tinny haze - which is a shame, as when the guitars are allowed to shine through, many sections sound as melancholic as the vocals. The title track, for example, begins with a riff that could have been lifted from a
Mournful Congregation rehearsal session, and throughout the album there are several of these mid-register doom riffs that further add to the bleak atmosphere created by the vocals. The tremolo picked sections aren't the most inspiring (particularly as they're usually covered up by the aforementioned cymbal distortion), but there is one notable section at the start of 'Under My Influence', which is definitely not pursued enough (indeed, for an as-publicised DSBM album, this is the one of the only undoubtedly blackened sections).
The highlight of the album though, and arguably the most affecting, is the piano interlude 'Omöjligheten till lycka' (The Impossibility of Happiness). A slow, brooding instrumental piece, it gives the listener some thinking time, and although not a jaunty number by any stretch, gives the impression of there being some light in the darkness. However, this illusion is crushed at the end, where one dissonant, shortened stab of the piano followed by 40 seconds of silence instantly brings the album back to it's self-deprecating persona.
Production aside, this is a well executed record that mostly succeeds in it's mission to portray feelings of depression and hatred in a way that is sometimes challenging, occasionally grating but grimly compelling to listen to. Undoubtedly, the subject matter may turn some away, and the spoken word passages may not be for everyone, but for those that give this time, it's an uncomfortable but worthwhile listen.
