Review Summary: splish-splash i was taking... a piss.
Abbath Doom Occulta is one of the -if not the most- genuinely likable figures in black metal. A far cry from the stoic façade his peers routinely perpetrate, Abbath is probably one of the only black metal musicians I've seen bear a smile outside the context of a church-burning going well. He cracks jokes, pokes fun at himself during interviews, and lets us know that he too is human, putting himself at a distance that doesn't seem a million miles away from you or I. Over the course of his career his happy-go-lucky demeanor has helped him stand-out in the community, while simultaneously not sacrificing an ounce of his black metal "credibility"; when it came time to adorn his frostbitten warrior of Blashyrkh alter-ego, he played the role flawlessly. In this way, myself -and I'm sure thousands of other fans- were wishing him the best after he left his longtime project to go solo. Long the face and heart of Immortal, the bulk of their fans jumped ship after his departure, eager to see what Norway's favorite Panda would do next.
Predictably, the press campaign leading up to the release of his eponymous solo album was hilarious; with pictures of himself and bandmates (King formerly of Gorgoroth and Creature of Benighted) traipsing throughout London eating hotdogs, frolicking across Abbey Road, and indulging in other tourist attractions, he effortlessly reaffirmed why the world can't get enough of Abbath Doom Occulta. It also didn't hurt when the band released a ripping live rendition of "Fenrir Hunts", a track that encapsulated the wonderful fusion of black metal and thrash that we've come to expect from him at this point. Seemingly poised to reclaim his title as a Son of Northern Darkness, this is unfortunately where the story goes south; despite how likable he is,
Abbath ultimately fails to deliver to on its potential, ruined by tedious and stagnant songwriting.
The crux of the matter is that while so much is happening on this album, nothing goes anywhere. You needn't look any further than the opening track "To War"; despite the fact it opens with a tantalizing thrash build-up, the song fails to capitalize on its momentum. Instead, it wanders through riff after riff of aimless black metal-lite guitar lines. It certainly has the "Abbath" stamp on it -fast and unrelenting with his signature wispy tone- but without a hook to grasp onto. The memorable moments are just too few and far between. Songs like the mid-paced stomp in "Winter Bane"' and blistering "Count the Dead" almost succeed in creating something worth returning to, but instead of being implemented with any tact, are driven headfirst into the ground. Repetition, especially in black metal is a double edged sword; here, Abbath unfortunately falls victim to his own blade. The album's tempo does little to help this. Though Creature is certainly an adept drummer, his whirlwind blasting becomes aggravating at a certain point, especially when partnered with the copy and pasted guitar lines. Even during the slower moments, the songs just seem to plod along without any finite destination. Though the album is only 48 minutes, these elements make it feel unbearably longer.
Despite all of this,
Abbath isn't without its highlights. The aforementioned single "Fenrir Hunts" is the ideal blend of Morbid Angel-inspired chaos and black metal militence reminiscent of Immortal's Blizzard Beast days. Likewise, the closing track "Eternal" benefits from a more death metal derived sound, driven by brutalizing guitars and Abbath's best vocal performance in years. If the rest of the songs on the album were half as good as these two, the story may have been different. There is too much comfort in this release; Abbath has long since developed his own style which until this point has worked wonderfully, but this is far from his best purveyance of it. One can only hope that his next album will be better, but until then you're better off listening to
Sons of Northern Darkness.
