Review Summary: For Helvetia!
Having tried in vain for well over 4 hours to fall into dreamland, I finally decided to stop trying to sleep at 5 o’clock this morning. Within three days of first hearing it,
Tôtbringære had won its battle over my conscience, to the point it had invaded my thoughts during what should be my most peaceful hours – and so there I was, dawn having not yet even cracked, getting my fix of Menetekel’s warped creation like some kind of Helvetian junkie.
The concoction of barebones European folk and searing black metal is certainly an intoxicating one. Leading from the repetitive, drone-led ‘Viures Brunst’ (itself punctuated by animalistic, agonised yelps), ‘Die Bleiche Göttin’ aims straight for the jugular. Within the first 2 minutes, the listener is treated to Menetekel’s harrowing shrieks, simple yet memorable guitar lines, a stark bass presence, surging blast beats (provided by guest drummer Infermita) – and then, wobbling, paper thin solo sections, similar to those favoured by infamous French group Peste Noire. Such delights are found throughout
Tôtbringære. ‘Trommler Tod,’ arguably one of the most straightforward and destructive on the album, is still underpinned in its solo by surprisingly affecting organ, before devolving completely into what initially appears to be a jaunty Swiss folk song; similarly, ‘Der Ûzsieche und sîne Grimmede’ appears to be a no-holds barred melodic black metal snowstorm, yet gives way completely naturally to brief interludes of acoustic guitar and Jew’s harp, or mournful accordion breaks similar to those seen in the opener. The result is an album that both entices and flays - it's not hard to find moments of beauty hidden within
Tôtbringære's folds, but it's worth noting it's not a typically pleasant experience finding them.
Menetekel’s vocal performance, however, is the real showstopper here. Whilst listening, even as a non-native German speaker it’s possible to get a sense of the storytelling qualities on show; a little research reveals songs utilising dark fantasy elements, implanted in tales of murder, death and the afterlife. Throughout, Ungfell’s sole incumbent delivers such tomes almost solely through a nightmarish shriek, unwavering in its clarity and never reducing in its impact – the opening clarion call of ‘Trommler Tod’ is almost guaranteed to leave hairs standing on end, although ‘Wechselbalg’ benefits hugely from a little experimentation into lower registers.
To say that
Tôtbringære is an experience of auditory transportation may be a little far-fetched, but from the austere flute of ‘Viures Brunst’ to the haze of wind and fog that characterises ‘Der Opfersprung’s’ final moments, and all the terrible chaos in between, it’s hard to escape a feeling that Ungfell leaves a little piece of darkest Switzerland implanted in the brain and the heart. It’s been a good while since an album has affected me as much as this has, and I can only thank Menetekel for that.
Now, let’s work on that sleep.
