The controversy surrounding Opeth’s creative direction is – much like their past musical output – a combination of factors that is practically impossible to sum up with a mere sentence or two. If
Pale Communion has cemented one thing, it’s that Opeth are not the same band they were at the turn of the millennium and, truth be told, they couldn’t afford to be. While their back catalogue will be revered for generations to come, creative listlessness had become one of many concerns for the Swedes by the time
Watershed had dropped, and the reality was that the band’s sound was in need of a significant revision. Nevertheless, in erasing any semblance of aggression from their sound, the remaining progressive element is far less impactful that it would otherwise have been.
Pale Communion makes this downfall more obvious than ever.
One has to question the wisdom of Opeth’s decision to rely entirely on their progressive rock stylings, as opposed to developing their existing formula into something new. Part of why their sound of old was so well received was not because its individual components were particularly novel or spectacular, but because of the rich contrast created when the two were combined. Though
Pale Communion is a competent progressive rock album, as part of Opeth’s discography it feels like a missing piece to a puzzle – integral to the completion of a greater picture but nondescript by itself. Continuing on the path set by the highly divisive
Heritage,
Pale Communion tones down the eccentricities of its predecessor for a more immediate and streamlined experience. As a result, there are fewer moments that will leave you bewildered, but simultaneously fewer moments of surprise or particular interest.
The lack of idiosyncrasy is worsened by the band drawing from a larger pool of influences and channelling them in as linear a manner as possible. “Eternal Rains Will Come” is an upbeat tune that wouldn’t sound out of place on Camel’s
Mirage, while “Faith in Others” is an unabashed tribute to King Crimson’s “Starless”. However, notwithstanding the lack of originality and “safe” execution, this isn’t to say Opeth have forgotten how to write an enjoyable song. Yes, Michael Akerfelt’s constant attempt to sound as poignant as possible comes across as a little superfluous, but the instrumentation supporting him is enough to overcome any vocal blemishes. Axenrot’s dextrous drumming never fails to provide an interesting rhythmic backdrop for the harmonic middle ground, whether it’s “Voice of Treason’s” climactic grandeur or the sturdy rhythms of “Goblin”. Regardless,
Pale Communion’s apparent lack of a driving force means while pleasant and infectious, it remains a little underwhelming as a whole.
The insurgence that followed Opeth’s creative shift was not merely in reaction to what some have patronisingly called a “lack of growls”, but a loss of the dynamic energy that arguably characterised Opeth’s sound more than any other attribute. Without one to compliment the other, the sole remaining element is exposed as an inconspicuous gear to a clockwork mechanism that has ceased to exist. Though it would be wrong to label
Pale Communion a failure, when it happens to belong to such a discography, one can’t help but consider it a fall from grace.
