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I’ll put my biases right up front so you can decide whether to trust me or not: It’s entirely possible I’ve become Michael Rekevics’s unofficial PR man. I’ve reviewed a lot of his projects (and there are many), including Yellow Eyes and Vilkacis, and I’ve certainly enjoyed his work in Fell Voices and Vorde. I’ve also had the opportunity to see him play with at least three of the bands he performs in or masterminds, and I’ve been consistently blown away by his overwhelming intensity, regardless of whether he’s drumming, playing bass, or singing. I’ve probably used some version of this simile before, but it’s like watching a nuclear bomb detonate in musical form. Rekevics himself said that his influences are “simply powerful, evocative, melodically bold, and honest black metal. No posturing, no irony, just ancient power and timeless force.” And he lives his unique take on those influences on stage.
Vanum as a recording band has been Rekevics and Kyle Morgan, but on their latest, Ageless Fire, they’ve brought their two long-time live members, E. Priesner and L. Sheppard, into the band in a more official capacity. The resulting evolution has made for a Vanum album that meets your expectations--sweeping USBM with walls of sound--while expanding their sound from their previous full-length, Realm of Sacrifice.
Realm of Sacrifice is, to my ears, a darker record, and although Ageless Fire is by no means “the softer side of Vanum,” there’s a stronger musical sense of power and triumph. There’s a striking moment in “Under the Banner of Death” when Rekevics, in his trademark, mid-range growl, proclaims, “Under the banner of death / I am alive / I declare my being / in the language of fire.” I’m not going to all lit-crit and dissect the meaning of this, but it’s hard to deny as a fist-raised, screaming-from-the-mountain-tops moment.
The album as a whole is bit tricky to tease apart. Each song tends to showcase all or most of the band’s signature sounds, making a track-by-track rundown kind of pointless. Sometimes you let the “sheets of sound” (as John Coltrane’s music was once described) wash over you, and other times you dig in with a more singular, straightforward riff. One aspect I particularly enjoy is the twin guitar work that the album returns to again and again. Lines harmonize, and sometimes offer a bit of counterpoint. Sometimes they’re isolated in the quiet, and sometimes they ride on top of the waves.
So have I further sunk into Rekevics fanboyism? Yeah, probably. Fight me. Sure, I suppose there’s always a chance he’ll ultimately spread himself too thin and start repeating himself, but it hasn’t happened yet, and I’m still in.