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| Artwork by Travis Smith. |
Doom isn't for everyone. The plodding paces and subsequently stretched out song lengths replete throughout the doomisphere don't always appeal to fans looking for a quick riff fix. Its frequent incorporation of prog and ambient stylings likewise can be seen as a turn-off for the trve/br000tal crowd, and for some strange reason many people find that melancholic doesn't make them happy. Baffling. The rest of us, though, know doom to be a rich environment for immersive, emotional experiences beyond the possibilities offered by, say, Goatpenis; to those about to doom, I salute you, and I now present you with one of 2019's absolute best tidings of doom: Varaha's A Passage for Lost Years.
Astute readers have likely gleaned that A Passage for Lost Years is hardly a chaotic affair. There are plenty of aggressive moments and blackened bits, but by and large Lost Years' greatest strength lies in its gentle embrace of clean guitars and violin melodies. Atmosphere is everything here, and Varaha successfully instill and sustain a sombre sense of gravity via masterful utilization of the lighter side of sound. Vocalist and guitarist Fabio Brienza is right in his element amidst this balanced melancholy, shifting from delicate crooning to agonized shrieks with deft aplomb. Think modern Katatonia only lighter and heavier, and you'll be on the right track.
While the compositional ghost of Katatonia present haunts the great cold distance of Lost Years' atmospheric reach, the guitars are largely possessed by the weeping spirit of Viva Emptiness. From the scales used to the ghostly tone of the guitars, the mournful melodies found on A Passage for Lost Years are of an achingly familiar caliber that the Norrman brothers themselves would be proud of. Tracks like "Refrained" or "My World and Yours" recall Last Fair Deal Gone Down with better production and more ambitious songwriting, and if you need to read any more than that to compel you to explore Lost Years then you probably didn't need to be reading this in the first place.
For all the power Varaha wield by guiding listeners with a less-than-heavy hand, make no mistake: these Chicagoans know how to bring the noise. After all, the reason the peaceful presence of bassoon, cello and viola works so well is because it consistently yields explosive, blackened payouts. The transition from morose placidity to death-doom aggression during the first few moments of opener "Severance" makes it clear that Varaha understand balance, and things only become more mesmerizing from there. Lost Years shudders, weeps and crawls forth with organic sincerity, lashing out exactly when it needs to in a feat of expert compositional momentum.
To describe A Passage for Lost Years as the best elements of each incarnation of Katatonia would do a slight disservice to Varaha's own distinct sound, and yet it would hardly be unfair - or anything less than a heartfelt compliment. The tonal duality of Lost Years is as impressive as it is enjoyable, and the album propels itself along with a deceptive grace that completely belies its 68+ minute run time. Simply put: if doom is your thing, A Passage for Lost Years is your thing, and if Katatonia are your thing then you have no business not knowing this thing.
