Fórn - The Departure of Consciousness

Written by Erik Highter.

Artwork by Bryan Proteau.

On their full-length debut, The Departure of Consciousness, Boston quintet Fórn prove that slow pounding visceral doom didn't end when Asunder split asunder or Burning Witch was reduced to smoldering ash. While audibly influenced by those two bands, they finds their own path through the funeral doom morass. Fórn understand glaciers not only move slowly but that they abrade and pulverize the landscape they cross; their songs contain blackened sections like ogives, and vocal shrieks that break out of the guttural depths, as surprising as snow-covered crevasses in the ice.

After the "pomp and fell circumstance" march of the instrumental introduction "Emergence", those abrasive elements come into focus on the "Dweller on the Threshold". With thickly distorted bass and guitars, and a varied, almost tribal, drumbeat, "Dweller on the Threshold" summons the sludge before settling into a cymbal heavy more traditional rhythm. But just as the Neurosis-tinted sludge quickly gave way to classic slow doom, that sound is suddenly and effectively fractured by what can best be described as a black metal breakdown. Vocalist Chris Pinto, previously employing the thick, guttural howl – all phlegm and fire – so common to the genre, suddenly wails and cries like his spine is being ripped from his body. Paired with the tremolo guitar attack it proves unsettling, unexpected, and entirely welcome. The fall back to sludgy doom is false relief; the dweller is still there, but the glimpse of the true horror of its form recedes into nightmare.

The unease continues through "Gates of the Astral Plane", where once again Fórn upset expectations with shifts and styles that are rarely explored within the context of funeral doom. But it is the next track, "Alexithymia", that is the heart of The Departure of Consciousness in both sound and theme. Alexithymia is the term for the inability to come to grips with one's emotions. This manifests as a lack of empathy, confusion of physical and emotional stimuli, and is sometimes connected to outburst of rage or crying because of a distinct and constant dissatisfaction with the world. Knowing this unlocks the album, with its stylistic twists and turns and abrupt moments of rage and forlorn keening. The song itself encapsulates that feeling of disconnect and frustration, with the circular guitar figure becoming a feedback loop without release. When the rage breaks the circle, it's temporary; even as Pinto's vocals seethe the circular guitar figure returns and "Alexithymia" closes in once again.

That failure is a pall that hangs over the whole record, reaching its darkest depths over the paired closers "Suffering in the Eternal Void" and "Cerebral Intermission". The violent anger of the early tracks are here muted and distant. The titular void renders the howling impotent, and the only answer is to shut down. That Fórn end the record with an intermission is one of the driest, darkest laughs of 2014. Gallows humor that causes even the hangman to raise an eyebrow.

The most astonishing part of Fórn's debut is how entrancing they make psychic and spiritual desolation. The Departure of Consciousness is filled with memorable hooks and motifs, and because of the sublime mixing and mastering each mournful cry and distorted riff has its own space to resonate both sonically and in the mind. They also don't wear out their welcome; at 35-odd minutes, the album never loses its focus and is all the better for it. Fórn's glacially slow march is just beginning, and the metal world better take notice before their just so much till left behind.

[Go to the post to view the Bandcamp player]

Falls of Rauros - Believe in no Coming Shore

By Justin C. I've made no secret of my love for Falls of Rauros. 2011's The Light That Dwells in Rotten Wood was a revelation, and their split with Panopticon served as a tasty snack to hold me over until their new full length, Believe in no Coming Shore. The album starts quietly, with a short-but-sweet instrumental showing off their folk-infused guitar chops.

By Justin C.


I've made no secret of my love for Falls of Rauros. 2011's The Light That Dwells in Rotten Wood was a revelation, and their split with Panopticon served as a tasty snack to hold me over until their new full length, Believe in no Coming Shore.

The album starts quietly, with a short-but-sweet instrumental showing off their folk-infused guitar chops. If anything, they've further expanded the realm of influence they use on this album. You get snippets of modern folk, classic rock, and tasty blues-based harmonies. Sometimes I feel like I hear a little from Scottish folkster Bert Jansch, a bit of Zeppelin, a snippet of The Allman Brothers, but the brilliance here lies in how well all of these things have been assimilated into Falls of Rauros's sound--there's never a moment where you say, "Eh, that's just a revamped riff from so-and-so," because they've taken all these sounds and made them their own. Of course, that's not to say this is all a folky-rock party--those black metal screams kick in soon enough, and the drums blast away underneath as if this mash-up of light and heavy were the most natural thing in the world.

As much as this album is a loving showcase of guitar compositions, nobody in this band is slacking off. The drums are fierce, restrained, and intricate at the same time, and the interplay of the bass with both the guitars and the drums is incredibly well done. You can hear all of this because the album is mixed in a way somewhat unusual for metal--all of the instruments and vocals are more or less at the same level. It's the kind of production more common to jazz albums, but it works amazingly here, letting each individual instrument room to breathe.

This is one of those albums that makes me want to guide you through track to track, pointing out all of the things that have delighted me, but that can be deadly boring. If one track shows off the full breadth of the sound here, it's probably "Ancestors of Smoke". The first half of the track is no-fussing-around black metal, with tremolos and a push-and-pull percussion dynamic. But at the five-minute mark, the song comes to a dead stop and reemerges with earnest acoustic guitar, adding in a bluesy electric over top, slowly building. It's the perfect blend of folk styles that manages to sound true to form but fresh and modern at the same time. It's not long before those screams blow back in, adding in perfect tension and release.

Listening to this album, I sometimes felt like it was written for me, but I suspect I won't be the only that feels this way. The music is beautiful, and the emotions expressed range through melancholy, righteous anger, hope, fear, triumph, and all the other feelings that we don't necessarily have words for. The best kind of music fits into those wordless spaces and let us feel those things that we'd otherwise be unsure of what to do with, and Falls of Rauros certainly makes the best kind of music.

Temple of Void - Of Terror and the Supernatural

By Dave Schalek. As soon as you listen to Of Terror and the Supernatural, you’ll immediately think that Temple of Void hail from Sweden, circa 1992 or so. Turns out that’s not the case, however, as this quintet hails from Detroit, Michigan.

By Dave Schalek.

Cover painting by Bruce Pennington.

As soon as you listen to Of Terror and the Supernatural, you’ll immediately think that Temple of Void hail from Sweden, circa 1992 or so. Turns out that’s not the case, however, as this quintet hails from Detroit, Michigan. Nonetheless, Of Terror and the Supernatural, the debut full-length from Temple of Void, is a direct descendant of classic Swedish death metal and doom/ death metal from bands as widely varied as Grave, early Opeth, and Edge Of Sanity. Toss in modern nods to doom metal giants such as Evoken and a gigantic production, and you've all the hallmarks of a minor classic.

Photo by Carmelo Española.

Frankly, Of Terror and the Supernatural totally snuck up on me as I was expecting basic death metal and not much else. Certainly, you’ll get that impression right out of the gate with “Embalmers Art”, a straightforward death metal track to open the album with bludgeoning riffs and a mid-paced tempo. Obviously influenced by Grave and other, early Sunlight Studios-era bands, Temple of Void soon downshift to a slow dirge, a pattern that repeats throughout Of Terror and the Supernatural. Songs such as “Beyond the Ultimate” and “Invocation of Demise” also demonstrate Temple of Void’s fascination with mid-paced Swedish death metal.

Photo by Carmelo Española.

The basic pattern of death/ doom metal may be somewhat unoriginal, but the album is very good throughout, and Temple of Void wisely add some interesting songwriting elements to their delivery, elements that separates them from the hordes of other bands treading the same waters. Hints of subtlety begin with “To Carry This Corpse Evermore”, a pleasant acoustical, instrumental composed and played by the singer, Michael Erdody.

Photo by Carmelo Española.

More changes appear in “Bargain in Death”, a nearly eleven minute long song deep into the album that serves as the centerpiece with a huge riff enhanced by a slow pace, only to shift to an uptick in tempo, and, subsequently, into a slow dirge enhanced with a spoken word sample and a booming bass that is given room to breathe. A melody creeps in later with a nice guitar solo.

A showcase song, “Bargain in Death” easily demonstrates that Temple of Void are a band to watch in future releases. "Of Terror and the Supernatural" is much better than the average death/ doom metal album, and is certainly worthy of your investigation.