Reviewing My Favorites: Kalmah - The Groan of Wind (Song)

Kalmah are a perfect example of a band that allows me to gladly tolerate nothing but harsh, gutteral vocals - their melodies and overall sound make more than up for it.

Let's take The Groan of Wind (off The Black Waltz from 2006).
The way the song starts, so energetic, melodic, almost hymn-like, is a perfect indication of how Kalmah manage to balance out their death vocals - sometimes. They can go significantly heavier, but they shine where they don't. It's an unfair thing to say, of course, because to all those that typically don't enjoy (Melodic) Death Metal because it's too fast, heavy, or un-melodic in their ears, the song's intro already won't do.
It's in comparison to their other songs - especially off Swampsong - where it becomes obvious that the typical Death Metal patterns are interlaced with just enough melody to offset the certain something that makes them nothing but aggressive. Case in point: the passage that starts at around 26 seconds into the song.

The keyboard dominates the musical mix at many points throughout The Groan of Wind, and where they don't the guitars pick up the slack by being tuned into the typical sound for a Metal hymn. To me, this turns down the harshness of the vocals by several degrees - even if it's just illusionary.

Two parts of the song stick out to me beyond this interesting interplay of heaviness and melody: the bridge and the song's outro.

As soon as The Groan of Wind breaks down, the bass takes over, slowing the whole thing down and carrying it into an unknown menace - at least for a few seconds. As short as this part is, it's wonderful and reminds me of a dark dungeon far below the surface, where something may be lurking just behind the next corner; the song's video doesn't exactly help with dispelling that imagination either.

The outro has the keyboard rear up and launch into a solo that's even shorter than the bridge, but it makes the difference just the same. There's simply too much energy contained within the song and it has to get out somehow, be it in one final burst that causes the whole song to shut down in the end - audibly.

If you choose to listen to the song, do yourself a favor and watch the video as well. It's a treat and matches the music perfectly in all its glorious blackness. The album is called The Black Waltz for a reason.
Plus, you wouldn't want to miss the band pulling those silly mad faces while performing underground.

You can watch the video on Youtube: Kalmah - The Groan of Wind (unfortunately, while it is the official video, it seems to be available only on third-party channels.)

Review: Frost* - Towerblock (Song)

One thing that first attracted me to the glory that is Frost* was Jem Godfrey's sheer madness and keyboard wizardry. I had found my way into Heavy Metal only a few years prior, and while I loved the (sometimes extended) guitar solos typically featured in that genre, nothing could have prepared me for what I heard on the new web radio station I discovered back then - it must have been the defunct Progged Radio.

Black Light Machine (off Milliontown, their first album) was one of the first songs I heard there, and for the better part of five minutes it preents to be a fairly normal song, albeit standing out with its long solos and instrumental sections. The songs I've been used to until that point would have ended there. Oh, but not this one.
After six and a half minutes it starts building up again, building up into something I had simply never heard before. Trippy, glitchy keyboard sections followed by solos that make you feel like you're watching the star gate sequence in 2001: A Space Odyssey
There's not much opportunity to breathe once it starts winding down again, as it launches right back into madness. I think listening to it for the first time must have left me mentally exhausted - if not suffering from a mental orgasm.

Towerblock shares this madness, but does not copy it. It's not simply more of the same.
While it does mirror the sharp left turn Black Light Machine takes, Towerblack makes its predecessor sound as if it is somewhat collected and with direction.
What we have here can only be described as a sneeze-explosion of Jem Godfrey Prog madness.

But let's start at the song's beginning.

The song preceding it on Falling Satellites, Numbers, carries over for a few seconds - in rather gloomy fashion - but this eerie intro sequence then abruptly cuts into a different passage with similar atmosphere. Mechanical sounds of all sorts soon allow the song to evolve into a piece that makes one feel nostalgic by proxy through both music and lyrics, easily achieving its goal: to set that particular mood - only to break it. Quite literally. Sounds of glass breaking sweep in violently, and there’s that wild right turn that mirrors the sharp left from Black Light Machine.

Choppy modern beats, samples, and keyboard swipes crash together in a glorious collision which then – maybe a little too suddenly – turns into proper keyboard wizardry that let’s you know exactly which band’s playing right now. And that’s just the first half of the song. In contrast, the second half is basically compelled to be less eventful by comparison. It combines that burst of energy with the nostalgic lines from earlier and never even comes close to being boring through its many layers. Only today, when listening to the song on repeat, did I become distinctly aware of the pre-madness lyrics being mixed under the chorus in the song's final third.

Where the prog-explosion propelled it forward, the rest of the song also lifts upwards, providing several more memorable moments. A passage I’ll never ever get out of my head again is the way Godfrey sings “there’ll be nothing left of your devastation” near the four minute mark, a chill-inducing moment, to make an understatement.

Eventually, Towerblock enters a controlled stumble and – like a machine shutting down - returns to a glitchy pile of sounds, instantly joining the ranks of Hyperventilate, Black Light Machine, or the duo that is Dear Dead Days and Falling Down: songs of which I’ll never tire.

Review: Frost* - Signs (Song)

Originally, I had planned to write up a review for the full Frost* album Falling Satellites.
It's been out for a while now, and while dibbling and dabbling here and there for reviews I had one third to half of it done. Yet, I was rambling too much and saying too little, so it ended up as a draft somewhere deep down in the archives.

Enter December 1st: in pure Frostmas tradition the video for Signs was released today, and what better opportunity to revisit that album by at least writing a few lines about this song?

As per the tradition for third albums, Falling Satellites is a bit of an odd one out. There's a number of reasons why that's the case and one of them is this song.
I do like it a lot, but it takes a while to wrangle its way into the soundscape that typically surrounds a Frost* song. It may even come off as completely inconsistent, but that's rather a feature of the song's first few minutes.

Right off the bat, Signs is oddly intimate and sounds like it'd be more suited to one of John Mitchell's various (solo) outputs - there is a certain familiarity to the recent It Bites albums, for sure, and that's not just because Mitchell provides lead vocals on Signs.
However, this isn't exactly a fair assessment, as Falling Satellites is all about new experiences that are both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. "Telling your friends that you've just outgrown them", as Mitchell sings, is a sentiment one may feel somewhere deep down inside - in a form that defies words - yet it keeps boiling until it reaches that certain threshold where it can't be ignored any further and has to be confronted, with nothing but uncharted territory ahead.


The song's first half is fairly standard in its structure, but makes up for it musically and in pulling your heartstrings: one of the four chorus points is bound to hit close to home.
After two and a half minutes, the song then gradually merges more Frost*-typical elements into its core, absorbing the unfamiliar, yet familiar mood in order to process it, coming out on the other side with something greater than the sum of its parts.
Signs kicks every single doubt whether this is actually a Frost* song out the window about a minute later, when keyboard and guitar work reminiscent of The Dividing Line joins in and drives the song forward into said uncharted territory; but now there's help in dealing with it as the familiarity that is the Frost*-sound follows suit.

Towards the end, Signs builds up some steam while repeating the chorus, charging through the wall that's made of weakness - a musical therapy session of sorts that lends support by sharing the energy the song is creating.

Signs grew on me. It had to grow, as that's an integral part of the song: growth, thus overcoming the ghosts that haunt us. In one way or another.

I really hope Frost* (or their label) decide to promote Falling Satellites with another music video, and I dearly hope, against all sanity, that it's Towerblock as that gives me another excuse to write about that song. It's simply too mad to ignore.

You can watch the official video on Youtube: Frost* - Signs

There's also a fantastic video for Numbers, off the same album: Frost* - Numbers