Ihsahn’s work has always been forward-thinking and progressive, but its roots have also been easily traceable to that of earlier masters. From the Wagnerian fury of Anthems-era Emperor to the baroque intricacies of Prometheus, The Adversary and angL, it’s obvious that Ihsahn has studied and absorbed classical music and theory in a way that few metal musicians have. So it’s appropriate that his third solo album is titled After, because it moves past those classical influences into something much more post-modern and unclassifiable.

At first, album opener “Barren Lands,” with its stuttering rhythms and unpredictable guitar line, seems like a familiar extension to the sound of the previous two solo albums. No big surprise, given the return of Spiral Architect’s prog-masters Lars Koppang Norberg on bass and Asgeir Mickelson on drums. Yet it’s more of a conundrum as well, simultaneously brutish and restrained, dissonant and peculiarly melodic.

Its follow-up, “A Grave Inversed,” is quite the opposite. Even on its own, it’d be the most ferocious thing Ihsahn has done since “In the Wordless Chamber” (from Prometheus), but there’s one thing that takes it completely over the edge, to levels of batshit-insanity: a saxophone.

By now, you’ve probably heard that the saxophone, courtesy of Jorgen Munkeby (of Norwegian extreme-jazz outfit Shining – and not the Swedish black metal act), has a starring role in After, and it’s such an unexpected choice that it could have easily been a gimmick. In fact, I’ve only heard the sax used well in metal a few times, the last being Czech black metal act Oblomov‘s 2005 release Mighty Cosmic Dances. There, it was only used sparingly, and only as a strange addition to their astral cacophony.

On After, the sax is much more integrated and vital, although its initial appearance, during “A Grave Inversed,” is extremely bizarre – a psychotic warble that I can only describe as the accompaniment to a clown car massacre. Yet that’s only one of Munkeby’s voices – on later tracks, his sax croons, keens, brays and wails like a duet partner, bringing a startling amount of emotion and catharsis to the entire album.

This is most apparent on the ten-minute “Undercurrent,” at the album’s midpoint. In the track’s first half, shimmering guitars, submerged bass and smooth vocals shift like veins of hidden water beneath tectonic rock and ice. Of course, all that subdued pressure comes rocketing to the surface in the track’s proggy, roiling second half. Wait for Ihsahn’s layered, triumphant vocals at the 8-minute mark, and then the gorgeous, tortured sax melody that joins in – it’s not just my favorite crescendo on the album, it’s one of the most memorable passages of all of Ihsahn’s solo work.

Same goes for the ironically-titled “Austere,” a lush ballad featuring Hammond organ, delicate acoustics and rippling post-rock/sludge dynamics. It’s Ihsahn meets Isis, and it’s utterly captivating. Its counterpart comes earlier, with the soulful title track. “After” features the same sinuous, eccentric melodies employed elsewhere, but they’re shaped and soothed by Ihsahn’s honeyed vocals, more confident than they’ve ever been. (They’re also a wonderful counterpart to the raptor-croak we all know so well.) “Frozen Lakes on Mars” and “Heaven’s Black Sea” form another linked pair – “Lakes” a straightforward, churning stomp with a clean-crooned chorus, and “Black Sea” its more majestic, martial and ambitious reprise.

Finally, monstrous album closer “On the Shores” opens with the same saxophone melody that closed out “Undercurrent,” but it’s rendered as a bleak, bluesy eulogy. But whereas the earlier track went out with a despondent cry, “Shores” ends the album with a tsunami of blackened prog – undercurrents erupting from beneath austere, frozen lakes and whipping Heaven’s black sea into a grave inversed.

After is the most holistic, thoughtful and constructed of all of Ihsahn’s solo albums, but it may not hit you at first. It may not even sink in after several listens. Spend the time with it, though, and it will unfurl and envelop you in a way that few albums even attempt to. In many ways, it reminds me of 2005’s black/prog album The Sense Apparatus, by fellow Norwegians Frantic Bleep. That release also seemed difficult and unyielding at first, but has since become one of my favorite go-to records when I want an solitary, inward sonic journey. After will be giving it some serious competition in the coming months – if not the new decade.

[Visit the band's website]

---

Comments