As a longtime Opeth fan (my favorite band for almost 14 years), I can’t say I was that surprised when Mikael Akerfeldt announced that the new album would be a completely prog rock affair. No growls, no thick, distorted guitars, no death metal at all. Yet it’s a natural transition for a band that, from the very beginning, has melded progressive rock and death metal like no other band before, and has become the inspirational blueprint for countless bands since. And once the initial shock wore off that we wouldn’t be hearing that cavernous, expressive roar for awhile (perhaps a long while), I began to get excited and curious about what a fully unleashed progressive rock Opeth might sound like. Fans know that Mikael Akerfeldt is a huge collector and connoisseur of obscure 60s and 70s prog and folk, so this new evolution would most likely be a direct conduit into that obsession.

Well, Heritage is finally here, and what a long, strange trip it is.

First off, there’s no mistaking that it’s Opeth: the intricately layered, call-and-response compositions; the fluid, coiling guitars; the jazzy drumming; and of course, Mikael’s silky-clean croons. All of that is still here. The recording is warm, organic, nakedly honest, and the musicianship, as always, is exquisite. And yet, this definitely sounds… different.

Lead single “The Devil’s Orchard” opens as a groovy, serpentine jam with snappy drumming and shock-occult lyrics – “God is dead,” Mikael chants, the first time we’ve ever heard anything this overtly anti-religion from Opeth. After that, the song floats off into a creepy dirge of warbling organs (picture a Satanic ritual aboard the Yellow Submarine, while lost in the Sea of Monsters) before unexpectedly brightening once more. Follow-up “I Feel the Dark” (one of my favorites here) wraps its first half around a gorgeous, nimble guitar lick and bassline heartbeat, but then, strangely, veers into a massive doom-lurch of organs in its second half. Listen closer, though, and you’ll realize that the organs are playing the same minor-key mellotron melody used in the second segment. And two songs later, “Nepenthe,” which starts with a similarly low-key ballad, explodes into a peculiar, staccato jazz freak-out that’s unlike anything we’ve ever heard from the guys (except maybe the really weird off-time lurch in the center of “The Drapery Falls”). And “Famine,” perhaps the strangest and most patchwork song on the album, traipses through an eerie dreamworld of folk, prog and doom, and features a guest performance by Afro-Cuban percussionist Alex Acuña and a terrifying flute solo by Bjorn Json Lindh.

These, plus other tracks like the soft and soothing “Haxprocess” (which means ‘witch trial’) and the two lovely bonus tracks, “Pyre” (the only track co-written with a band member, in this case guitarist Fredrik Akesson) and “Face in the Snow,” are mostly mid-tempo, moody affairs. However, there are a couple of up-tempo numbers as well, like the swaggering, Zeppelin-esque “Slither.” It’s the most straightforward thing on Heritage (aside from the beautiful intro and outro tracks, “Heritage” and “Marrow of the Earth”), and perhaps one of the most traditional ‘rock’ songs that the band has ever written. Akerfeldt also says that it’s dedicated to Ronnie James Dio (and as stated in the liner notes, the entire album is as well).

“The Lines in My Hand,” towards the end of the album, is peppier and more diverse. It starts off like a late-summer Grateful Dead jam that blends jumpy drums, playful bass, delicate flamenco-influenced guitars, pulsing keys and harmonized vocals, then breaks out into a rollicking Cream homage in its second half. Interestingly enough, this was the first track that Akerfeldt wrote for the new album (after two more traditional death-prog tracks which failed to heat his blood). It must have been hugely exciting for him to really unleash himself on the rest of the album after this first success.

Yet despite all of that colorful musical expression and experimentation, Heritage is a fairly sedate album, steeped in mystery and melancholy. Not a big surprise for Opeth of course – they’ve always evoked that mood, all the way back to Orchid and Morningrise. Still, I would have loved at least one or two more groovy, shambling monster jams like “The Devil’s Orchard” to give it some more life. A few more big peaks or climaxes wouldn’t have hurt either. This is probably compounded by the fact that while “I Feel the Dark,” “Nepenthe,” “Haxprocess,” “Famine” and “Folklore” all travel to some interesting places, they also all begin with a soft, soothing ballad. That bifurcated structure in each song starts creating a repetitive flow in the album overall, despite all the weirdness packed within. Of course, the balladry is all really lovely, but I’d have preferred even more unhinged dynamics and variety throughout Heritage.

All that said, “Folklore” wraps things up on a satisfying note. As I mentioned above, it also adopts the bifurcated song structure, but somehow its flow seems more natural and builds to an exciting peak. In a way, I think it would make the perfect model for Opeth’s new direction. It’s drenched in 70s mystique and nostalgia, but it also nails the cresting dynamics which have made past tracks like “Demon of the Fall,” “Blackwater Park” and “Burden” such triumphs; it proves that you don’t need death roars and crushing guitars to quicken the pulse.

As you can probably tell, Heritage is not an album with quick and easy rewards. Even without the transition from galloping prog-death into gauzy 70s prog, it’s still very odd and haunting, and a bit more sedate than expected. Still, I find myself drawn back to it again and again, soaking in more details and making new connections – and that makes Heritage as much a true Opeth album as any of their other works. And it’s only the first step in the band’s new journey – I really look forward to hearing the explorations on the next release.

 

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