Azrael - Self

(Moribund, 2006)

Despite Varg’s bold separatist claims, nearly all music that can be considered “metal” is derived from rock music. The guitar-bass-drums-voice instrumentation and youthful rebellious spirit were hallmarks of hip-swayin’ rock ’n’ roll long before they grew horns and Marshall stacks. And a solid portion of modern metal persists in keeping the kids bouncin’ with fiery guitar leads, bang-worthy beats, and vocals extolling the virtues of release and revolution. When judged this way – as an heir to rock’s fist-pumping call to arms – Azrael’s Self is a miserable failure. As a mood piece for the wretched and the lonely, however, Self is pitch perfect.

Opening with four minutes of mournfully bowed strings, Self takes on its black mantle slowly. While the second track finally gets going with a galloping beat toward swarming guitar chords, the listener must wait a full twelve-and-a-half minutes before the first necrotic croaks gurgle over the frosty melody. In fact, only three of the album’s nine cuts forgo vocals, but the early instrumentals give the impression that the music to follow will take peculiar and exotic risks. As a rule, it does not. There are moments of satisfying subterranean chugging and inventive rhythmic digressions, but the bulk of the record staggers somewhere between writhing in the grimy corners of a moldy sepulcher and being chased through a darkened forest by some misshapen dead thing. Even “Sealing the Coffin,” the longest track here by about 3 minutes, does no more than revisit Azrael’s familiar patterns of ambling grief, while the jarring Snow Patrol intro to “Unto the Eye” quickly finds context as it collapses into the same tired gait.

Those who like their metal anthemic and neck-snapping will be left cold by Azrael’s spectral meanderings. If, however, you’d prefer to soundtrack an evening of dread and despair, pull up a frigid serving of Self and gulp down a soul-full of oblivion.