Deathspell Omega totally screwed over the nascent French black metal scene once they decided to ditch the raw blasphemy of their first few releases and embrace their well-known hypertechnical riff mangling. It’s now impossible for any band of Gauls with even the wispiest shred of experimental ambition to escape a comparison to everyone’s favorite metaphysical Satanists. Even Blut Aus Nord are seldom mentioned outside of the same breath. Do the band in question favor slightly cockeyed guitar melodies? DsO reference. Is there a whiff of pretension, maybe, or earnest philosophical leanings in the lyrics? DsO reference. Could the word “hypnotic” or “angular” be thrown in there without much effort? Definite DsO reference ahead. It’s with this brush that their slightly younger countrymen in Aosoth will undoubtedly be slathered, and while they may share a disjointed chord or two, there’s a lot more concealed beneath the surface.
Aosoth started as a side project for several members of the long-established Antaeus, when enterprising (and prolific) vocalist MkM decided he necessitated yet another mouthpiece for his harsh proclamations. Whereas Antaeus’ more traditional method of black metal is dissonant, ritualistic, and overtly hostile, this new project dabbled in thrashier, more melodic fare before abandoning such frivolities in favor of their current off-kilter, progressive bent. Aosoth have grown in leaps and bounds since that first 2002 release (fittingly, a split album with Antaeus), and IV: Arrow In Heart is their most mature album to date. While their brother band invariably head straight for the soft spot, Aosoth prefer to take the long way round, stopping at the rack, the thumbscrew, and the cat o’nine along the way.
The album demands attention from the first note and the ensuing head nodding groove seals the deal. “An Arrow In Heart” serves as a perfect statement of intent, showcasing each elemental piece-- MkM’s wretchedly on-point vocal scrapings, the tightly controlled drumming, the surprisingly prominent bass, the unexpected scraps of understated melody, and above all, the weird, menacing riffs, which wax deliberate, rhythmical, and cerebral in turn. The slow, churning interlude halfway through cuts the lights, and the ice-cold blasting finish seals the tomb. If you’re looking for another Transilvanian Hunger, this ain’t it.
But it’s no Si Monvmentvm Reqvires, Circvmspice either. Aosoth are careful to balance their avant-garde leanings with brutish intensity, refusing to let the listener forget for even a moment that this is still black fucking metal. The obtuse, cyclical quality of the guitar work is captivating (see the second half of “Under Nails & Fingertips” or the entirety of mammoth album closer, “Ritual Marks of Penitence”) and MkM’s tormented howls, growls, croaks, and moans animate and enliven droning, drawn-out passages that often veer dangerously close to collapsing in onto themselves. Though MkM’s vocal prowess is a given and the guitar work is the album’s selling point, the real heavy lifting is handled by the rhythm section, most notably the bass. Unlike black metal’s usual penchant for thin, trebly mixes, Aosoth are all about the low end, and bassist IRNVI does a stellar job. His acrobatic, expressive strings lend crucial heft and body to tracks like “One With the Prince With a Thousand Enemies” and “Temple of Knowledge”, single-handedly propelling the album’s Satanic swing. Once again, Aosoth defy convention without bothering to publicize it. Their style is understated and focused, and it works.
