Inquisition’s last album, 2011’s Ominous Doctrines of the Perpetual Mystical Macrocosm was hailed as an instant classic, and rightly so. The Seattle black metal duo had been quiet for several years before its release; since then, though, they've thrown themselves into the business of being a full-time band. Their recent signing to major indie Season of Mist is a satisfying notch on the bedpost for vocalist/guitarist Dagon and drummer Incubus, who've reacted to their alliance with a “big label” by changing nothing whatsoever about their music or their approach towards occult exploration. Fans never expected them to react any differently, and the great wailing and gnashing of teeth that usually accompanies the announcement of a beloved underground band stumbling into the spotlight has been absent. After all, as even the webboard warriors seem to know, a new album is another opportunity for the band to stalk in and show everyone else how it’s done.
Obscure Verses for the Multiverse picks up where its predecessor left off. As usual, Dagon’s guitar work blends seamlessly with Incubus’ drums, and they remain merrily bass-free. Like some bizarro-world version of (until recently) bassless grind savants Pig Destroyer, they’ve hit upon and perfected a formula that would leave a lesser band sounding flat and soulless. Inquisition built their reputation upon a small selection of ironclad riffs and dynamic devices—every note follows a predetermined script, one that they’ve had memorized for decades, and it works.
Consider “Darkness Flows Towards Unseen Horizons”. A characteristic down-tempo melody opens the song, which hurtles immediately into a relentless blast, then back again. The band’s fondness for a good mid-song tempo shift has become one of their calling cards, and an Inquisition tune bereft of its appearance feels a bit off-kilter. Groove-laden tracks like “Master of the Cosmological Black Cauldron” and “Inversion of Ethereal White Stars” are beefy head-nodders that feature some of Dagon’s best guitar work as he manipulates and torments his strings into all manner of eerie tones. Outside of his propensity for note-bending, it’s worth noting the man’s uncanny knack for molding a gloomy shred of melody into an improbable earworm. While there are no obvious “hits” like on Ominous Doctinres, the album is still about as catchy as a pure black metal record has any right to be. A triumphantly powerful melodic break forms the centerpiece of a “Spiritual Plasma Evocation”, a track that despite its lack of ravens or winterdemonry, emphatically gives legs to the Immortal comparisons that have dogged the band for years.
The songs’ carefully cultivated atmosphere and aim towards an organic-sounding production leaves plenty of room for Dagon’s esoteric tales of space, time, and the Devil to unfold. This album is focused even more heavily on the cosmic and the metaphysical than past efforts, and the lyrics are an absolute trip. As the title track goes, "Only darkness in the skies/ When you came light was shined/ Wisdom from cosmic snakes of dimensions you create/ Spawning humans as a slave serving kings of astral thrones." Here’s hoping you can understand them, though, since Dagon’s infamous vocals are in full display.
His froggy croak may sound like a direct descendent of Abbath’s own strangled ribbeting, but comes from a far more evil place; it’s the former’s effort to sound as inhuman and alien as possible to accompany their occult cosmic ceremonies. In truth, though they began life as a thrash band, Inquisition still predates Immortal by several years. While the two bands developed and released their first important works during the same time period, it’s worth noting that Dagon was already croaking up a storm before Abbath even donned the paint. It seems almost passé to make a reference to the Norwegian demons here, but the parallel between the two entities’ melodic make up (not to mention that voice) is undeniable.
As the story goes, Inquisition originally formed while Dagon was living in Colombia in 1989, predating the famed Second Wave’s most active period and ensuring that the band’s early days would be spent learning from greats like Reencarnación, Blasfemia, and Parabellum. They’ve been there since the beginning, and will be here making outstanding records long after the rest of their peers have given up the ghost. Dagon’s 1996 move to the United States only aided them in their mission, and now, it seems as though this cult favorite is finally beginning to reap the rewards of a lifetime of hard graft and black magic.
