"Our legacy can only be assured if we continually burn down the past and plant seeds in the ashes," proclaims Neurosis guitarist-vocalist Steve Von Till in a trailer for the band's latest album, Honor Found in Decay. It's got a nice ring to it, but might not be the best description of the veteran Oakland group's M.O. Sure, Neurosis' work has evolved over the course of a 27-year career-- from the gritty metallic punk of 1987's Pain of Mind to the harrowing post-hardcore prog of 1993's Enemy of the Sun and on to the majestic art doom of their current phase-- but the progression has been gradual, a series of seasonal shifts rather than fiery upheavals. That unhurried pace has helped make the band into a redwood of the underground, a model for Mastodon, Isis, and countless other crews of metal-oriented aesthetes.
So don't go into Honor Found in Decay expecting an abrupt left turn. The crushing, luminous, texturally resplendent suites here take their place alongside three Neurosis LPs' worth of similar material, from 2001's A Sun That Never Sets through 2007's Given to the Rising. Like those releases, Honor draws as much on gothic folk and unstable, sample-accented ambience-- respective hallmarks of solo records by Von Till and fellow guitarist-vocalist Scott Kelly, and Neurosis' soundscape-focused alter ego, Tribes of Neurot-- as on the band's signature doomy catharsis. (Honor is also the fifth Neurosis album in a row recorded by Steve Albini, whose stripped-down aesthetic helps bring a sense of intimacy to the band's inherent grandeur.) At the same time, this latest effort is a highlight of the recent Neurosis discography. Despite brilliant moments on each, the previous three LPs at times seemed epic in length only; they didn't fully reward the endurance required to sit through them. The band remedies that on Honor. Like every Neurosis full-length of the past two decades, it's packed with long songs-- three out of seven clock in over 10 minutes-- but there's less slack here than before; for the most part, these are purposeful journeys.
It's telling that Honor's two strongest tracks, opener "We All Rage in Gold" and closer "Raise the Dawn", are also the shortest. These pieces sum up how the record conveys an expansive feel while minimizing fuss. More importantly, they straight-up rock. After a quick mood-setting intro, "We All Rage in Gold" kicks into a badass midtempo groove-- the closest Neurosis has come to boogie-- with Kelly growling ruefully on top. The dynamics drop, but only briefly; soon, the full band roars back for one of its trademark sludgy climaxes, elevated by synth player Noah Landis's soaring violin simulations. "Raise the Dawn" is similarly gripping. A straightforward quiet-to-loud transition sets up Honor's single most righteous moment: a swaggery sludge-blues refrain, over which Kelly sneers, "All the rest have fallen on/ Returning the sun." This shrewd curveball ends the record on a triumphant note.
Honor's longer tracks are hit-and-miss. "At the Well"-- like "Raise the Dawn", a staple of the band's live sets since late 2010-- is a textbook Neurosis epic, formulaic but effective. The track stretches out from Von Till's dark-troubadour opening into elegiac doom, growing gradually more intense. When the drums drop out six minutes in, it's a dead giveaway for the torrential burst that follows; still, the shift is a stunner. Like seasoned horror directors, Neurosis know how to shake you up while abiding by convention. In contrast, "Casting of the Ages" lacks a narrative arc. Like the Neurosis equivalent of a power ballad, the track follows a straightforward whisper-then-roar format, simply trudging on until it ends. A song like this makes it easy to miss the more feral sound of Enemy of the Sun and 1992's Souls at Zero, records that privileged phantasmagoric sensory overload over tidy compositional logic.
Thankfully, the next track, "All Is Found...In Time", reestablishes tension. Here, the band sets aside brooding in favor of geeky psychedelic intrigue. Drummer Jason Roeder's tom-tom-heavy pummel leads the group through a cosmic-prog overture, which segues into a bluesy half-time heave; then Landis' Pink Floyd-style synths point the way to a kitschy yet ominous interlude. When the intro returns with a jolt, the ground seems to rush away, as though a shuttle simulator had malfunctioned, blasting the listener into deep space.
Moments like these help make Honor Found in Decay feel like a fresh start, even though the band's core palette hasn't changed. The record doesn't abandon the moody sprawl of the band's last few full-lengths, but it does help restore urgency to an aesthetic that seemed in danger of growing soporific. It's become common to refer to Neurosis as post-metal, as if the band had outgrown the primal allure of the riff. Honor refutes that idea. It's a record that proves these grizzled artisans still know how to flex their muscles.
