Opeth formed more than 15 years ago, but didn't manage to release an album until five years later, when Candlelight issued their debut, Orchid, in 1994. Gradually building an ever-loyal following, the Swedes flirted with semi-mainstream success around the time of the concurrently-recorded Deliverance, released in 2002, and Damnation, which came out a year later. The first found the band in heavy mode; the second was a set of deathless '70s rock. Blending those two strands excellently, the band's eighth album, 2005's Ghost Reveries*--* now reissued in a deluxe edition with bonus tracks, a surround sound mix, and a documentary-- sealed the deal. A carefully crafted set of melodic progressive death-tinged metal, the record made Opeth's past releases feel like tiny sketchbooks for the present.
Much of Opeth's success is due to their charismatic vocalist, guitarist, and songwriter Mikael Åkerfeldt, whose well-documented idolization of both David Coverdale and Morbid Angel icon Steve Tucker translates surprisingly well to his own music: He can do melody and/or suffocated growls; he's Deep Purple expressive and also raging death dude. In Beyond Ghost Reveries, the documentary included with this reissue, Åkerfeldt says that after years of honing and experimentation, he once feared he'd become a "pussy" who could no longer manage his "evil" growls. Naturally, he was thrilled to discover that, when needed, he could still conjure that exquisite blackness. And, in fact, even when shifting from folksy hymns to distorted mayhem, the overall feeling of the music remains dark with a few flickering streaks of light.
Instrumentally, in addition to the usual double-bassdrum action, Opeth blend prog, jazz, stoner haze, blues-rock, Indian raga, pastoral tips, and acid-tinged freakers. Newest, sage member Per Wiberg contributes textures, stuffing his sounds-- a Moog solo here, a Gregorian hum there-- into different corners using Mellotron, Hammond, and piano. All those keys sometimes create a slight distance, but then the guitars hit the same rhythm as a jazz organ and shape-shift on a dime: The band lulls, then explodes. Unlike a number of other tech wizards embraced by the metal community, Opeth make the most of their skills, playing complexly and expressively. The music is poppier and more sumptuously recorded than Katatonia or Agalloch, but maintains an edge, banging to Amon Düül II. At times you may even be reminded of Japanese psych folk-rockers, Ghost.
Opener "Ghost of Perdition" starts with gentle guitar, lasting all of four seconds, before Åkerfeldt begins his hemlock snarl. The next move, before the 1:30 minute mark, is a soulful fusion moment: "Devil cracked the earthly shell/ Foretold she was the one/ Blew hope into the room and said:/ 'You have to live before you die young.'" A creepy organ death-dances in the background, facing off a pastoral moment lined with angelic traditional folksy harmonies before an aching solo guitar steps aside for more of the brutal stuff. Ghost Reveries' lyrics never stray far from these makeshift death pyres. The landscape is feverish, filled with rotting trees ("roots sucking, thieving from my source"), fog, and darkness. Protagonists dodge the sun, fear dying alone, and carry their pale flesh through ashen alien lands.
A complaint could be made that Opeth pack songs-- particularly the opener or fabulously epic "Reverie/Harlequin Forest"-- with too many changes. (Dudes, are you trying to get a silver star from Musician magazine?) But each move feels like it's going somewhere, not simply treading water to showcase chops, and this ADD factor ups the emotional power: Half of Ghost Reveries' eight tracks clock in at over ten minutes, but the word "lag" never comes to mind.
Preaching to the converted? If you already own the original, you won't need this reissue unless you want the smooth cover of Deep Purple's "Soldier of Fortune". Other extras include an embossed cover, added artwork, and pep rally-style liner notes from Åkerfeldt. There's also a second disc with a 5.1 mix of the album and the "director's cut" video for "The Grand Conjuration", where a snake sucks a Tawny Kitaen-looking girl down a toilet and a hooded bully tortures an old guy and douses him with gasoline. And then there's the 30-something-minute documentary, with standard fare like live footage, interviews, studio shots, food sculptures, Opeth swimming in a pool, lap cats, reminiscences, "sex, drugs, and e-mail," lots of talk of the "rock-n-roll dream," and new tattoos.
At one point in the documentary Åkerfeldt says, revealingly, that what Opeth's doing is "more than metal." That depends, of course, on your definition of metal. People often stress the idea of "transcending genre" in relation to the band, but while forward-thinking and often quite singular, Opeth's still very much within the tradition. That Åkerfeldt thinks otherwise casts an interesting pattern on the past. It also makes me curious about his recently announced (unnamed) side project and Opeth's ninth studio album (reportedly due before the end of the year).
