Wolves In The Throne Room

Diadem Of 12 Stars (Vendlus, 2006) contains three lengthy pieces. The first sound that comes out of Queen Of The Borrowed Light is a thick carpet of guitar distortion. The guttural vocals basically melt with the noise, while the blastbeats provide the only contrast. A sudden acoustic intermezzo introduces a theatrical section with melodic riffs and slow solemn singing. The 20-minute Diadem Of 12 Stars (after a few minutes of Indian-tinged instrumental hesitation) basically restarts from there, from a theatrical atmosphere and desperate hoarse recitation (backed by sweet female vocals) before imploding into the prog-rock pyrotechnics and tempo shifts that turn it into a cathartic experience. The ending is dominated by the female singer and her fairy-queen lullaby. It is not surprising therefore that the female singer intones the hymn of the two-part Face In A Night Time Mirror. After a brief acoustic break that is reminiscent of renaissance music, the usual hellish mayhem takes over, with guitar, drums and male vocals unleashing their worst impulses. The piece eventually stabilizes in a uniform wall of sound, a monolithic nightmare that ends with the singer shouting out of his head. The second part increases the level of fury, bordering on slam dancing. The vocals now attack the wall of noise with hopeless determination, their register mirroring the changes in guitar sound. The music stops for a second and then resigns itself to agonizing guitar riffs over ritual drumming until the final chaotic apotheosis.

Two Hunters (Southern Lord, 2007), with help from vocalist Jessika Kenney, further abandoned the stereotypes of black metal (e.g. the blastbeats) and also included occasional sound effects. Vastness And Sorrow erupts with all the magniloquence that the trio is capable of, but it does little more than reiterate angst for twelve minutes. Digital hisses, convent-like female vocals and pow-wow drums wrap Cleansing into funereal ambience before it blooms into the usual wall of sound. The overall emotional power is far lower than on the first album, a direct consequence of structures that are more linear. The notable exception is the 18-minute I Will Lay Down My Bones Among The Rocks And Roots, the place where, instead, torrential drumming and apocalyptic distortion meet. The vocals enter the stage when a bit of calm is restored, and all they do is basically emit beastly sounds. Eventually the music soars thanks to a majestic guitar melody sustained by regular drumbeats, and then the singer begins chanting his morbid psalm.

The mini-album Malevolent Grain (Southern Lord, 2009) inaugurated a revised line-up (with guitarist Will Lindsay) and a relatively cleaner guitar sound. A female singer intones the desolate and solemn psalm of A Looming Resonance. Both the guitars and the drums stick to a more linear and geometric structure even when they erupt in the final apotheosis. The hoarse vocals return in Hate Crystal, pitted against a superhuman frenzy of guitar strumming and drumming. The relentless flow of noise eventually subsides but still leaves behind a cohesive mass of drums and guitar that eventually implodes into digital effects. This is possibly their most carefully designed piece yet. The prog-influenced brainier aspects of their art are less prominent here.

The full-length Black Cascade (Southern Lord, 2009) offers four more lengthy excursions into their intimate hell. While there was little new in musical terms, there surfaced a general sense of melancholy adulthood. The masterful but predictable tension of Wanderer Above The Sea Of Fog now exudes existential agony. A bit more movement in the guitar lines give Ex Cathedra a rocking quality, However, both these pieces sound like routine. While it too repeats stereotypes, the senseless gallop of Ahrimanic Trance is more successful at mutating into a dramatic atmosphere and eventually collapsing into dub-tinged hypnosis. Another peak of pathos comes with Crystal Ammunition, both because of the slow-tempo majestic melody and because of the artfully engineered mood contrasts that lead to the funereal ending.

Like everybody else, Wolves in the Throne Room was moving away from the stereotypes of black metal. Celestial Lineage (Southern Lord, 2011) contains the twelve-minute lithurgical Thuja Magus Imperium, that opens with suspenseful strings, wind chimes and female crooning before launching into apocalyptic drumming and riffing, the ten-minute werewolf chant at impossible speed of Astral Blood (with an intermezzo of solo harp), and the eleven-minute concerto Prayer of Transformation for oceanic guitar distortions, supernatural organ drones, desperate agonizing vocals and slow martial drumbeats. The wolves run the gamut from the tragic and fatalistic black-metal frenzy of Subterranean Initiation to the angelic Jessika Kenney-penned doom convent hymn of Woodland Cathedral.

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