Carpathian Forest
Strange Old Brew

Perhaps Carpathian Forest gave their best with their early recordings, when they were still a cult band, unknown to most, far from the media spotlight, purveyors of an ancient black metal that transcended the revolution of various Mayhem and Darkthrone.
Perhaps the best is found in the rawness of the first demos, in the dirty and misanthropic sounds of EPs like "Bloodlust and Perversion" (from 1992) and "Through Chasm, Caves and Titan Woods" (from 1995).
Perhaps, the best is found only in tracks like "Journey Through the Cold Moors of Svarttjern," so far from the prevailing stylistic canons of the time, yet so eloquently imbued with the most authentic black metal spirit. 

"Black Shining Leather", from 1998, is perhaps the formal masterpiece, but certain atmospheres, alas, are already irretrievably lost: from then on, the band's artistic journey would reveal a downward trajectory, culminating in the latest uninspiring works and finally consecrated in the mire by Nattefrost's deplorable solo effort (aptly titled "Blood and Vomit").

It is clear that Carpathian Forest made sense as long as the two souls of the band coexisted, indispensable to each other in their complementarity: the instinctive one of Nattefrost and the meditative one of Nordavind, to which, in my opinion, the most successful insights of the Norwegian formation are owed. Since the departure of the latter, and with the consequent dominance of that idiot Nattefrost's beer-driven instinct, Carpathian Forest's music would degenerate into the simplistic reiteration of a formula that would over time lose its freshness and appeal.

Before the final collapse, however, we can dust off the twin albums "Strange Old Brew" and "Morbid Fascination of Death," from 2000 and 2001 respectively, which deliver Carpathian Forest still in good health: closer to the punk of Motorhead, the primordial black of Venom and Bathory, the thrash metal of Sodom and Destruction, in these two works our heroes have the opportunity to consolidate and refine what we can define as a perverted black'n'roll, essentially raw and violent, but slashed by flashes of insane melancholy capable of catapulting us into the bloody abysses of the most metaphysical black metal.

"Strange Old Brew" captures Carpathian Forest in their most compact and cohesive version, strengthened by a newly revolutionized lineup: Nattefrost (vocals and guitar) and Nordavind (guitar, keyboards and vocals), the band's puppet masters, decide not to rely on the impromptu flair of session musicians, as had happened in the past, but to recruit motivated manpower with a decent technical and experiential background behind them: thus Tchort (already seen on Emperor's side during the masterpiece "In the Nightside Eclipse", now an expert Lemmy with his vitriolic bass) and Kobro (former drummer of In the Woods) become part of the ensemble, unleashing all that power and ferocity that "In the Woods" probably didn't allow him to express. Thanks to his precise and vigorous drumming, Carpathian Forest's "Misanthropic Black Metal" can finally move up a gear.

The tracks, written between '93 and '97, are divided between shards of dirty thrash and dark interludes capable of bringing out the more negative, and in a sense "depressive", side of the formidable Norwegian entity. A dimension in which, in my opinion, the most inspired and original Carpathian Forest emerge, certainly less beholden to the old glories of the eighties.

The opening triptych shows us the most violent face of Carpathian Forest: "Blood Cleansing", "Mask of the Slave", "Martyr Sacrificulum" are blasts that, while not playing the supersonic speed card, cannot fail to engage with essential riffs, deadly tempo changes, and a punk immediacy that will reach its peak in the bonus track "He's Turning Blue".
"Thanatology" and "Cloak of Midnight", under Nordavind's direction, showcase the Norwegian band's most "metaphysical" and unsettling side: real abysses to sink into, bogged down in icy keyboards, funereal tempos, menacing screamings, and harrowing guitar lines that hark back to the most existentialist Count.

A real twist is the nightclub saxophone in "House of the Whipchord", a dark Lynchian interlude, where Nattefrost's croaking voice is accompanied by a gloomy piano and the distant beats of dismal electronics. Purists need not fear, no concessions to commerciality: even without guitars, this track is a candidate for the most gruesome piece of the album. An album that in more than one instance will not eschew solutions foreign to the metal universe (consider the martial industrial of the intro "Damnation Chant").

The whole album, in fact, plays on the alternation between violence and atmosphere, placing itself at the heart of a fragile balance that, at the sign of variety and the right alternation of suggestions, makes for an undoubtedly easily accessible listening experience. More than on a strictly musical level, Carpathian Forest's extreme character lies in the climate of perversion and morbidity that has always animated their works, and which in this album is amplified by hallucinatory sadomasochistic tones that will gradually take on greater prominence in the works to follow.

To say goodbye, just to reiterate our heroes' finesse of taste, the unsettling gurgling of an enema ("The Good Old Enema Treatment").

For those who think that black metal is not just an incessant guitar buzz and distant cymbal rustle.