Cobalt
Gin

It is enlightening that in a traditionally conservative genre like Black Metal, a total, aesthetic, and inner renewal can emerge. We are not in the realm of Mayhem or Darkthrone, but rather in that American avant-garde led by bands like Nachtmystium or Altar Of Plagues. Little remains of Black Metal now, perhaps the skeleton of some track, rendered unrecognizable time and again by waterfalls of post-core, noise, industrial, psychedelia, and ambient.

If creativity hinges on renewal, renewal cannot overlook Neurosis, an inexhaustible source of inspiration for every follower of extreme music in the new millennium. And it is precisely from the historic Oakland group that the duo Cobalt draws its lifeblood with full hands, not neglecting the lethal influences of Tool and even the modern Mastodon.

Third album of the group dated 2009, “Gin” further emphasizes the alien contaminations (for the genre) and translates Black Metal into something else, something intensely personal. Illuminated among the illuminated, Cobalt stands out for an unusually sophisticated iconography (the Hemingway icon on the cover, the Jarboe icon among the guests) and for an indisputable talent in their visceral art, which dives into the stomach and corrodes from within. The impetus of certain moments, and partly the singer's screaming, are those of Black Metal, but the structures of the pieces recall the intricate progressions of Tool imprisoned in the icy cages of post-hardcore.

There is a vivid emotional tension that stirs in the background without ever loosening its grip, which emerges forcefully precisely in the slower tracks. This is exemplified by "Dry Body": a Minsk-like meditation that digs wells of black psychedelia, while in the midst of "Pregnant Insect" it seems like listening to Swans in the throes of one of their transcendental ecstasies. Fury makes its way through the grindcore abstractions of "Arsonry", "Stomach", and "Two-Thumbed Fist", yet invariably ends up spilling into the obsessive tribalisms of imminent catastrophe (impossible not to think of Tool during their best period, those of Ænima). In the uninterrupted flow of post-hardcore convulsions, there is room for disorienting jolts (“A Clean Well-lighted Place”), distorted projections of the ambient universe (“Throat”), hyper-realistic hallucinations (“A Starved Horror”), and relaxing mercury baths (“Gin”).

The lyrics themselves, instead of following the tropes of Black Metal, are driven by harsh manifestations of anthropological pessimism: “Let’s burn down together, Let’s burn down our houses together, Let’s burn down forever, Let’s burn down our children together” proclaims Phil McSorley in “Arsonry”, a cathedral of memories set ablaze. Extremely rational and introspective, the music of Cobalt is made up of progressions in continuous metamorphosis that collapse into desolate inner abysses. There will be no light in these compositions, but there is indeed a wealth of inspiration.