Cult Of Luna
Vertikal

The 2013 starts well (from a discographical point of view, I mean; otherwise, I'd say no): within just two months (the hardest of the year, discographically speaking), the new twenty-thirteen has already witnessed several interesting releases, among which this latest work by Cult of Luna certainly stands out, a brand that is now synonymous with quality. The Swedish band needs no introduction, and "Vertikal" is without a shadow of a doubt the confirmation (yet another one) of the worth of an ensemble that can boast the status of a leading force in the post-hardcore realm. A hundred lengths below Neurosis, a couple below Isis, now that the former are, for physiological reasons of age, descending the slope of their unique artistic parabola, while the latter have ceased to exist for several years, Cult of Luna, we can now say, are the ones who do it better, and it's no coincidence that when you have to think of what post-hardcore is, the name of this band will be among the first three (or let's say four) that will pop on the tip of your tongue.

It wasn't enough for them to bring forth what will remain in the annals as an undisputed classic of the genre ("The Beyond," from 2003): their career strings together another masterpiece (at least the fourth), the fruit of both mind and heart, but also the deserved product of established professionalism and refined stylistic research. The Umea group (seven musicians involved) crafts what is, as of today in 2013, probably "the best possible metal," as has happened in the past with Opeth, then with fellow Isis and later with Agalloch, in years when achieving the role of protagonists costs the proverbial seven shirts.

Why is "Vertikal" beautiful: because it is not the "usual" frayed, Southern post-hardcore (the Southern influences explored in previous works have been nulled, and rightly so, I would add, as the desert doesn't quite fit with Sweden) and dragged out. Here there's all the class, the dedication to the cause, and the commitment of those who have made the history of the genre and decide to move forward, grow as musicians, and continue to build (not destroy), constructing the usual scenarios through the complexity of making music, and not merely leveraging attitude, anger, blaring distortions, and extended psychological rhetoric. And if they weren't the first, they are certainly the best today. "Vertikal" is thus also post-rock, post-metal, and everything you want to put after the word post. Long compositions, progressive attitude, instrumental compactness, stylistic composure, a modern/futuristic guise tinged with essential and never overwhelming electronics, a desire to please, of course, but also the humility of wanting to sound pragmatic, concrete, in a word metal, if by metal (but today these are the classics) we can mention bands like Katatonia and Meshuggah: the invincible decay of the poignant melodic layers of the former, the suffocating claustrophobia of the arithmetic architectures of the latter.

This is also "Vertikal," inspired not only by the lyrics to Fritz Lang's film masterpiece "Metropolis," but especially by the atmospheres. Cold, aseptic, disturbing sounds that project into the mind the grandeur of the futuristic skyscrapers depicted with an expressionist hand by the German director, imposing silhouettes, threatening shadows, futuristic landscapes that fit perfectly with the environmentalist crusade carried out over the years by Cult of Luna: the irreconcilable contrast between Man and Nature, the destruction/alienation/loneliness that "progress" brings with it when it becomes an unthinking dogma. Threatening silhouettes, imposing shadows, a "verticality" that we find in the daring geometries of these monuments of discomfort and alienation, cementing the beating heart, buried behind a thick crust of ice, at the core of the Scandinavian combo's music. Starting with the robotic drumming (but extremely dynamic, nervous, restless) of new addition Magnus Lindberg (excellent), passing through the rumination of the three guitars, sharp, bleak in the electro-acoustic phrasings and lethal in the inevitable detonations (sound blends where instruments do not mix, melodic lines are not lost, the epic taste of the distorted bass strokes, the longing of the synthesizers are not lost), ending with Klas Lydberg's muffled scream, a true cry of despair from humanity crushed by technology.

Perfection may be the only flaw of this potent sonic behemoth: everything sounds perfect, too much, the sounds, the arrangements, the balance with which elements mix, their disposition, to the point that it becomes suspect that behind this meticulous staging lies self-indulgence, craft, and a poorly concealed desire to please, to delight. But do you want to know something? I don't give a damn about pandering: maybe they're not the most extreme, probably not the most emotionally lacerating, certainly not among the greatest innovators, but Cult of Luna with "Vertikal" manages to deliver a work that knows how to entertain and amaze far beyond the expectable from a band devoted to such a niche genre.

The difference with the rest of the world is demonstrated by Cult of Luna in two episodes: "Vicarious Redemption" and "In Awe of." The first is a nineteen-minute colossus, but, mind you, here we don't rejoice for mere minute count: here we bow before the craftsmanship and maturity with which such a monument is first conceived and then realized. The modest beginning (which inevitably recalls the more ambient Neurosis – no surprises there) is only the prelude to a predictable emotional rise and fall made of arpeggios first and massive riffs later, soon merging into the majestic movements of a ponderous doom, a decisive component even today in the sound economy of our musicians. But when you least expect it, almost a techno break interrupts the flow, changes the pace, opens up the last part of the track, which unexpectedly boasts solos that daringly marry the gothic to post-metal before everything collapses again into a decelerating electro-acoustic pandemonium. Once there was "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," today there is "Vicarious Redemption," already a classic of our times.

The second, on the other hand, in its "only" ten minutes, reaches the emotional peak of the album: an engaging suite with shamelessly post-rock flavors, certainly not a novelty at Cult of Luna's house, but driven by an unprecedented guitar verve in a soloist key that in its incredible dynamism (phenomenal once again is the support behind the skins by Lindberg, the backbone of the 2013 sound of the Swedes) even makes the masters pale, surpassing the very clichés of the genre.

Not that the rest is any less: the opener "I: The Weapon" (preceded by the two chilling minutes of synth in the introduction "The One") shows us the more frontal Cult of Luna, splendidly suspended between rocky hardcore assaults (very math-rock with the abuse of off-beats and riffs cut to the millimeter) and melodic escapes that open unforeseen passages in a sound flow where the synergy between the components becomes the real added value of the whole. In "Synchronicity," on the other hand, the more cerebral and alienating Cult of Luna speak to us (perhaps the most self-referential episode, in its cerebral artificiality, but indispensable for the concept's exposition). In the sinister "Mute Departure," our musicians return to being reflective, impotent witnesses of decay, so at ease that they include in their sound a clean voice and minimal keyboards with a seductive dark rhythm (many, throughout the album's duration, are the suggestions borrowed from the eighties dark-wave universe), before the inevitable neurotic explosion of the finale. The cherry on top: the pseudo-ballad "Passing Through," an experiment already tested since the time of "Along the Highway," only five minutes (the shortest track, excluding obviously the introduction and the other two ambient interludes "The Sweep" and "Disharmonia") in which Cult of Luna's sonic clangor dissolves into the sepulchral din of rancid arpeggios and the hypnotic chants of a hoarse and deep voice, finally human, whose echo is called to slowly fade into the silence of a scene that leaves very little to hope for.

More a point of arrival than a place from which new roads can be developed, "Vertikal" not only certifies the compositional (and executive) grace of a band that in its nearly fifteen-year career shows no signs of weakening, but it is nominated to be one of the most representative albums of "metal" of the 2010s, capable of capturing and condensing, in a formal perfection hardly repeatable, the most interesting trends of the present and recent past.