Krallice
Diotima

Two aliens in New York City…

The Krallice project was born in 2008 from the twisted minds of Mick Barr (Orthrelm) and Colin Marston (Behold…the Arctopus, Infidel?Castro!, Gorguts). With their self-titled debut (released by the forward-thinking Profound Lore – always blessed be), the two guitarists managed to carve out a credible path among the branches and miasmas of today's post-extreme metal with a black metal literally headache-inducing: a formula that sees the two guitars chase, intertwine, clash, and catch up in a triumph of dissonances and sudden tempo changes, all launched rigorously and scientifically at the speed of light.

With solid credentials, then, and an extraordinarily high technical level, a synergy that borders on the conjoined and an idea that could fuel an entire career, Barr and Marston (accompanied by bassist Nick McMaster and drummer Lev Wenstein) bring a clear artistic vision and an offering that over time, once the surprise element is burned away, will prove to be too coherent, potentially boring the most demanding and novelty-craving palates, yet not at all disappointing in terms of professionalism and dedication to the cause. Today I'm talking to you about "Diotima," the third album by Krallice released in 2011, a work that, while it doesn't carry the overwhelming strength of their explosive debut, is able to reach a decent point of balance within the creative path of the New York quartet.

"Diotima" doesn't present major stylistic upheavals compared to what was arranged in the previous two volumes, except for shifting the vocal approach towards more properly death (metal) areas. Barr's voice thus distances itself from the high tones of an agonizing scream (which will only be used in a couple of instances) to predominantly settle in the realms of a deep growl, which incidentally blends perfectly with the furious rhythms and the orchestrated sonic apocalypse. Despite this, and some well-placed/necessary slowdowns scattered along the almost seventy minutes of the platter's duration (ugh), the strengths and weaknesses of Krallice remain the same as always: for many, their music will continue to be something prohibitively challenging; some will keep finding the long compositions penned by these nerds of black metal to be prolix, excessively cerebral, in a word, cold; others, the more daring and open-minded (but perhaps devoid of sense), will love to immerse themselves in the twisted coils of this suffocating sonic labyrinth, getting lost within, chasing the multitude of ideas in search of ever-new emotions. Personally speaking, I think I've experienced all three sensations, ultimately finding a more or less stable place straddling the second and third categories (leaning more towards the third, truth be told), as I believe that, after numerous listens, quantity eventually becomes quality: from a certain point on, in fact, that endless chain of passages ceases to be something horrifically senseless, and forms and structures and a meaningful discourse will start to emerge from the chaos. 

Krallice are so wicked that they don't spare us even in the two minutes of the untitled introductory track, which could have been something more slick and seductive, but no: the material this appetizer is composed of is the same, in miniature, as that which will make up the six lengthy tracks to follow, four of which comfortably exceed ten minutes (double ugh!).   

In "Inhume," just under seven minutes, the schizoid and ever-changing rifforama, supported by the tight rhythms, recall the majesty of early Emperor as much as the deconstructive secretions of late Emperor; in its second part, the various stop&go and the buzzing guitars and martial drumming hark back to the immortal lessons of Morbid Angel, with a result, amid dissonances and lightning tempo changes, not far removed – if one wishes to use less outdated categories – from the work of the French masters Deathspell Omega, but in such an extremist light as to bring in neighbors Liturgy (who are from Brooklyn), who released their acclaimed "Aesthethica" in the same year as this "Diotima."

The third track, "The Clearing," stands out immediately after the inevitable smoketone intro for an evocative slowdown where the inspired screaming shines in one of its few appearances. The moment is decidedly rich in pathos, and certainly credit is due to McMaster's formidable bass (probably a six-string, given the depth of the lower notes), paradoxically very present despite the frenzied race of the guitars. The track presents another peculiarity: almost at its end, it unveils, without fanfare, the only guitar solo of the album.  

The title track, which dares to linger at medium tempos for several minutes (only to explode and collapse again into incredible, unapproachable guitar interweavings) serves as the turning point, unlocking the album's more engaging phase. "Litany of Regrets" (the fifth and longest track) is a tour de force in the true sense of the term: it unfolds over nearly fourteen minutes without ever easing up, reminiscent of the most exhausting Varg Vikernes (from tracks like "Hvis Lyset Tar Oss" – the song). The structure somehow miraculously holds together, largely thanks to the tricks and effects applied to the guitars. How Wenstein can sustain a physical performance of this type remains a mystery. And it will be a real relief when the melodic attack of the following "Telluric Rings" (another twelve minutes and conceptually linked to the previous, as if it were a single twenty-five-minute track – help!) arrives, with an intro somewhat Ulver-like, somewhat Alcestian, perhaps the album's only truly "post" moment, soon devoured by the destructive fury of the rhythms and the epicity of melodies that at times reach an intensity worthy of the genre's masters.    

The beginning of the gem "Dust and Light" (seventh and last track) is once again entrusted to the flickering poetics of riffs that embody a delightfully shoegaze attitude, but it will only be the mirage of a moment, as we're talking about the most traditionally black-metal track of the bunch, also due to Barr's desperate screaming (strings stretched to the brink) taking center stage throughout the track: ten minutes of raw nerves and Scandinavian cold (piercing screams lost in the hum of guitars and the clatter of cymbals, where speed and stunning violence finally dematerialize all that pragmatism and lucidity flaunted by these four nerds), the worthy conclusion (certainly the emotional peak) of a work that will surely delight the boldest enthusiasts of US Black Metal, though people like Agalloch and Wolves in the Throne Room, in their ability to project images into the mind and generate emotions under the skin, belong to another planet.