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It is well-known, even to those with a less than superficial knowledge of modern metal, that Opeth is one of the most celebrated bands in the field; a reputation well deserved, given the qualitative and artistic consistency that the ensemble of the legendary Michael Åkerfeldt has managed to guarantee over the years. From the brilliant beginnings with Orchid and Morningrise, through the seventies experiments of the following albums, the band has crafted one masterpiece after another, placing themselves at the top of death metal and, I dare say, of metal as a whole, consecrating its leader to the status of an untouchable music guru (at least as far as "extreme" music played with taste and intelligence is concerned).
This Ghost Reveries, the band's eighth album, was eagerly anticipated by all the enthusiasts and, in particular, by a significant portion of the specialized press, which after the half misstep of deliverance, was waiting for the perfect opportunity to ruthlessly crush a new Swedish discography flop. But, sorry to disappoint these malevolent critics, the much-desired flop did not occur. On the contrary, and I say this without fear of contradiction, right from the shifting opener "Ghost of Perdition", Opeth's new emanation stands as one of their absolute best releases, and perhaps as THE album of the year 2005 - a golden, or rather steel, year for metal lovers.
Right from the first 10 minutes of the aforementioned "Ghost of Perdition", one is pleasantly surprised by a compositional heterogeneity and creativity unmatched in the band's history.
It begins with an icy and spectral arpeggio, immediately violated by nervous electric guitar strikes, in pure Still Life style. But Opeth are incapable of resting for too long on the same solutions, and thus follow rhythmic cadences with a very tool-like flavor, alternating with an overwhelming Gothic gallop. And this is where the first timid keyboards peek through, cloaking everything in impalpable decadence. Indeed, because, a brand-new feature of this album, Opeth has permanently inserted a keyboardist into the lineup, the excellent Per Viberg from Spiritual Beggars, who brings an additional seventies flavor to each song. His subtle atmospheric weavings, diaphanous and rarefied, embellish the highlights without ever succumbing to futile virtuosity or cloying intrusion.
At this point, as it may have become evident, doing a sterile track-by-track for such a varied and multiform album would be exceedingly difficult; however, I cannot help but mention, just to whet your tympanic palate, the enveloping tribal percussiveness of the beautiful "Atonement", an oriental-flavored ballad with a mystical taste; the unprecedented and dizzying time signature changes of "The Baying of the Hounds" and "Beneath the Mire"; the alluring acoustic introspections of "Hours of Wealth" and "Isolation Years", the latter with a quasi post-rock progression; or the shadowy and catatonic electronics of "The Grand Conjuration", which sporadically brings to mind the Massive Attack of the legendary Mezzanine.
In short, an album that might make the purists of the most orthodox metal frown, but that would also, and above all, enrich those who have never appreciated anything about metal and are convinced that the genre is just crudity, farts, alcohol, burps, screaming yells, and boar-like grunts. Make it yours, whatever your musical background may be. You will not regret it.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
01 Ghost of Perdition (10:29)
Ghost of Mother
Lingering death
Ghost on Mother's bed
Black strands on the pillow
Contour of her health
Twisted face upon the head
Ghost of perdition
Stuck in her chest
A warning no one read
Tragic friendship
Called inside the fog
Pouring venom brew deceiving
Devil cracked the earthly shell
Foretold she was the one
Blew hope into the room and said:
"You have to live before you die young"
Holding her down
Channeling darkness
Hemlock for the Gods
Fading resistance
Draining the weakness
Penetrating inner light
Road into the dark unaware
Winding ever higher
Darkness by her side
Spoke and passed her by
Dedicated hunter
Waits to pull us under
Rose up to its call
In his arms she'd fall
Mother light received
And a faithful servant's free
In time the hissing of her sanity
Faded out her voice and soiled her name
And like marked pages in a diary
Everthing seemed clean that is unstained
The incoherent talk of ordinary days
Why would we really need to live?
Decide what is clear and what's within a haze
What you should take and what to give
Ghost of perdition
A saint's premonition's unclear
Keeper of holy hordes
Keeper of holy whores
To see a beloved son
In despair of what's to come
If one cut the source of the flow
And everything would change
Would conviction fall
In the shadow of the righteous
The phantasm of your mind
Might be calling you to go
Defying the forgotten mortals
Where the victim is the prey
02 The Baying of the Hounds (10:41)
I hear the baying of the hounds
In the distance. I hear them devouring
Pest-ridden jackals of the earth
Diabolical beasts and roaming the forests
In wait and constant protectors
Calling you to sit by his side
Your self-loathing image in his flesh
A revelation upon which you linger
His words are flies
Swarming towards the true insects
Feasting on buried dreams
And spreading decay upon your skin
His eyes spew forth a darkness
That cut through and paralyze
Casts light upon your secrets
Forced to confront your enemies
His mouth is a vortex
Sucking you into it's pandemonium
Fools you with a helping hand of ashes
Reached out in false dismay
His body is a country
The cities lay dead beyond despair
Friends turned enemies unable to come clean
In a rising fog of reeking death
Everything you believed is a lie
Everyone you loved is a death-burden
So you take comfort in him
And you are receptive to stark wishes
No longer struggling to declare your stand
You would inflict no harm to others
They are unaware and in a loop of futile events
You are everything, they are nothing
Drown in the deep mire
With past desires
Beneath the mire
Drown desire now with you
Lined up verses on dead skin
The tainted lips of a stranger
Resting upon hers
And I embrace bereavement
Everything beloved is shattered anyway
I would devote myself to anyone
I would accept any flaws
I am too weak to resist
Tension vibrating with horror
Finding the outcast in my eyes
Pushing nerves on a puppet
Endless poison in my veins
Clean intent now tainted with death
And so, cold touch now inhumane
Every waking hour
Awaiting a reverie to unfold
Louder by the minute
The baying of the hounds
Calling me back to my home
03 Beneath the Mire (07:57)
Haunted nights for halcyon days
Can't sleep to the scraping of his voice
Nature's way struck grief in me
And I became a ghost in sickness
Willingly guided into heresy
Beneath the surface, stark emptiness
And you'd pity my conviction
Whereas I thought of myself as a leader
You'd cling to your pleasant hope
It is twisted fascination
While I'd ruin the obstacles into despair
And I'm praising death
Lost love of the heart
In a holocaust scene memory
Decrepit body wearing transparent skin
Inside, the smoke of failure
Wept for solace and submit to faith
In his shadow I'm choking
Yet flourishing
Master
A delusion made me stronger
Yet I'm draped in pale withering flesh
I sacrificed more than I had
And left my woes beneath the mire
04 Atonement (06:28)
Clear the fog that was veiled around me
And blurred my sights
Suddenly, I'm no longer aching
To honor my plights
Rising moon and my skin is peeling
Past undone
Suddenly, I can't justify
What I had become
06 Hours of Wealth (05:20)
Found a way
To rid myself clean of pain
And a fever that's
Been haunting me
Has gone away
Looking through my window
I seem to recognise
All the people passing by
But I'm alone
And far from home
Nobody knows me
Never heard me say goodbye
Never shall I speak to anyone again
All days are in darkness
And abiding my time
Once I am sure of my task I will rise
Again...
07 The Grand Conjuration (10:21)
Majesty
Faithful me
Pour yourself
Into me
Wield your power
Martyr's price
Stare me down
To the ground
The eyes of the devil
Fixed on his sinners
Slake my thirst
Eternal wealth
Heathen key
Round my neck
This poetry
Our blasphemy
Know the sounds
Of infamy
The hands of Satan
Assembling his flock
Pale horse rider
Searching the earth
Whispered conjuration
A belief takes form
Choking hand tapping
The veins in your throat
His orders in your mouth
A decree for domination
Beneath the tides of wisdom
Spins the undertow of hate
Injected seeds of vengeance
Usurper's eyes of the powerless
Clean path to his kingdom
Beckoning in the mist
The grand conjuration
Tell me why
Love subsides
In the light
Of your wish
Say my name
Ease the pain
Clear the smoke
In my head
08 Isolation Years (03:51)
There's a sense of longing in me
As I read Rosemary's letter
Her writing is honest
Can't forget the years she's lost
In isolation
She talks about her love
And as I read
"Die alone"
I know she's aching
There's a certain detail seen here
The pen must have slipped to the side
And left a stain
Next to his name
She knows he's gone
And isolation
Is all that would remain
"The wound in me is pouring out
To rest on a lover's shore"
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Other reviews
By Moro1
Opeth have finished climbing the peak and are now on a slight downward slope.
The album starts off terribly, rises significantly in the middle, then falls again at the end to leave a closing hope.
By malamela
The tributes Opeth made on this CD to Tool and early Dream Theater works is too much, and not justified.
To define it in a few words: Predictable, already heard, nothing new.
By dying_sun
Paradoxically, after only two songs, your skin already starts to quiver: you look around, search for glances that aren’t there, hear footsteps among the gray shadows.
It is undoubtedly heterogeneous yet profoundly logical, it’s a haunted cell after an hour of freedom, a spectral moon after a sunny day.
By fjelltronen
The sparkling melancholy burns in the sounds of guitars with dark distortions, the caresses of keyboards in the darkness of November nights.
The singer is alone, cries with piercing rage but simultaneously delights with notes of never forgotten purity.
