Opeth
Pale Communion

Selling Opeth by the pound...

..or also: can I not take a stance on the latest Opeth album?

Well, I couldn't have chosen a more misleading title and subtitle to start reviewing one of the most controversial albums of the moment.

Misleading the title because quoting the celebrated masterpiece by Genesis, a milestone in progressive rock, seemed like a cute choice to introduce the theme, but it's not true at all that Opeth have sold out or softened their sound for filthy lucre: if we talk about selling out, it's because it's now clear that the band has radically lost its identity to meet the ambitions and progressive awakenings of the unpleasant Akerfeldt, the undisputed father-master of a formation that is now nothing more than a host of followers at his service, so much so that it would be more honest to embark on a solo career and permanently abandon that moniker that has distinguished itself with so much honor in the realm of extreme metal (I am indeed one of those who think that the strength of the old Opeth was being a true band and that something, alas, was lost with the departure of original member Peter Lindgren and drummer Martin Lopez, who had managed to integrate the myriad pieces that composed the mature Opeth sound with his fluid and dynamic style).

Misleading the subtitle because, in truth, I will take a stance on the album and I'll present it right away: “Pale Communion”, with some "ifs" and several "buts", is a very good album. There, I said it, and now I'll explain why.

As you probably know, this last much-postponed record of 2014 stubbornly and persistently confirms the intentions revealed with the previous “Heritage”, an album that frankly never made me crazy, and which today constitutes a turning point in the Swedes' career. The problem is not about the genre played: Opeth's fans are mature enough to understand that the central issue is not the abandonment of the metal guise, but that with the new direction the band ended up sacrificing, with too much lightness, a lot of what had been painstakingly built in the past (a progressive artistic maturity that had contemplated as its ultimate goal the expression/generation of emotions), and sacrifices it on the altar of a sterile revival, the offspring of a vision not yet perfectly in focus. However, the danger of mannerist drift is partly warded off with this “Pale Communion” which, after many listens, appears to be made of a substance quite different from its predecessor, although it constitutes its coherent evolution.

Mind you, the first listen is dominated by sensations of anger and frustration, given by the impression (perhaps even prejudiced) that the great Opeth have become irredeemably a predictable and personality-less entity, intent only on gratuitously flaunting technical execution and drawing ideas and solutions wholesale from the repertoire of the genre's masters. The first three minutes of the opening “Eternal Rains Will Come” confirm this fear: the impression is that Akerfeldt really chickened out and that, undecided on how to start the album (more than an album, a process!), he wanted to play it safe and ward off any possible criticism with an eclectic beginning that could please everyone, or at least, in the worst case, find a way out by shoving the listener's face with the high technical rate (as if there was a need for that). And so, due to the phobias of a stubborn artist, but not without uncertainties, we will have to endure a pretentious instrumental hyperbole based on heart-pounding countertimes and wild intertwining of guitar and Hammond (first handful of seconds), then the static calm of a haunting arpeggio (because, starting from the subject portrayed on the cover, Akerfeldt's vision would not want to renounce that dark component that remains the last hold on a death/doom past), a restart (more guitars and keyboards dueling in frenetic progression – whirling geometries reminiscent of the most restless Van der Graaf Generator), another pause (this time with piano and guitar languors) and finally the beginning of the actual song, ultimately a ballad that in its flow reminds of the beautiful “Windowpane” from bygone days. It's an organ fantasy that dictates the coordinates on which the piece develops (the whole thing greatly reminiscent of EL&P's “Tarkus”), a stage where Akerfeldt's poised voice stands out (at the third minute!), multiplied in increasingly refined polyphonic interweavings. Worth highlighting (positively) a nice liquid solo à la Hackett, and (negatively) the abrupt ending, yet another bad deal to grapple with since Opeth decided to write shorter compositions (although in this “Pale Communion” – eight tracks for a total of fifty-five minutes – the average length of the tracks has increased).

The subsequent “Cusp of Eternity” (chosen as the first single) reaffirms the formation's state of non-grace, developing as the usual rock exercise halfway between Led Zeppelin and Rainbow, something entirely lacking in bite and with a chorus that already makes knees weak on first listen. One issue with this album lies in the guitar delivery, less present (instead, enormous spaces are granted to Joakim Svalberg's keyboards), which do not scratch, do not attack, do not stand out with the evidence a high-class guitarist like Akerfeldt would deserve (and if we can understand the now unappealable decision to abandon growl, a technique that indeed penalizes, even physically, the growth path of a singer who intends to improve album by album, it becomes a mystery the reason for completely giving up a heavier approach in using the guitars, where even Porcupine Tree of mentor/friend Steven Wilson have been able to engage with energetic riffs, without altering the sound). However, this is the only flaw we can blame on the excellent work Wilson did behind the mixing desk: the sounds, in fact, are clear, and the work of the English musician/producer (also included in the official lineup, demonstrating how valuable his choices and suggestions were for the success of the product) enhances every single detail of a complex proposal rich in nuances such as the Swedes’.

So let's move on to the good news: behind the drums, a true miracle is worked, given that Martin Axenrot (whom the perfectionist Akerfeldt will have driven crazy like never before) demonstrates being able to exercise extraordinary control over his instrument, showing a touch, a precision, a sensitivity that aligns him, style-wise, to the elegance and gracefulness of a Phil Collins (an unthinkable milestone when considering the "heavy-footed" drummer he was when he joined the band). If the good soldier Martin Mendez continues to do his good work with honesty on the four strings, the performance of the second guitarist Fredrik Akesson is understandably more anonymous and less incisive, given he’s at the mercy of an Akerfeldt ready to sack him at any moment. And Akerfeldt?, who with the modesty that distinguishes him presents himself in the guise of the joker in the back-cover illustrations where band members are depicted on five playing cards? He has certainly improved as a singer, further extending his vocal range, meticulously crafting harmonies in frequent overdubs. But more importantly, he grows as an author, or rather, seems more comfortable, appearing more natural and relaxed in a context that is no longer metal.

Ultimately, stronger from a greater internal cohesion, and under Wilson's shrewd direction, Opeth sign an engaging chapter of neo-prog, along the lines of what the friend/mentor achieved as a solo artist. The ten minutes of “Moon Above, Sun Below”, for example, entertain and offer excellent moments, starting with the initial modernist settings (courteously swiped from Porcupine Tree – you know when Porcupines get more hypnotic, dub, nocturnal?), to the final verses that (finally!) recall Opeth of the most inspired times, a true liberating chant after unmentionable strategic shifts, among Dream Theater, Tool, and the usual others.
“Elysian Woes”, another crepuscular ballad, constitutes an additional moment of great allure, and when drums and mellotron kick in, and Akerfeldt sings over them, it really seems like going back to the glory of “Damnation”. If, however, the track seems to end too quickly, we can reassure ourselves by looking at the instrumental “Goblin” (a blatant tribute to our Goblin) as its indispensable tail (excellent work, in this instance, by the whole team, and in particular the now indispensable Axenrot keeping the timing). “River”, in its first half, we like less, as it gives us back an Akerfeldt blatantly courting the sunny California folk/rock (or maybe he simply wanted to write his own "Lucky Man"? The fact is that the result is a bit too pop for someone who claims to play a dark-progressive whose muses are, without much misunderstanding, King Crimson, Van der Graaf Generator and all those obscure, more or less unknown bands of the progressive underground of the seventies, Comus first and foremost); much better the second part, a wild prog party, with engaging peaks of hard rock, that sets things right and leads into the final stage of the album, which in my opinion is the most thrilling.

The eight minutes of “Voice of Treason”, probably the best (and most surprising) of the eight tracks, travels on the insistence of orchestrations looped and the metronomic rhythms of Axenrot’s syncopated drumming, here in one of his best performances in terms of precision and synthesis capabilities (in a track like this, as in the following one, a more invasive electronics intervention would not have been unwelcome), until the irresistible climax at the end, where the musicians remember being a collective and building something together. The important thing is, above all, that for at least once, reverence for the glories of the seventies was left in the cellar, and efforts were made, even at the cost of stealing an idea or two from the solo Wilson, towards a more personal and truly advanced front. The closing “Faith in Orders” is instead the tear-jerking ballad from which the fragile singer-songwriter Akerfeldt emerges, whose voice is by now a perfectly tuned instrument. A trip-hop flow, orchestra strings flaunted prominently, a stunning vocal performance (though slightly filtered), are the ingredients of a track in which Opeth do look at the Court of the Crimson King, but they do so without altering their identity and with a rightly more modern approach, keeping up with the times. Here's: if the band's future were to go this way, I'd say there are good reasons to hope for a bright future for Akerfeldt and company, whom I honestly had given up for lost after the disappointing “Heritage”.

The flame that animated irreplaceable masterpieces like “Still Life”, “Blackwater Park” and “Deliverance” might now be extinct, but Akerfeldt’s talent (if well advised and guided by the wise Wilson) is too great to remain stuck in the quicksands of citationism. “Pale Communion” teaches us that if Opeth intends to chart a personal path and find a renewed dimension of strong ensemble synergy, even within the new paradigm, they are capable of great things.