Shining
VII: Fodd Forlorare

The seventh chapter of the Shining saga, a band that has managed to achieve enviable longevity in the extreme-metal scene thanks to a constant evolution that, from the degrading depressive-black metal of its beginnings, has led the group towards increasingly thoughtful and formally refined works.

But this time the target is missed: for the first time, Shining does not impress, despite the beautiful metropolitan cover (which I dare say is "Pasolinian", a direct descendant of the industrial scenarios depicted on the previous chapter's cover) might have foreshadowed another step forward in what has hitherto been a smooth journey.

However, "Fodd Forlorare" does not mean "Accattone," but rather "Born Losers," highlighting the fact that there is absolutely nothing social in Shining's music, but only a (now weak) inclination to scrape the murky bottom of an almost emptied barrel, from which many bands like to draw inspiration to talk about the derelict condition of the "human machine".

The script, to be clear, is that of the third, fourth, and fifth chapters, which had constituted the phase of artistic maturity for Niklas Kvarforth, as well as the core from which the band's new course developed, increasingly interested in expanding its sound with progressive tones, in line with what fellow countrymen Opeth have done. And it is not heresy to see Shining today as a clumsy version of Opeth in black metal sauce, even if black metal can hardly be heard anymore in a Shining album.

Already, the first signs had been found in the not entirely convincing "Klagopsalmer," which nonetheless showed noteworthy solutions and explorations of new sounds, and this work from 2011 (delayed multiple times due to label issues) picks up these moves identically (even though Kvarforth himself says this latest album connects directly to "Hamstad," as "Klagopsalmer" had been a laborious task produced only to honor commitments with the old label), normalizing the path taken for years now towards a music that is certainly well-packaged, but lacks bite, unable to find a satisfying balance between the forcefully "depressive" message and concessions to catchiness that will surely make the hairs on the arms of longtime fans stand up (assuming they are still willing to follow the band's downward trajectory).

The opener "Fortvivlan, Min Arvedel" is not unpleasant, carrying with it the unmistakable brand of the band, but it seems to end prematurely in a fading out; "Tiden Laker Inga Sar" awakens from the lethargy with its central burst that takes us back to the glories of the past, but it is evident that something is off.

First: Kvarforth's clean singing, used excessively, is irritating and often ends up reminiscent, to put it bluntly, of the cheesy choruses of bands like Linkin Park. But even the growl parts are often ridiculous and awkward, and the use of the Swedish language certainly doesn't help. Not to mention the coughs, retches, and assorted noises that Kvarforth has loved to serve up for too many years now, but today they come across as more laughable than ever, considering the crystalline sounds and the meticulously crafted arrangements.

Second: the band that now accompanies Kvarforth is not impressive. We're talking about skilled and precise musicians in execution, but they sound cold and don't seem to have the sensitivity to integrate extra-metal solutions in Shining's evolutionary path, which instead regresses to a polished and appealing metal, heavily influenced by the metal of the past decade. The two axes Fredrik Graby and Peter Huss, for example, often indulge in solos that have an unbearable pomp/classic metal/rock-oriented feel, unforgivable considering a band that has the good taste to fill the internal booklet with images depicting dead newborns in white coffins (oh my!). The drumming by session musician Richard Schill is anonymous, basic, predictable, all set in a scenario that winks at the music biz, introducing a cheesy groove where thrash riffs and death metal pull-muting flirt with black'n'roll passages that, starting with the masterpiece "The Eerie Cold," have increasingly gained space.

Thankfully, the acoustic and chamber moments (piano and strings) remain to consolidate a sound that continues to favor an artificially melancholic mood, although not replicating that abyssal feel that characterized past works. The presence of a ballad with soft folk-progressive tones ("I Nattens Timma," for voice, piano, and acoustic guitar only) fails to surprise, despite being an important milestone for a band born under the banner of the most violent, alienated black metal, lacking compromise.

The concluding "FFF" attempts to bridge the gap with previous works, and the Hammond-based finale isn't bad, yet the forty-two tight minutes of this album pass by like a glass of orange juice, leaving a bitter taste due to the missed opportunity to add even a decently dignified piece to a journey that seemed immune from significant quality failures, but especially because the idea arises that this latest work by Shining was a bit rushed, put together without much conviction and lacking a raison d'être (not even the perfection of a formula already widely tested).

Even worse: not only are we at the bare minimum, but the album lacks the merit of showing the usual negative aspects that have always characterized the band, without presenting that essential counterpart (inspiration? Innovation? Atmosphere?) that until yesterday had smoothed out the flaws and evened the scores. As a result, it further degrades the image of an artist who certainly does not shine for his charisma.