Skepticism
Lead And Aether

If there's a genre that has, over its years, slowly evolved and absorbed the most diverse influences without attracting too much attention, it is certainly Doom. Doom has never died, probably because it has never been trendy. For those who might not be aware, it's fair to say that relatively recently, a new trend within the subgenre itself has developed, primarily in Finland, which has been unimaginatively named "Funeral Doom." Born as an extremization of the already extreme "Death Doom," its founders include Thergothon (misunderstood at the time, now a cult band), and its leading exponents are Skepticism. The distinctive features are an exasperated slowness beyond the limits of endurance, an irreducibly leaden, dark, funereal pace, and a growling that has nothing human about it, sunk to such depths as to suffocate all light.

Despite the above premises, Skepticism are not brutal, not in the sense commonly referred to. On the contrary, minimalism is the key to understanding "Lead And Aether," the group's second album, containing six tracks of deeply atmospheric, introspective, shamanic music. The martial beats of the drums, the extremely subtle melodic lines of the guitar, the moans of the keyboards, the epic-liturgical incursions of the organ, and Matti's catacombal "singing" allow the savoring of an ancestral, esoteric, even purifying essence. It's pointless to cite individual tracks, as the entire work stands as a single enveloping black monolith, although, among them, I feel compelled to highlight "The March And The Stream" and "The Falls," undoubtedly among the highest expressions of modern Doom, capable of reaching an apotheosis in oblivion.

If you love losing yourself in the tunnels of darkness and are seeking something to quench your thirst, dive without looking back towards these gloomy Finns, they will know how to reward your trust.