Album Review: Until Death Overtakes Me - Diagenesis
Reviewed by Eric Clifford
Diagenesis is the name for a collection of processes by which sediments turn into rock, which is an appropriate moniker for an album that barely moves. That’s all part of the plan though, for Until Death Overtakes Me play funeral doom, as such they – or more accurately “he”, considering that this appears to be a solo project – crawls past at a pace that would have evolution checking its watch. I’m not generally a devotee of the slower arts within metal – I’m more of a blastbeats n’ gurgles type. But there is something about the aching lumber of funeral doom and drone with which I can connect. With that in mind, how does this little bundle of requiems fare?
Reasonably well, though with some caveats. It has little by the way of peaks or valleys, crescendos or build ups. It’s meditative, an apt soundtrack for creative hobbies like drawing. The flipside is that I could also describe it in similar if not synonymous terms as good background music, which is rather less complimentary. Most riffs are single note (I don’t think there’s a single chord in the entire hour long release) passages played – predictably enough – with a languid ease accompanied by echoing, distant vocals. I find it calming. Soothing, even. Occasionally quite beautiful, as with the maudlin violin strains of “White light”. When it all gels together, there’s a serene quality within it that speaks of the stillness of snowbound fields in the quiescence of night, unbroken white mirroring the starlight peering through the heavens. It’s grand. Ageless. Ghostly. “White Light”, all 16 minutes of it, is the apex of this album’s accomplishments. The guitar drones, distortion weighty as regret grounding the graceful ambience drifting above it. Sometimes it’s a little too abrupt, jarring me out of the reverie it formerly placed me in. I don’t necessarily mean when the guitars come in either – sometimes, they’ll just drop out, inelegantly cut off as opposed to fading out into the rest of the composition. Periodically it feels like the album simultaneously attracts and repulses, drawing me in only to eject me through the window with a clumsy transition or sudden gauche introduction of a new riff. It’s more an issue of execution than conception really, but it does take me out of the album quite often, which is a real shame.
It demands patience – 4 tracks, over an hour total of music. That’s a lot of misery to get through in one sitting. Insofar as I’m qualified to advise anyone to do anything ever, I’d recommend trying to relax with it. Letting it wash over you. There’s subtlety in the way the symphonic elements swell and recede. Nothing dramatic, but when “Ascension” allows its choral elements to breathe as the guitar drops out, and those gentle layers come to the forefront, it’s absolutely gorgeous. Occasionally it feels as though things are working at cross purposes; the limitations of the riff work stymie the album’s aspirations. I’m not suggesting anything so uncouth as ripping neoclassical shred tearing through with the explosive force of the Flash giving you a prostate massage, but like...Mournful Congregation do have leads in their songs. There’s a string bend they do in “The Waterless Streams” that just brings me to my knees, and I’d have liked to see some of that compositional versatility applied here. You don’t need to head off into free jazz noodling obviously, but just some more inventiveness than single note riffs on the lowest of low strings would have been so very welcome. It would make the album a little less homogenous – even if I enjoy what Diagenesis supplies, there’s no getting around how samey it’s content to be through it’s runtime.
Lilting keys pervade throughout, plaintive and gentle against the grim surge of the riffs. Drums – toms for the most part so far as I can tell – thump emphasis into the work, granting it a measure of dynamism. They’re less of a front-and-centre assault battery than a lot of metal percussion generally is, and more present to add weight to particularly forlorn sections of the music. Closer “For” illustrates this in fine style, it’s sombre stylings stepping forth with the moribund tread of coffin bearers greeting the cold earthen respite awaiting the dearly departed, a winding chain of mourners bringing the rearguard of the funerary procession behind them. Sole member Stijn – one of those startlingly prolific artists who reliably feature on multiple releases within any given year – obviously knows his way around funeral doom, and Diagenesis benefits from his singular vision as a result. It’s hard not to get on board with these tragic symphonic dirges snaking around minimalist percussion and guitars tuned somewhere below the sea floor, but even so he plays things very safely on this release, in complete accordance with the tropes of the genre. That’s not a demerit on it’s own terms, true, but even so, it would’ve been nice to see him perhaps think just a touch outside the box here from time to time.
But let’s not end on a sour note, for Diagenesis’ blend of sombre orchestration and massive guitar is always heavy in one respect or another. It bears within it the stark beauty of remote English hills, sodden by softly hissing downpours and combed by cold northern winds. Frustrating missteps acknowledged but put aside for the moment, there is much to love about this album, so if you’re in the market for something slow, hefty, and moody, give Diagenesis’ mopey charms a shot.
Be the first to comment