Myrkur — Mareridt album launch
Rough Trade East, London, 15/09/2017
It was a dark and stormy night…
No, really. Well, more of a drizzly one if I’m honest, but still grim, cold and gloomy enough to feel appropriate for a black metal album launch. Except, ironically, that Mareridt by Myrkur is anything but your average black metal album.
Myrkur’s a controversial figure in the underground metal scene but I’ve always had a lot of respect for her. She does whatever the hell she wants with the genre and seems impervious to derision which, to me, is metal as fuck. Every fan has their own definition of what black metal is (and I could probably fill a thesis with mine) but most would agree that atmosphere and attitude are key. While a purist aesthetic and a cultural elitism can form part of this, it’s by no means essential. Myrkur’s sound strays further from a traditional Scandinavian sound with every release, but she’s also developing a unique style of her own. It’s one that stays true to the cold, alienated feeling of what black metal should be about, while menacingly welcoming other styles into its dark embrace.
Mareridt itself is perhaps a minor masterpiece. It blends the raw, mysterious metal of her self-titled EP with the neofolk arrangements of Mausoleum and the more accessible song structures of M in a way that feels like this is her first fully-formed release. A serious statement of intent and a showcase of ability. There’s a fierce defiance on this album; a feeling of ‘letting go’ that feeds its energy throughout. Clearly, the last thing on her mind here is what people might think.
She even harks back to her (rarely discussed) past in indie-rock duo Ex-Cops with catchier (almost poppier) tracks like Gladiatrix. These echo her former band (almost like a middle finger to those who keep bringing it up) but, again, don’t dilute the power. If anything, the musical melting pot she’s stirring here makes for a headier brew and there’s a certain alchemy at work, bringing together these disparate ingredients. Besides, since when has a bit of catchiness got in the way of true black metal? Who can argue that the main riff from Transilvanian Hunger isn’t, in its way, as catchy as a Eurovision winner? However, when Mareridt goes properly heavy — like on standout track Måneblôt — it slays, laying waste to doubters beneath a wave of shrieking fuzz and savage chanted lyrics.
I admit some of the influences are hardly veiled — The Serpent evokes King Dude, Funeral has a grinding doomy Chelsea Wolfe vibe (not least because she plays and sings on it), Crown has soaring Bjork-like vocal lines and Bornehjem seems to borrow heavily from (of all things) Womb by :WumpScut: — but I think Myrkur has more than enough of her own style, and any lifts are done with an obvious reverence. Mareridt is the sound of a clear new vision, of an artistic voice becoming louder with each song. It threatens that whatever’s next is going to be immense.
This sense of immensity was out in force last night at Rough Trade for the album launch. With minimal accompaniment, Myrkur performed an acoustic set with a voice so huge you could almost feel it. If you’ve not been to Rough Trade, it’s a old-skool record shop with a small stage at the back, adorned with tinsel like a school disco. There’s all manner of industrial piping in the ceiling. It’s an incongruous urban setting for the kind of ancient, evocative melodies that Myrkur chose to play in her set but a testament to her presence that she still held the small audience (60 or so people) in captivated silence. We could’ve been in a forest, up a Carpathian mountain, or down a well, for all it mattered. I think it’s safe to say everyone there was ‘in the moment’
Opening with De Tre Piker, Myrkur played three songs by herself, just vocals and a Scandinavian nyckelharpa. Then she brought on Matthew Daly (last seen in Marika Hackman’s touring band) on acoustic guitar while she switched to just vocals for two more songs, ending on a transcendent Ulvinde (surely one of the best songs released this year?). It’s impossible to not wax lyrical about her vocal talent. I can’t remember, especially in such an intimate, virtually accapella environment, hearing someone sing with such force and such range. The acoustic setting made more obvious not just her phenomenal voice but also her songwriting skills. The Serpent, in particular, reduced to just guitar and vocals was gripping, combining ethereal sweetness with a suffocating violence (and yes, a catchy hook — fuck all y’all).
At the end, Myrkur stuck around to sign copies of the new album and — contrary to the brooding figure in the mist that adorns the cover of M –was extremely friendly, happy to talk to everyone and in no rush at all (and, for the benefit of particularly vain sad sacks like me, was cool with having photos taken). I guess there’s a section of the scene that would prefer her to skulk off into a forest, live under a wooden bridge and never speak to anyone but honestly, I think it’s great that she’s willing to connect with people who’ve come to see her and who feel like they’re on that wavelength. You only need to watch the recent documentary Blackhearts to see the power of what black metal fans can achieve when they come together, so I think it’s great that Myrkur has dropped the mystery and got out there.
Black metal, as a genre, has moved forward from the 90s (indeed, the 2017 bands who try to slavishly imitate Darkthrone sound dated and utterly unadventurous) and I’m more than willing to follow Myrkur into her strange, dark future.
