True Traitor, True Whore

True Traitor, True Whore is honest. Say what you will about the album (Wrest himself apparently dislikes the result) a sense of personal sincerity is not something that can often be said for black metal. There is plenty of music out there inspired by feelings of anger and betrayal, but how much really sounds like it was penned in the midst of rage? The best artists have almost always felt the nagging blade of despair at one point or another, but the art usually comes after the fact, after there's been some time to come to grips with the bad feelings and find a way to channel them productively. I can say from personal experience that trying to be creative while depressed or enraged isn't just difficult, but usually fucking impossible. In the instances where music is made in spite of the handicap, it usually comes out sounding a head less nuanced and in-depth than usual.

It's the same feeling I had when I listened to St. Anger for the first time; regardless of the shit that album gets, it felt like a rare instance where Metallica made themselves completely vulnerable to the listener. Leviathan's active surrender to hatred and anger is decidedly less out-of-place than that of Hetfield and co., but you can immediately tell Whitehead was in a different state of mind when he wrote and recorded the album. Having recently heard (and loved) Leviathan's follow-up record Scar Sighted, True Traitor, True Whore offers significantly less depth and replayability than that, or some of the other masterpieces Wrest has conjured over the years. Parts of it sound undercooked, eschewing the meticulous corners of musicmaking, as if he felt rushed to get the thing done before the bite of rage began to wear off.

True Traitor, True Whore is an album that cannot be dissociated from the circumstances of its recording, specifically the alleged sexual assault Wrest was accused of by his then-girlfriend. The album's title makes no attempt to dress Wrest's feelings about the situation in metaphor, and the song titles pull no punches-- suffice to say, it may be reasonably assumed that "Every Orifice Yawning Her Price" wasn't penned with the same feelings of tenderness Seth Putnam had when writing Picnic of Love. True Traitor, True Whore is one of the few black metal albums that make me really want to look into the lyrics. It's not everyday you see an artist in this style drawing upon their life so directly; alas, no lyrics are included in the CD booklet, and none have been released to date. Why has Wrest withheld this aspect of the art? Maybe the lyrics would see fit to confirm his guilt. The vocal performance here sounds appropriately tortured (and a mite more pronounced in the mix than Wrest's usual shrieks) but without explicit lyrics, it feels like a potentially vital part of the album's experience has been withheld.

Although the songwriting rarely stays in one place for long, True Traitor, True Whore tends to favour a stripped down approach; distorted dissonant guitars, organic drums, and a mire of indecipherable snarling. The composition rarely sounds like Wrest cares whether the minor details mesh together or not. A handful of excellent songs (the surprisingly nuanced "Her Circle Is the Noose" not least of all) have still emerged from it, but more often than not, there isn't the feeling that True Traitor, True Whore has hidden secrets to reward the particularly patient or attentive listener. The guitars and drums are both performed impressively (at least relative to the genre) but don't always blend well together. There are times on the album where it sounds like the two instruments want to play something separate from the other-- a strange impression to get when the music is being played by one guy.

Although the writing isn't nearly as consistent or adventurous as it has been with some of Wrest's other work (again, I have recently experienced Scar Sighted) the times where the music ventures past the typically hazy raw dissonance are usually effective. Hear, for instance, the wonderfully out-of-place acoustic break past the halfway mark on "Harlot Rises", or the miserable shoegazing on "Brought Up to the Bottom". The detours on TT, TW don't have the coherence and intention of a better rounded masterpiece, but they make a welcome contrast to the expression of malice unleashed throughout the rest of the album. Considering how brutal the album generally comes across as being, it's surprising there are any moments of experimentation to be found on True Traitor, True Whore. Anger doesn't tend to leave much room for artsiness.

Even within Wrest's fairly prolific career, True Traitor, True Whore stands as a unique entry. It's far from being Leviathan's greatest work, but at the same time, any changes or additions after-the-fact may have taken away some of the visceral charge this album has in store. This is music forged in the furnace of fresh hatred, the source of the album's greatest strengths and weaknesses alike.