Argoat

Belenos, or the old king of Breton black metal... Starting as a genuine band with multiple members, it has pretty much summed up for the last fifteen years to the sole Loïc Cellier, helped by occasional guest musicians. As the only Celtic area in France, Brittany has always appeared like a cultural exception in the country, and Belenos is proud to be one of its respected representatives: the last turn towards regional authenticity was taken around 2010, when the texts were definitely switched from their original French to all-Breton language.

I won’t pretend I’ve listened to the entire Belenos discography but, judging from what I know, this latest effort Argoat isn’t better, nor worse, than its predecessors. Fully solid, fully professional, no doubt; but always lacking this little extra flavour which makes the essence of true classics. Of course, its longevity alone has made the one-man Breton act somehow a classic of the French black metal scene. This doesn’t hide the fact its sound hasn’t changed so much over the years, and if this both harsh and melodic, remotely medieval atmosphere was once innovative, by 2019 it has long degenerated into a cliché on its own, especially in France – remember Sühnopfer and co., without mentioning the countless less-talented clones proliferating in the wake of Peste Noire’s debut. The Breton lyrics, which should add a distinct personality, are mostly delivered in an incomprehensible manner, so the language eventually makes little difference.

Still, Loïc Cellier knows how to build an atmosphere, that’s undeniable. You can easily imagine the man walking alone on the desolate moors of his beloved Brittany, while elaborating the tunes for his next opus. Unlike his fellow countrymen from Heol Telwen for instance, he doesn’t need to rely too much on traditional melodies or biniou pipes samples to create an archaic vibe. Keyboards outlawed as well, naturally. A guest “medieval fiddle” on Dishualder, a few acoustic breaks regularly scattered throughout the album, are already more than enough. The slightly granular production gives the predominance to the electric guitars, of which the thick, rich sound haunts the forefront, the vocals being overall muddled behind, save for the more resounding clean parts. Loïc is a skilled singer, who easily alternates between mid-range black metal screams and a clean chant which manages to sound grand without falling into pompous ridicule. A large place is devoted to purely instrumental parts – melodic, majestic, melancholic. Short guitar solos add a technical note. But again, we’ve heard all that before, from Belenos or others.

Now that’s what is called a coherent release. After ten seconds of soundscape intro the first bars of Karv-den blast in, and from then on Argoat has found its direction – onward to the savage Breton shores! – from which it will never, ever depart. These nine tracks could have been merged into a single, long one without much difference. The mood, the sound, the mid-paced tempos, are remarkably equal, to the point that the smallest deviation from the general scheme is enough to make a track stand out: when the pace timidly increases on Huelgoat, or the fiddle moans on Dishualder. Otherwise the drums endlessly pound, pure double bass abuse with a good load of blastbeats, the guitars endlessly wail, the bass endlessly prowls behind, the walk is endless on the wind-lashed moor.

That anyone interested in the French black metal scene should check a Belenos album is probable. That this very album to check is Argoat is less probable. Only, I can’t tell which Belenos album would be truly that album.

Highlights: Karv-den, Huelgoat, Dishualder