A etilla

Releasing their fifth album in nine years, Ea have been incredibly prolific and surely the best asset Solitude Productions have to their name both for publicity and economic gain. Despite the dwindling RYM rating with each successive release, the Ea sound has remained fairly constant over all five albums. The metal community seems to have a problem with a band whose sound does not progress enough, but those of us who can objectively enjoy an album despite it not possessing a pioneering sound will find a lot to love within A etilla's cavernous expanses.

2012's self-titled Ea began a new series of albums after the conclusion of what was apparently a trilogy comprising the band's first three. Like Ea, A etilla consists of a single song of almost the same duration, though I personally think this one is a lot more accomplished and homogenous. While both albums follow the classic formula of long, slow, beautifully mournful passages overlaid with hypnotic guitar leads interspersed with faster passages where the pace picks up, A etilla simply does it better. The transitions feel a lot more natural and organic rather than the very slightly disjointed feeling I was left with at times during Ea.

The album opens to some watery sounds (Ea was the ancient Akkadian god of water, particularly the water beneath the earth) before a majestic and gorgeous Gregorian-sounding male choir fades in to begin the music itself. With a band whose sound evolves at a slower pace than their plodding tempo, it's nice to hear a bit of experimentation in the choir sound used, and when the full band kicks in this slight experimentation continues. The full band gallops in at a pace much faster than we're used to, before progressively slowing down to their trademark funeral page over the first ten minutes of the album, and absolutely rapturous passage of music (if only the rest of the album was up to this standard I would awards it seven stars of five). The band return to their tried-and-true formula from this point on, cycling through sections of amaranthine guitar leads over plodding funeral doom that give way to interludes where the pace builds and intensifies. The music breaks down around the 36 minute mark to let the choirs take over again, allowing a short reprieve from the enormity of the Ea sound. The band returns again for a final ten minutes of music that feels like a reprisal of the album so far, before finally drawing to a close.

My experience with Ea so far shows a sine wave in terms of enjoyment, where the odd-numbered albums (Ea taesse, Au ellai and this one) are the more impressive of their discography, while the even ones are less exciting than those that precede and follow them. While this album is certainly not the place to start for a new Ea listener, it is an almost faultless album from a band whose lack of innovation is allowing them to fade from the critical spotlight they once claimed, like the decline of the ancient civilizations that their music evokes.