WoduridaR

The second of 2 Helheim albums I’ve been walking around with for some time, WoduridaR is both a more comforting experience than landawarijaR and also a tenser ride through blackened territories. On the comforting side, at least this one has a capital letter at the start of the name, not to mention that Helheim refer back to more traditional forms of black metal aggression rather than loose prog intermingled with their pagan roots. I played the pair of albums often on a loop, but it’s clear that they are different beasts and that the band’s strong will carries over on both. This is a path that may sound like Enslaved or Kampfar, but these bands travel parallel and never really meet. Besides, plenty of WoduridaR emulates the experience of being in the wilderness, so exacting comparisons don’t really do it justice.

My strongest feeling is that Helheim sound very Norwegian on most of these songs, generally choosing at least one or two typical tremolo riffs per song and adding in charging percussion on many of these occasions. That makes the opener ‘Vilje av stål’ quite a commitment in terms of heaviness, although more relaxing moods come in when clean vocals enter and the slower-paced pagan vibes begin to come through. As such, neither intensity nor sombreness is that far away, combining within songs to the exception of ‘Det kommer i bolger’, which has license as a 12 minute final statement to drift in mournful resignation. Some of the cuts have been easier to remember than others, partly because the themes for each song seem less specific to me, Helheim focusing more on an overall consonance of sounds and moods, which was not the case when I listened to landawarijaR. Other than the angular intensity of the opener, ‘Ni s solu sot’ sticks out as having one of those tangling guitar motifs that feels equal parts prog and black metal, though even here I sense some intention to be willfully unattractive from time to time.

It’s no surprise that the further Helheim go down their own road and the longer they live with their own way of thinking, the more peculiar and abstract some of their music may become. Once again, WoduridaR has its lonely uniqueness counting in its favour, yet I’m less likely to choose to return to these desolate realms, not because the band fail to imbue them with personality and atmosphere, just because it alienates me and refuses to allow much familiarity. A certain claustrophobia chokes the blackened sections, while that wide open feeling of the cleaner and more melodic moments is akin to finding yourself suddenly in a desert, not as free as you’d thought. There’s no denying that Helheim have turned in 52 minutes of inventive and interesting music, however, and I can’t help but respect their willful individuality in that regard.