Return to the Void

Shape of Despair return with merely their fifth album in twenty-two years and their first since 2015's Monotony Fields, but what they lack in quantity they make up for in quality. Now I don't think anyone can accuse Shape of Despair of being the heaviest of Funeral Doom acts, they don't focus on the sheer crushing weight of riffs as much as the genre's true heavyweights like Esoteric and Evoken, but they are imperious when it comes to expressing the melancholic, with a leaning towards the gothic.

The music itself is actually quite simple, the chords and riffs, such as they are, are fairly repetitive with very few changes in tone or tempo and lean towards the textures of post-metal as much as funeral doom, but variation is achieved through the vocal performances, which are superb throughout, whether it be Natalie Koskinen's hauntingly ethereal female vocals soaring over all like a lost love heard on the night winds, or Henri Koivula's crawling growls issuing from their abyssal depths along with his washed-out, world-weary cleans, the vocalists achieve an exceptional expressiveness and allow for an emotional connection to the tracks over and above that provided by the music itself. I don't mean to imply that the music isn't any good, because it is and, in fact, I think it's simplicity adds to the atmosphere the band are striving for. The keyboards and guitar leads still add to the melancholy air that permeates SoD's music in a way few can match, but those vocals are what truly set the atmosphere at another level. A track like Solitary Downfall for example, is just so sad-sounding that it is almost heartbreaking to hear.

Funeral Doom Metal is, for me, at it's best when it's crushing weight feels like a natural and irresistable elemental force, but Shape of Despair consistently prove that there is another outlet for this form of expression and that is the inner force of depression and sadness that, in it's own way, can be just as powerful as the mightiest ocean current or volcanic upheavel. With Return to the Void, Shape of Despair once more prove themselves to be absolutely masterful in using what can be seen as quite a monolithic form of music to express the many nuances of human sadness and that is a skill not to be taken lightly.

Much in the same fashion as fellow Finns and genre granddaddies Skepticism, Shape Of Despair have softened more and more any metal element in their funeral doom sound, to the extent where post-rock textures seem the most prominent feature. Of course, Shape Of Despair’s work remains marked by slowness, though the lush mixing of sounds and almost total absence of hard edges generates an atmospheric, even cinematic, feel throughout Return to the Void, only the fifth full-length in a history stretching back over 25 years. Natalie Koskinen’s ethereal, mist-soaked vocals add a sense of weightless vertigo to the landscaping of the rumbling guitars and dewy keys, while Henri Koivula’s low death growls offer glimpses of a craggy cliff in the background. As with plenty of other bands current in the Scandinavian and West European scenes, these 57 minutes offer a relaxed reflection on inner woes and inner peace.

Due to the drifting nature of the 6 songs, letting the whole album unfold is the only real choice, since one does not expect to be immediately sucked into the world of funeral doom by catchy moments. Indeed, if Return to the Void has a downside, it lies in the similarity of the tracks to one another and especially the overall very fixed sound palette. Supposedly, the title track nods back to the band’s early years as Raven, but while it certainly contains a pleasing melancholy melody line from the guitar, ‘Dissolution’ and ‘Reflection in Slow Time’ possess the punchier features in riffing and rhythms, giving them the slight advantage of breaking through the mist for a while. However, the more introspection the listening environment allows, the more fans will find to enjoy in Return to the Void, as it summons its own gradually sunsetting world around you.


Originally written for Metalegion #11 - www.metalegion.com