Labyrinth

also shaken and stirred the Bulgarian way, I mean, by this obscure bunch from the beautiful provincial town of Pleven who also had ties to another metal outfit, the retro thrashers (at the time) Absolute. I completely missed out on this marvel here back in the 90’s, but thanks to the Internet, globalization and other benevolent new millennium’s phenomena the fans, including me, are swiftly catching up with worthy music instalments from all corners of the world.

Strange provided that I had a girlfriend from Pleven, a devoted goth she was back in those days, and had visited the city a number of times; never tasted the cider over there, but did swallow a couple of pints from the local beer which, strange again, wasn’t that freely offered elsewhere around the country.

Never delved into the labyrinths over there, either, but if there ever was one I should have chosen to explore back then, it should have been the one reviewed here. So our friends, among whom one would easily notice a beautiful lass, the keyboardist, have chosen the classic progressive/technical power/thrash path for their lofty exploits, their approach quite comparable to the one of the representatives of the Swedish wave (Hexenhaus (later Memento Mori), Pathos, Abstrakt Algebra, Fifth Reason) that was still relevant at the time when the album here came out. In fact, the delivery comes as a potent blend between Hexenhaus’ last two (“Awakening” and “Dejavoodoo”) with more twisted, more entangled riff-patterns circling around those recalling Psychotic Waltz and Deathrow and, respectively, the collaboration between these two End Amen.

Expect no speedy skirmishes here, the sole exception being the brisk shredder “Dying World”, as the focus is clearly on the weaving of entangled, patiently-woven, labyrinthine indeed configurations the mid-paced steam-rolling seismicity of "Room of Dreams" carved by spasmodic (read mid-tempo at best) thrashy outbursts those missing from the 10-min saga "Metamorphoses of Emptiness" which clings more towards the doomy canons, and would have fitted into any of the first four Candlemass efforts. Thrash takes the upper hand on the dynamic "Realised Insanity" where the guitars form a spell-binding symbiosis with the haunting keyboards the latter retained for another gigantic composition, "Edge of Absurd", a contrived thrilling ride with stylish intricate riffs galore recalling Hexenhaus’ monumental “Necronomicon ex Mortis” from “Awakening”. Another 10-minuter, “Faith”, is pulled out handsomely at the end, a diverse mazey rifforama with several fast-paced walkabouts inserted as well, fighting their way through the very dense Deathrow-esque technicality and the breath-taking balladic/semi-balladic respites.

There will be quite a few challenges for the listener on this over-an-our long odyssey, some steelclad and sharp, others meditative and dreamy both sides co-existing on every track save for the mentioned "Dying World", the guys (and a girl) doing their best to not lose themselves on the longer numbers where a lot of things happen, the charmingly convoluted at times plot readily swallowing all the twists and turns, the engaging musical setting greatly helped by the excellent clean emotional vocals those quite reminiscent of Thomas Lyon, the last Hexenhaus singer (both of the mentioned albums). Surprising maturity is exhibited from the very beginning, and although the band’s enthusiasm in showing everything from their arsenal sometimes wins over the compositional discipline, one would find it hard to come up with a better example of a cleverly constructed technical/progressive power/thrash opus from the Balkans from the 90’s.

Did the band throw everything they could and knew into the furnace on this stint? Seems that way provided that they split up shortly after this album’s release although some of the band members, including the vocalist Atanas Kostadinov, are alive and well in the new millennium with the progressive power metal outfit Fat White Chiefs, another very good band modelled after the early Crimson Glory and Fates Warning exploits. Siding with the better once again? Totally, although it wouldn’t hurt if a few pints of this characteristic twisted cider get swallowed… sorry, added to the recording sessions on future instalments.

Sider’s ‘Labyrinth’ is insane techno-thrash, in the sense of being both techno-thrash and about insanity. For some sort of comparison, one could say that they combine the technicality of a Watchtower or ‘A Social Grace’-era Psychotic Waltz with a more developed and pronounced form of the chaotic elements of Spiral Architect, and finally a level of general insanity which can only perhaps be compared with Cyriis’ Stellar Seed release. That’s a rough sketch, although ultimately Sider are just Sider, and this is not simply a bunch of technical and insane riffs, although there is that, but also a very human record, in a sense.

Now, techno-thrash first found its bearings in the context of the Cold War, with bands such as Watchtower offering furious polemics against war and oppression, while bands like Deathrow and Dyoxen offered attacks on the domination of machinery over man and the turning of men into unthinking cogs. In a sense, one could say that the essence of this form of techno-thrash is that of a reassertion of humanity against the mechanisation of man and dominance of inhuman, callous forces. In a sense, Sider is the most personal of these bands; in this album, social critique takes a background place, and in the foreground is an examination of an individual’s descent into madness, the geography of a mind.

As such, the album follows the route of a concept album; this makes the investigation of the same individual a constant theme of the record, hence thrusting his mental progress forward as the determinant of the musical progress of this album. Secondly, they utilize a technique which has been used for some tracks by other bands, but probably required Sider’s brand of techno-thrash to achieve perfection: a conflict between the vocals and guitars. Perhaps in this their closest allies are Voivod on some songs off ‘Nothingface’, although musically the two are quite different, and even in this the similarity is not that strong.

The element of this album which is probably most likely to turn listeners off is the vocalist. In order to appreciate the vocals properly, it helps to understand the role which they play in the album. Generally, their role is that of representing the human, the strains of sanity and hope remaining within the madness. As such, they clash and conflict with the labyrinthine, twisting insanity of the riffs; this album is not one for singing along, nor one dominated by vocals a la ‘Rage for Order’. The album is a descent into insanity, wracked by conflict, and as such it must be taken in as a whole in order to truly experience its violent contradictions. One does not identify with the narrator simply through the passion of the vocals, but through the passion of the vocals in contrast with the dissonant chaos beneath it. Now, the vocalist himself does not have a massive range or extraordinary technical skill, although he is more dynamic than he may initially appear, but what he always has is a sense of humanity, of both frailty and hope, longing and despair. Perhaps the closest comparison that can be made here is to Secrecy’s vocalist, with the same sense of humanity and sincerity, although even here the comparison isn’t nearly absolute, with this vocalist being better suited to this subject matter. Perhaps one could also compare him to the Buddy Lackey of the Aslan demo ('We'll reach for the stars'), in spirit if not in sound.

The album, given its theme of a descent, progresses continually towards insanity, becoming increasingly more bizarre in its compositions. Hence, let us examine this progress in more detail. The album begins with ‘Labyrinth of Hypocrisy’. The intro is a mixture of hope and melancholy perhaps most reminiscent in atmosphere of a combination of a Virgin Steele interlude with the introductory track of the game ‘Shadow of the Colossus’. Then the guitars enter, along with the drums. The guitar tone is dark and cutting in a manner very appropriate to techno-thrash, and the first thing that one notices is how professional and thought-out this is, certainly far more than one would expect when starting up some record from an obscure Bulgarian band. The thing that one realizes about Sider as the record goes on is that they always know exactly what they are doing; they are all over the place, one could say, but never sloppy. Indeed, their actual playing is always very ‘tight’.

The riffs on this song are fast, even vicious, an effect accentuated by their cutting under the still-hopeful vocals. ‘I’m not afraid’; then the guitars cut across. There’s a soft, ‘symphonic’ tune in the background; Sider use this fairly often, although it’s generally fairly faint, unlike in Rhapsody et al, and rather serves to accentuate and magnify the impact of the riffs. The focus of this track is not yet the madness which shall later ensue, but more upon a dark undercurrent and sense of entrapment, as suits the name. The guitar will still cut around, employing jarring notes and dissonances to create an atmosphere of futility and hope continually dashed. This plays an even greater part in ‘Visions in White’, where we have sudden dissonant notes cutting in quite frequently, of the sort of tone Voivod is known for. Despite the vocalist’s brave words, in the back of his mind he knows that he’s trapped, that there’s no escape. He is trapped in a labyrinth of hypocrisy, and unable to act, to create or change anything.

However, there is still hope. Now, I have previously remarked on how the album is marked by a continual conflict between the vocals and instruments, yet an effect of this is that in the various cases when they unite, this is made more powerful due to the prior contrast. In 'Visions in White, for example, there is a brief hopeful section, where the guitars suddenly come into harmony with the vocals. Then, a great solo in the same spirit; the solos on this album are brilliant, sometimes reminding one of solos by the band Holocaust in their prog-era. This builds up to a very effective section featuring death growls contrasted with the vocalist at his most passionate. ‘Labyrinth of Hypocrisy!’ Really, the growls fit the atmosphere perfectly: heavy, deep and aggressive. There is no escape.

The next song, ‘Room of Dreams’, begins with an introduction of the stranger aspects of the riffing which shall later become more frequent. We have the sudden intervention of keyboards, and then later acoustic guitars; none of the usual pleasant, sentimental keyboard stuff, here they come in to add to the sheer chaos conjured by the rest of the music. The chorus is incredibly human, representing a sort of submission and sadness, yet some strange positivity behind all of this, some reason still resisting the insanity.

‘Metamorphoses of Emptiness’ is a song which wouldn’t be particularly great on its own, but in this context, following the relentless assault of riffs in the first three songs, represents a beautiful assertion of humanity, of human longing and hope. At times, it sounds almost as if the vocalist is musing to himself; he is stifled, yet wishes to break free somehow, to express himself, but he can’t. He can find no inspiration around him. The song is quite varied and dynamic, despite being the simplest song here in terms of riff structure, due to being one of the longest periods where all instruments express the same thing; it also features a brilliant outro. All in all, it works really well in this context.

Then, things start slipping away. ‘Realised Insanity’ represents submission, hopelessness and entrapment; the vocalist does not know if he has any strength left. Some of the playing on this song is almost akin to ‘Killing Technology’-era Voivod, and the drums are ruthless. The technical nature of the riffs becomes continually colder, more technocratic and oppressive. They twine and circle around like snakes, suffocating. Then comes ‘Edge of Absurd’, probably the highlight of the album.

Here, we have reached the peak of insanity; voices emerging in the background, echoes, chanting, a deep voice repeating ‘Edge of absurd’ under the chorus, monotone and feelingless. The opening is brilliant, with an excellent use of pianistic playing under the riffs to create a feeling of insanity; there’s just something implacably ‘off’ with the whole thing, and yet it is deliberately engineered to add to the atmosphere. The guitars resemble Psychotic Waltz at their most labyrinthine. But what really makes this song is the instrumental section, where the progressive and atmospheric tendencies of the band reach their height. Riffs twist around, stop and start abruptly, and form, well, a psychotic waltz. The section incorporates all sorts of styles and playing, representing the final crushing of all hope, falling over the edge of the absurd. There’s some jazzy playing, although suitably demented, and a memorable section in which the band have a piano playing a melancholy tune under the guitar, and then the guitar suddenly stops, leaving the piano playing alone, quietly; again, it just gives off the feeling of something being ‘off’, of even the human melancholy and feeling descending into the grasp of insanity. This is essentially the climax of the album, and is most powerful when listened to in the context of the whole album, where it represents the final crash of the contradictions which have wracked this album so far.

‘Dying World’ is perhaps closest to Watchtower and such in theme; the world is dying under the weight of wars and destruction. The end is near, what’s there to remain for? Then, finally, the journey ends with ‘Faith’. Here, we have a last stand of humanity, a last bead of hope, yet the only hope of escape is death. The vocalist’s soft hopefulness clashes with some of the most savage riffs on the album. The vocalist sings, perhaps naively, ‘I can fly up in the sky!’, gradually fading out, as if the world were mocking him, leaving only the outro, funereal and solemn. Then, nothing.

So that’s it, then. This album is powerful, moving, mentally exhausting in the best of senses, and quite disturbing in its latter half. It is not disturbing in the sense of random screams and whatnot trying to scare you, but in the gradual erosion of humanity, and the viciousness and unpredictability of the riffs. It has been somewhat neglected, and really shouldn’t be.