Somewhere there exists a Metal Valhalla, an otherworldly paradise where all of the head-banging Vikings, beer-swilling Satanists, fist-pumping Klingons and face-painted Odinists are slam-dancing under the dark crimson moonlight to the pure amplified glory of the heaviest sounds in the Universe. For all we know, this Guitar Nirvana might be completely out of reach of mere mortals, at least in this lifetime, but that doesn't stop people from trying time and again to invoke it right here on Earth.
For the past two decades, as American and British metal bands have crept uncomfortably towards soulless rap-metal, middle-of-the-road alt-rock and hair-metal parody, Norway's legion of Black, Neo-Black and Blacker-Than-Thou Metal bands have gradually asserted themselves as the most extreme, experimental and creative force still untainted by irony and trendspotting. The scene made headlines in 1993 when Count Grishnackh of Burzum burned down a few churches then murdered his former Mayhem bandmate Euronymous, in a bid to prove that his virulently radical and amoral views were more than just a stylistic pose. Since the recent decline of Mayhem and Emporer, the Scandinavian scene's acknowledged godfathers, Dimmu Borgir have taken the gilded Viking helmet by the horns, releasing several masterful albums of megalithic death-rock that stand up to the best heavy classics of the past.
Death Cult Armageddon is their strongest effort to date, a Dionysian explosion that comes on like a nuclear assault and relentlessly pummels forward on its own twisted momentum. Dimmu Borgir are inspired by three demonic familiars known as Speed, Power and Majesty. Speed comes in the form of the primal, high-speed drumming of Nicholas Barker and the savage technical mastery of guitarists Silenoz and Galder. Power manifests in the growls, groans and operatic screams of vocalists Shagrath and Vortex. Majesty is provided by the symphonic keyboards of Mustis, who wields the entire Prague Philharmonic Orchestra to provide the final Wagnerian piece of the puzzle. The production on Death Cult Armageddon is precise and deadly, achieving an impressive balance between the symphonic backdrops and the vicious bombast of the band.
The album is filled with moments of dark orchestral intrigue, punching up the action. Mustis has clearly been influenced by the gothic symphonic film scores of Danny Elfman, as well as John Williams' space fanfares for Star Wars. "Progenies of the Great Apocalypse" builds a twisted tower of epic Hollywood intensity, quickly exploding into a monolith of speed-damaged brutality. Shagrath's growling vocals are phased and mutated, joined on two tracks by the powerful gut-wrenching of Abbath Doom Occulta of Immortal. Yes, it's overwrought, and unquestionably goofy, but it's also an amazingly entertaining listen. I've never heard another band that puts quite so much visceral energy into scaring the hell out of their audience while simultaneously blowing out their eardrums.
There's not a dud among the 11 tracks on Death Cult Armageddon, but the album certainly builds up to the dual orgiastic climaxes of the two lengthy final tracks — "Unorthodox Manifesto" and "Heavenly Perverse" — where soaring symphonic swells are unashamedly wielded to devastating effect. The songs willfully change tempo and direction, dipping into industrial rhythms, gothic drama and Slayer-style debauchery, pausing every now and then to reinforce their own violent virtuosity. This is the Close to the Edge of the Black Metal genre; revelatory progressive metal for a post-apocalyptic millennium.
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