By Bryan Camphire.
Artwork by Dhomth
The Great Art of Shadows. This is one possible translation of Ars Magna
Umbrae. This Latin name may not easily roll off the tongue, but no matter.
Listening to this music, it’s clear that the artist who created it is not
interested in easy pleasures. The Great Art of Shadows could hardly be a more
evocative and mysterious moniker. Apotheosis, the band’s third release,
is also a fitting title as it is indeed a high point in the development of
this compelling and carefully crafted body of work.
Ars Magna Umbrae is a one person black metal entity hailing from Poland.
The band’s previous release, Lunar Ascension,
caught my attention
as it was released by the venerable I, Voidhanger Records, an unmatched
tastemaker dealing in present-day outer reaches of music. What shocked me
about this artist then–and continues to do so now–is the uniqueness of
the voice. There is a sophistication in the sense of melody and
composition that becomes instantly recognizable and sounds like no other.
The high level of talent on display in the music of Ars Magna Umbrae is
unmistakable. I’m of the opinion that heavy metal music is a realm toward
which musical savants gravitate who would have, in former times,
gravitated toward classical composition. Nowadays, composing classical
music is no more likely to pay the bills than metal. Metal music affords
unique opportunities for emotional expression. Black metal can be seen as
an especially emotive sub-genre, one that venerates individuality and
poise. Describing how imperative it was for black metal bands to be unique
in the genre’s early formative years, Garm, aka Kristoffer Rygg, of Ulver
put it thusly,
“I think in those days that was a major criterion; to be a force to be counted on in the scene, you had to create your own thing. This latter-day perception that true black metal only sounds like Darkthrone is just fucking silly, it’s a lot of distortion on the original idea, which included stuff like Mercyful Fate, for crying out loud. The charisma of the music was really paramount.”
Going into detail about the singularity of the music on Apotheosis,
there are passages to be found within this release that are nothing short
of jaw-dropping. One such moment arrives as the second riff on the second
song, “She Who Splits The Earth”. A woozy 4/4 rhythm is stomped out as the
guitars glissando up and down the fretboard with uncanny precision. The
off-kilter feel is accomplished by the guitar cramming more notes into the
phrase than seem to want to fit, almost as though it’s
transposing some odd-metered tabla phrase
into an otherwise aggressively head-banging riff. I feel like I’d have to
hear it slowed down to even begin to make sense of it, yet it’s this
smearing of my perception that makes the riff so intoxicating.
Other Apotheosis highlights include: The wet gurgling vocals in the
lumbering end section of “Mare Tenebrarum” (The Dark Sea), evocative of a
pyroclastic flow belching skyward and scorching everything on which it
lands. The asymmetrical opening section in “Of Divine Divergence” giving
way to a sharp-taloned riff that shreds the listener to ribbons, ending in
yet another inter-dimensional guitar glissando. The dueling guitars in the
mid section of “Oracle of Luminous Dark”–one of which is played by G.G.
of Cosmic Putrefaction–sounding like they’re acting out the scene
depicted on the cover art for
Dawn of Possession.
Apotheosis ends with a number called, “Ignis in Tenebris” (Fire in
the Dark). It starts off sounding like the amp was just turned on
mid-phrase, as though the song was already unfolding before we arrived to
witness it. It builds steadily ablaze with the energy of an
all-encompassing darkness. Some time later, as the spell and the album is
extinguished, the guitar mimics the dying sounds of smoldering flickering
tongues.
Ars Magna Umbrae is a force to be counted on. Apotheosis is their
grand gesture. It’s a record of sweeping vision and charisma.
