Cult of Luna, December

Earache Records

Think of Scandinavian metal and what comes to mind? Either presto-chango juggernauts Meshuggah or the Norwegian Black Metal scene, most likely. But recall that Sweden, particularly the far north, has spawned a whole host of interesting hard/heavy bands like Refused and Teddy Bears as well. Coming out of the Swedish hardcore scene (two of these fellows were in Eclipse), Cult of Luna is a band which – after several transformations – has clearly become inspired by and enamored of mood metal in the style of Isis and Neurosis. Like both of those bands, CoL boasts an absolutely huge sound which is not at all interested in pyrotechnics, displays of chops, or the like; rather, they’re committed to density, subtle layering (even at ear-splitting volumes), and movement. And CoL also has a keen interest in sampling technology, the integration of electronics, and so forth (their lineup includes vocalist Klas Rydberg – whose bark sounds not unlike Aaron Turner’s – , guitarists Erik Olofsson and Johannes Persson, bassist Andreas Johansson, drummer Thomas Hedlund, as well as Magnus Lindberg on sound engineering, percussion, and guitar, and Anders Teglund on sampler and synthesizer). But CoL’s sound has a sharpness, rawness, and sheer relentlessness that are all their own – for all the detail that is there in their hypnotic music, it’s embedded in a solid wall of sound.

This most recent release is not a follow-up to Cult of Luna’s justly acclaimed release The Beyond (also from 2003), but is actually a reissue of their 2001 self-titled debut (on the tiny Rage of Achilles label). Based on the evidence here, CoL has had a clear sonic vision from the outset. Aside from two brief instrumental tracks, the majority of this hour of music creeps slowly towards you in monolithic slabs. The focus of the playing and the arrangements, combined with the band’s attention to density and repetition, give the songs a real sense of urgency (seemingly underscored by their occasional incorporation of samples from political oratory). They hit hard, even when – as on “Dark Side of the Sun” – they employ strings and what sound like cathedral bells. This is fine, fine stuff from a band which will likely keep making waves.

I have long had a special fondness for that quirky, quizzical sub-genre known as mathcore. Sure, I like the bands that bring the rock and lay it down heavy; but if they can do it in shifting time signatures like some fuzzed-out Mahavishnu weaned on hardcore, more’s the better. I’m not sure if that last description really fits the bill for December, a Nevada (!) foursome whose debut record is now being re-released by Earache after the success of The Lament Configuration, but it at least hints at the band’s combination of sonic frenzy with awe-inspiring technical precision (not least from monster drummer Jason Thomas). Vocalist Mark Moots has an uncanny ability to terrify in two completely separate idioms: guttural menace and piercing shriek. Quicksilver riffery and tempo change fly past your earholes at warp speed. No melodies, no hooks, just unrelenting furor poised midway between Botch at their finest and the crazed howl of Napalm Death or vintage grindcore. Like a lot of similarly inclined bands – think Coalesce or Dillinger Escape Plan in addition to those already named – the hardcore edge really comes through the prog metal stylings as well, and that gives the music a directness that this genre often needs. They can bring the hardcore on the dizzying “Proximity” or thrash in a kind of Crimson-meets-Corrosion of Conformity way on “Heaven Below.” After withstanding the fury of the first 10 tracks, the band cool things down a bit with a handful of covers at the very end, from Skunk Anansie, Death Angel, and the mighty Motorhead (“Ace of Spades,” even!). Another fine reissue from Earache, whose help in bringing great bands out of obscurity is mighty appreciated.