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Kvelertak, Kvelertak: The Shape of Blackened Stoner Vikingcore to Come

Triply-guitared Norwegian outfit Kvelertak made a serious impression with their self-titled debut full-length, released last year on Indie Recordings. Enough of an impression so that Brooklyn’s The End Records came in with a bid for a US release of the six-piece’s Norwegian-language album, which they issued with six bonus tracks (presumably one for each member of the band) of demos and a live session at the BBC. The resulting “new” album is 17 tracks and 73 minutes long – a beast by almost any measure – even if Kvelertak’s sound wasn’t so drenched in vitality and ghastly relevance. The band, who’ve been hailed over the world for their creativity and for whom the hype has been not so much palpable as claustrophobia-inducing, blend a variety of genres across their original 11 studio cuts, touching on black metal, new school beardo stoner, screamo punk and party metal, with a Viking reference or two thrown in. There are parts that just begging for thousands of clapping hands at insert-European-festival here and parts that evoke a woodsy misanthropy, so Kvelertak is nothing if not running a wide gamut of influences.

That works to their benefit on these tracks, as each new reference that pops up is well blended into the context of an overall Kvelertak sound, and even in its darker moments, the upbeat energy of the record – perhaps its most infectious element – is maintained. With six members in the band, there’s room for a slew of backing vocals, gang chants and arrangement tweaks, and at times vocalist Erlend Hjelvik isn’t so much just screaming overtop of riffs has he is conducting a choir of shouts. As one would have to expect, solos abound. The guitars of Bjarte Lund Rolland, Maciek Ofstad and Vidar Landa trade off harmonies and leads, and there are songs that can be overwhelming for how much they have going on, but thanks to the work of Hjelvik, bassist Marvin Nygaard and drummer Kjetil Gjermundrød, the album is never completely out of control and an overarching flow is achieved. Despite the reckless sound of the band, the raucous nature of the material and the fact that opener “Ulvetid” starts out with a gang chant of the band’s name and closer “Utrydd Dei Svake” closes with one (at least lyric-wise), Kvelertak is neither dumb nor out of control. They know exactly what they’re doing here, and that counts among their several key assets.

At the most basic level, Kvelertak rocks. In almost every sense you can think of, the album is a collection of driving, uptempo tracks that – I’ll say it again because I don’t think it can be stressed enough – are so frantic they almost emit light. Captured in the studio by Kurt Ballou of Converge, the hardcore side of the band comes through in an aura of band solidarity. “Ulvetid” (which translates to “Hunting Time”) seamlessly melds punk and black metal in its layers of guitar, and Hjelvik is either to affect either style in his screams. Immediately, the record draws you in, and the Orange-hued opening riff of “Mjød” only drives that point further home. Despite being the shortest track on the album, “Mjød” is also one of the most memorable for its chorus, which, speaking no Norwegian, I still wanted to sing and clap along with. That track’s punk elements are to the front, but “Fossegrim,” which follows, starts off with a verse riff straight out of Norway’s blackened lineage. Where Kvelertak get into putting their stamp on it is just after 1:20, when the song breaks to just the guitar (sounds more like keyboard), taking the progression someplace completely differently before a solo/breakdown section and squibblies keep the guitars busy as Gjermundrød – to his credit – not only manages to keep up with the deluge of changes, but actually establishes a groove in each part and keeps the song moving.  One could hardly blame him if his head had exploded two minutes into the track.

“Blodtørst” is memorable for bringing in an acoustic-led break (punctuated by steady bass drum kicks) in its midsection, refusing even then to let go of the momentum the band has established. Everything on Kvelertak happens fast, and that’s part of what makes the record so exciting. It’s telling you to keep up with it if you can, and I think that part of the reason the band has had such success around the world is their being able to stay heavy in the traditional sense – fast, loud, dense tonality – while also working the punk accessibility into their sound. It’s a winning formula across this album, and I’d be surprised if others didn’t pick it up as a tactic in the future, the same way Torche’s brand of melodicism seems to have become universal these days among newer-school doomers. Kvelertak – with their John Dyer Baizley (Baroness) cover art, Kurt Ballou production and, now, specific American release – definitely have their sights on an international market, and going by the reaction Kvelertak has received, rightly so. As the riffy break in “Offernatt” – a place where Nygaard most makes his presence known on bass – fades into the classic rock opening of “Sjøhyenar (Havets Herrer),” it’s increasingly clear Kvelertak have something special going on sound-wise. Call and response vocal interplay on “Sjøhyenar (Havets Herrer)” results in one of the album’s most definitively punk moments, but again it isn’t long before the band changes it up with more acoustic guitars and a straight-ahead rocking chorus.

The song then goes full-blastbeat black metal shortly before the three-minute mark, and though the transition is clumsy, the appeal is still there. Kvelertak, who formed in 2007, are still a relatively young band, and the album sounds it. That too is a part of what makes it work; the excitement of where they might go from here. The only English-named song on Kvelertak, “Sultans of Satan” follows “Sjøhyenar (Havets Herrer)” with a catchy gang chorus à la “Mjød.” “Sultans of Satan” also features a stonerly nod in its midsection, where a nod-worthy riff is peppered by an Echoplex knob-twisting freakout – three guitarists, you can do that – before AC/DC riffs meet cowbell and the song opens to a lead and more chugging decadence. For the strength of its chorus, “Sultans of Satan” makes “Nekroskop” something of a comedown, but Kvelertak make it work anyway, playing up the black metal influence in the guitars while backing shouts lead to a surprising semi-melodic chorus, appealing in its own right. It’s a decent setup for the Enslaved nod that makes “Liktorn” a late-album standout.

Kvelertak is split by “Sultans of Satan,” and the latter half of the record, though shorter track-wise, features longer songs, in the five-minute range more than the three-to-four minutes cuts preceding. There isn’t a discernable change in approach, but “Liktorn,” at 5:35, does give the listener plenty to dig into, from the opening black metal section to the stonerly riffing that follows, to the Viking chants and back again across the gamut, being maybe the best example of the breadth, complexity and synergy Kvelertak are able to achieve on the record. “Ordsmedar av Rang” begins the closing duo with an ‘80s metal riff completemented by Hjelvik’s screams and cleaner backing vocals. It’s a less directly or superficially catchy song than some of the tracks on Kvelertak, but no less effective in showing the depth of arrangement that these songs contain, particularly in the guitars – acoustics, leads, riffs, noise – if I haven’t said it before, there’s an awful lot going on. As a finale, “Utrydd Dei Svake” doesn’t change that either. At 6:25, the song opens with single, muted hits, before launching into a Slayer riff – Gjermundrød on the ping ride – and upping the punk one last time before another catchy gang chorus or two, a killer break, the aforementioned band-name declaration, and an extending ending that sees Kvelertak meld classic rock and metal as well as anyone I’ve ever heard has managed to do so. Southern lead licks rest alongside punk pulsations, and it’s a fitting end to the album’s melee. More than fitting, actually. It fucking rules, not least of all because even after everything the band has done throughout the course of the 10 tracks prior, you still don’t see it coming. If I thought anyone read this far into reviews, I’d have put a spoiler warning three sentences ago.

Bonus tracks are a nice touch, and are bound to win over some of the American contingent who already shelled out for the import Indie Recordings version of the record into making another purchase, but there’s no question that the highlight of Kvelertak’s Kvelertak is the album itself. The band is young, and they sound young, but what they accomplish on these songs isn’t to be taken lightly, and though I’m not sure if I’m ready to sign on to the hype completely, I can at least understand where it’s coming from and offer no legitimate disagreement with it. Kvelertak is an exciting debut from a new outfit, and it has the potential to become remarkably influential on the course of modern heavy metal, underground and otherwise. Here’s hoping that the six-piece can keep hold of the vigor with which they execute the material here going forward, because if they can bring this kind of hunger to subsequent releases, they’ll be unstoppable.

Kvelertak on Facebook

The End Records

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3 Responses to “Kvelertak, Kvelertak: The Shape of Blackened Stoner Vikingcore to Come”

  1. Audi0phile says:

    Not to mention they are FUCKING AMAZING live. Saw them play their first show in the states (SF) in this hole in the wall bar. Those guys go apeshit and keep it going the entire set. Long live Kvelertak!

  2. Kuz says:

    I absolutely love this record. I’m really keen to see what they do next.

  3. C. says:

    I love the energy that this album has. I absolutely want to burst out of my skin after listening to this. I makes me want to MOVE. Not in a dancey way, obviously. You know, run, jump, move, speed. Drive fast.

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