I don’t usually do things this way, but because so much of what makes Hull’s second album for The End Records, Beyond the Lightless Sky, as ascendant as it is is how the Brooklyn triple-guitar five-piece have it organized, I feel it’s better to lay out the tracklist and runtimes up front rather than to go through the process of exploring each cut into the next and trying to mirror the experience of listening (at least that’s the theory behind it) in the review. Here they are:

1. Earth From Water (11:16)
2. Just a Trace of Early Dawn (5:02)
3. Beyond the Lightless Sky (6:50)
4. Curling Winds (2:36)
5. Fire Vein (9:40)
6. Wake the Heavens, Reveal the Sun (2:42)
7. False Priest (8:43)
8. A Light that Shone From Aside the Sea (3:12)
9. In Death, Truth (6:40)

Now, in looking at the list and listening through the narrative Beyond the Lightless Sky, which follows behind Hull’s 2009 The End debut, Sole Lord, and 2007 self-released Viking Funeral EP, the first thing one might notice is the disparate track times, and that gets to the very center of the album’s methodology. Everything under six minutes is instrumental, and with the exception of “Just a Trace of Early Dawn,” which is longer and a more substantive introduction to that side of the record’s personality, can be read as transitional material between the longer and more extreme (in a heavy metal sense) songs. With this album, Hull play post-metal ideology off post-rock ambience, and by that I mean they’re crushingly heavy in a cerebral sense – the drums of J. Stieber show immediate theory on “Earth From Water” and prove to be an excellent grounding force throughout – but given also to emotional stretches of guitar-led ambience, as on “Curling Winds” or the Pelican-esque “A Light that Shone From Aside the Sea.” Hull work so fluidly within these different but not necessarily clashing parameters that one is through the album’s 56:37 multiple times before the structure necessarily becomes apparent.

Helping that as well is that, as much as “Curling Winds,” “A Light that Shone From Aside the Sea” and the Neurosis-style tribal drumming of “Wake the Heavens, Reveal the Sun” — on which Jarboe (ex-Swans and current, well, Jarboe) offers distinct guest incantations and engineer Brett Romnes joins in the percussive pulse – are transitional leading from one longer piece to the next, they’re substantial in their own right, harnessing cloud-covered atmospheres to match Hull’s stated conceptual framework for Beyond the Lightless Sky, which tells the story of two ancient Mayan brothers, one who, “finds salvation amongst the stars and the wisdom of a stranger, while the other is mesmerized with the bloodthirsty belief of sacrifice and self-mutilation” (source). While they can’t necessarily match the likes of the title-track for intensity or the luminescent triumph of “Fire Vein,” they have their own progression, and particularly in the case of the last, underscore the strong interplay of guitarists A. Mack, C. M. Laietta V and N. Palmirotto (Hull are notoriously guarded when it comes to full names) leading into the rampant complexity of the closer. Beyond the Lightless Sky joins the ranks of strong 2011 releases from the likes of Rwake and Grayceon that affirm there’s more to be done in post-metal than aping Isis’ Panopticon. On their second album, Hull have come into their own and not only join the ranks of forward-thinking American metallers, but position themselves at the front of the pack with a few moments of unabashed, unashamed modern metal.

And of course there’s more to the appeal of Beyond the Lightless Sky than structural intricacies. The guitars are fairly compressed – one imagines that with three and such thunderous tones between them they have to be to achieve any clarity – and a Billy Anderson (Melvins, Eyehategod, Sleep, et al) mix puts a lot of emphasis on S.B. Dunn’s bass, which only makes the start-stop progression that agonizes during the final moments of the title-track all the more tense. Hull earns immediate kudos by starting with their longest song, and “Earth From Water” soon earns respect on a sonic level as well with a driving pummel and the multi-vocal tradeoff approach that typifies most of Beyond the Lightless Sky. That variety makes the record feel manic at times, and perhaps busier than Hull might have intended, but to coincide with the ebb and flow structure of the songs is an ebb and flow structure within them. Palmirotto, Laietta and Mack play off each other excellently for “Earth From Water” and across the rest of the album, coming together to amass a giant riff for the song’s instrumental chorus (also where Stieber first shines) as one soon takes flight for one of Beyond the Lightless Sky’s several landmark solos. It can be an overwhelming listening experience, but the real genius of the way its put together is that Hull, in effect, provide breathing room for each of their longer tracks.

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The well-received Norwegian four-piece Spirits of the Dead released their self-titled debut in 2010 to what was – if the extensive collection of press quotes is anything to go by – considerable fanfare. The follow-up to said debut arrives in the form of The Great God Pan (North American release by The End Records), a short but memorable full-length collection of six engaging tracks that hones in on early-‘70s pagan folk with just a hint of dark undercurrent lurking beneath the melodic sweetness. Unlike many other retro acts, Spirits of the Dead aren’t just trying to ape a specific style or one band in particular’s aesthetic – i.e. the way early Witchcraft so directly took on Pentagram. Rather, The Great God Pan is traceable on a more vague level, culling some of its layered lead work from Tony Iommi in its final moments, but progressing as a whole along altogether different lines, and most importantly, taking the retro or otherwise familiar elements of which it’s composed and creating something fresh from them. There is a calmness to The Great God Pan that comes through in its bright tonality, and like the best of their genre, these songs are viewed as though from a grainy, sun-flared photograph.

But though they obviously dwell in a secret forest of krautrock LPs and obscure folkadelia (they have secret forests in Oslo, right?), Spirits of the Dead aren’t limited to retro posturing either. The ringing clarity of the acoustics that begin The Great God Pan opener “Mighty Mountain” and the ensuing distorted guitar revving both sound entirely modern. Guitarist Ole Øvstedal shows restraint throughout the album, and “Mighty Mountain” is just the first instance of it, as the electric guitar again cuts out to acoustic sway, coming back only for a simple start-stop progression in the chorus. Frontman Ragnar Vikse leads the drama of the verses, and proves to be more than capable of taking charge of a song in the classic tradition of the standalone singer. Even with Øvstedal playing a multi-layered lead under, it’s his repetition of the titular chorus line – he’s almost chanting it by then; far back in the mix and echoing – that has the listener enraptured. Drummer Geir Thorstensen keeps to rim shots and jazzy hi-hat/ride interplay for most of “Leaves of Last Year’s Fall,” which is among the more woodland psych of The Great God Pan’s tracks in terms of its atmosphere. Vikse’s voice is deft and almost molten in its ability to jump from note to note, and with the subtle fills of bassist Kristian Hultgren playing out under Øvstedal’s gorgeous leads, there’s a touch of class brought into the song that’s complemented – not undercut – by the somewhat foreboding progression of the bridge. Spirits of the Dead affect a decent build and chaotic payoff, but never meander too far from the straightforward structures on which their material is built.

It’s with “Pure as the Lotus” that The Great God Pan gets its first real injection of ritual. The cut – second in length only to the closer at 6:22 – begins with hard thuds from Thostensen topped with a fuzzy riff from Øvstedal and incantation ah’ing from Vikse, and it’s a clear change in atmosphere from first two songs, the underlying darker vibe of “Leaves of Last Year’s Fall” coming to the fore for the introduction. The single hits of percussion remain a focus and the melody is rounded out by sustained organ in the verse, and the chorus opens more widely into forest worshiping grace. There’s a development to the track that the insistence of Thorstensen and Hultgren’s rhythm helps highlight, but Vikse’s melody seems to be in a world of its own, which helps set up a duality that joins back together as the intro is revived in the song’s back half, leading to a hypnotic, guitar-led instrumental break that eventually fades out on the chorus. Like a lot of The Great God Pan, “Pure as the Lotus” is built around melodic quirk and a heavy dose of personality, but there’s a solid structural foundation underneath. That remains true for the softly-cooed exclamatory title-track, “The Great God Pan!”

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Among the seemingly endless horde of bands coming out of Brooklyn these days, Hull remain unique in that their mission is to crush without discretion. Their 2009 The End Records debut, Sole Lord, showed a conceptual edge that was new to the band, and with the forthcoming follow-up, Beyond the Lightless Sky — due out Oct. 11 once again via The End — they seem to have refined the approach. And as far as that “crushing” thing goes, a Billy Anderson mix on the new record probably isn’t going to hurt.

Feast your eyes on the prophesying of the PR wire:

Hailing from the streets of Brooklyn, New York, Hull has yet again emerged with a creation to outlive the ages. Hard at work since the release of their 2009 debut, Sole Lord, ideas were envisioned and the mighty wind of creativity brought upon this Earth the latest saga, Beyond the Lightless Sky.

Digging further into the past, the Mayan epic takes the listener through a division of two brothers and the struggles that they are faced with. One finds salvation amongst the stars and the wisdom of a stranger, while the other is mesmerized with the bloodthirsty belief of sacrifice and self-mutilation. In silence lies a realm that exists outside the plane of fear.

Taking the new songs on the road, Hull embarked on a successful mission to Austin for the SXSW festival to then triumphantly return and join forces with longtime friend and talented engineer/percussionist, Brett Romnes (IATA). Within an enormous, darkened club, many nights fell into morning as the immense sound was captured for the album, before putting the recording into the hands of a mixing madman, Billy Anderson. With such experience as the Melvins, Neurosis and Eyehategod, the journey was brutally finished.

Known to behold vast sound expanses, Hull maximizes harmony and tone within one monstrous palate. Upon your brow, focus, as a furious whip of intermingling guitars propel you through the atmosphere as a low pulse resonates through your entire being while the pounding drums blanket all chasms of reality. Find yourself immersed in a musical tide as it is played out before your ears beyond the lightless sky.

Beyond the Lightless Sky track listing:

1. Earth From Water
2. Just a Trace of Early Dawn
3. Beyond the Lightless Sky
4. Curling Winds
5. Fire Vein
6. Wake the Heavens, Reveal the Sun
7. False Priest
8. A Light That Shone From Aside the Sea
9. In Death, Truth

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.

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What I like most about Chicago‘s Novembers Doom is that they’ve never, ever fit. They weren’t death metal when they started out and that was the thing to be and now that their entire city is hopped up on doomly artistry and giant riffs, they’re playing death metal. Stubbornness is a virtue.

The PR wire has the goods on their upcoming eighth album. Dig it:

American dark metal pioneers Novembers Doom have commenced recording of their eighth full-length studio album, Aphotic. The album is set to be released on The End Records in Spring 2011. Aphotic is being recorded at Belle City Sound in Racine, Wisconsin, with longtime Novembers Doom collaborators Chris Wisco at the controls and Dan Swano mixing.

Frontman Paul Kuhr said, “We plan to capture something new from the band. This recording builds upon the foundations the band has laid over the years, but we are taking it into a new direction. We plan to redefine where we stand in our current genre. The darkness is coming, and we can’t wait until you’re able to hear it.”

Throughout the recording process, Novembers Doom will be uploading videos and studio reports to the band’s official YouTube channel. Clips of new material as well as band member updates will be available.