Year : 2011
Genre : Progressive Rock
Label : Roadrunner Records
Origin : Sweden
Rating : 7.0 / 10
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Opeth's latest material was recorded in the early portion of 2011, which does not at all stop it from sounding like it was recorded during 1969. This isn't necessarily a frightening development, it is more like a result of the group's palpably conscious and rigorous decision to offer a contribution that has a deeply traditional character, one that supremely conservatively refrains from any utilization of recent day wizardry, rejecting the act to crave bitter validation from the suspected grace of being called modernistic, and, as such, somewhat relevant. Opeth's latest is the music of a deeply, even deeeeeeeply depressed Black Sabbath, that momentarily chose to be crushed by its own misery as opposed to be enraged enough about it to summon the energy to do something against it instead. In other words : this record is gloomy like a series of funerals, but also rather honest at that. If you want to see your soul being covered in thick layers of black spirit tart, read on. If you already have that on, then congratulations, please read on anyway.
This record's strongest point is its deeply respectable honesty to simultaneously reveal, address and embrace the seemingly unalloyed disillusionment it chooses as its main theme, and this honesty is strong enough on its own to make the delivery stand proud and solid as your trusty resonator of the pretty much ever-present sadness and relative bitterness that is served to you, all in the spirit of 1969.
The tracks themselves are extremely straightforward arrangements with friendly and accessible character to them, but the stories they have to share will always want to draw a black pattern in you, and their intent to do so is not hidden at all, since all of them are carrying five fucking buckets of black paint and have a paintbrush as a head, so the deal is made very clear right from the beginning. And you know what, there is a whole lot of space to fill in a psyche, so, if your thing is to cultivate a black room in your soul and are looking for furniture, Opeth's latest just served you a rather thick Ikea catalog.
As noted, the album's sound is that of a semi-psychedelic, semi-doomy - thank you, thank you - blend with supremely traditional Woodstock instrumentalization present. The album sounds with a very elegant bite nevertheless, but these teeth leave a print you have some marks on your ass of already. A notable portion of the delivery is devoted to present simplistic, but, in their own regards, no doubt acceptable statements involving solitary acoustic guitar pairing up with a solitary - and stationary - piano. The record has a very limited intent to go intense, but let me tell you this : the Opeth guys can make top of the heat intense music, the "now" is simply does not seem to be the time for them to do that. The glances on the intense side of Opeth you are allowed to catch during the record, are much luscious, in my opinion, than the deep gloom which is the prime character of the release. But, if now Opeth's need was to deliver gloom, then so it shall be, and they should not be criticized for submitting to the intent that had to be expressed, and, as such : satisfied.
Opeth's Heritage has nothing risky, nor nothing weak at all to offer, and there is nothing wrong with that, either. It's just that that you already have heard this music when Ozzy Osbourne declared his paranoid tendencies, only THAT time THIS music was roaring like a T-Rex nearing a nervous breakdown, and now it : weeps. There is nothing wrong with weeping. But the after is always better than the during.
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