Season Of Mist
March 24
Words by Kris Peters
The path to Exul, the fourth long player from Australian extreme progressive metal outfit NE OBLIVISCARIS, was a long and dangerous one.
After finishing tracking drums in March 2020 – the same time the world was locked down due to the pandemic – the band were hit by a host of obstacles, some personal, some due to the state of the world.
It was a period that clean vocalist and violinist Tim Charles conceded “came close to breaking us completely”, but the band persevered and ultimately completed the album that is set to be unleashed on the world on March 10.
Opening with the 12-minute opus Equus, Exul wastes little time getting to know you, with Dan Presland delivering a thunderous drum-fueled intro that is soon offset by guitars and the beautifully eerie sound of the violin courtesy of Charles.
Somehow the violin fits in amongst the more aggressive nature of the electrical instruments before clean vocals ease the tension in an uplifting manner that harsh vocalist Xen soon tires off and does his best to break the serenity.
The contrasting vocal deliveries combined with frenetic double kicks and a softer underscore create an almost theatrical element to the sound as it dips, weaves and soars majestically through a myriad of emotions.
I have to admit to not having listened to much of Ne Obliviscaris previously and find myself questioning why.
I’m normally more of a meat-and-potatoes type rock or metal guy but the layers of sounds and instruments on display here is almost breathtaking.
The pace quickens around the four-minute mark, presumably due to Xen’s continued screams of protest. While the violin continues to promote harmony the drums and guitars seem to have other ideas in a battle between light and dark that threatens to spill over into the visual realm.
Normally I would be getting bored around this point, but I am happy – and somewhat surprised – to find my interest isn’t waning in the slightest.
In fact, I am more than a little intrigued as to where this track will go next, and it doesn’t disappoint.
If the instruments are waging an unseen battle then the vocals are at all out war with each other, quickly switching between cleans and harsh without affecting the balance of the song.
And then it happens.
A beautiful acoustic interlude steps in between the fueding parties and all seems right with the world once more. This might be only one song, but it contains a plethora of emotion and stylistic challenges, all of which are more than capably overcome.
There’s even a cool violin solo – yes, that’s right, a violin solo – that elevates the track beyond the comfortable and straight back into the throes of battle once more.
Powerful stuff.
Benjamin Baret assumes pole position with an engaging guitar solo that sweeps and ebbs with more perfection than the changing tide, before the twin vocal attack resume hostilities and trail off into a dispute destined to be fought and lost on another battlefield.
Part one of the album’s dual centerpiece, Misericorde I – As the Flesh Fails, is up next and jolts to life on the back of Xen’s dominant presence.
The music seems to be left more in the background on this track – at least initially – before it catches up with the vocal apocalypse and rises to the occasion.
A stuttering guitar run lays the foundation as Xen and Charles bounce off each other with reckless abandon. This track seems – so far – to be following more of a set structure than the album opener but is no less eclectic in nature.
Ne Oblivicaris’ use of violin, viola, cello and keyboards should be completely out of place against the sonic background of aggression but instead nestles in seamlessly, creating an underlying sense of foreboding that makes each poignant moment that touch more alluring.
A rapid-fire drum fill around the four-minute mark stirs things up a bit as the music intensifies and becomes more aggressive in nature. It is almost hypnotic in parts until another unexpected breakdown led by the violin adds another dimension completely.
Drums and strings go toe to toe as the track draws to an epic conclusion, obviously slated for a finale in Misericorde II – Anatomy of Quiescence, which is conveniently up next.
It pretty much picks up on strings where the opening salvo left off, inviting you into an ambient world that, for the moment, is untouched by the harshness and ferocity of the outside world.
While it is certainly a chilling musical passage, I also find myself impatiently waiting for hostilities to resume, which Ne Obliviscaris seem in no hurry to provide.
Instead, Baret chimes in with a hauntingly beautiful guitar solo that coerces Presland from the shadows as he lays down the perfect accompanying score.
Suddenly the guitars start to shudder, building momentum, and the strings usher in a sense of urgency as if all hell is about to break loose.
It builds gradually with growing menace before doing exactly the opposite by evening things out a little more until Xen can hold back no more and adds his thoughts to proceedings.
A little monotonous and safe compared to the rest of the album, but I’m still interested so off we go to the next track Suspyre.
This one starts with even more serenity than Misericorde II – Anatomy of Quiescence and I find myself hoping the novelty isn’t starting to wear off.
Ne Obliviscaris must have felt my waning attention and quickly kick things in the place that shall not be mentioned once more with a cavalcade of drums that awaken Xen from his previous slumber. And the rest must have done him good.
He comes out with more rage and intensity that summons Charles into the fray and once more the contrasting vocals restore aggressive harmony to life.
A beautiful violin breakdown briefly threatens to allow light to triumph over dark but Xen quickly dispels that notion as he leads the charge once more into devastation.
Presland joins in for the ride and as the violin starts to shriek in resistance a flamenco-style guitar run offers yet another side to Ne Obliviscaris’ musical psyche.
The band are at their best when allowing the instruments to overlap and sonically compete with each other for attention. It brings a sense of danger to the fold that can’t be harnessed by conventional methods.
Xen lets out an almighty scream of defiance that sends things back into overdrive in a sustained period of intent that defies everything you thought you knew about blending of genres in metal. Strings once more attempt to overthrow the electric instruments in a battle of will where the only victor so far is the listener.
Graal continues the journey with a frenetic and deliberate opening that sees the violin finally declare war on its electric counterparts with a soaring intro passage that introduces a rapid interplay between Xen and Charles.
The two continue their running sonic battle, with opposing tales of conquest coming together musically despite the severity of contrasting techniques.
The battle between drums and violin is a surprisingly entertaining sideshow to Exul, which has many musical battles within battles raging at any given time. It is an aspect of the record that could be explored further with each listen and also one which plays a large part in the overall feel and effect of the album as a whole.
We arrive at the conclusion of this musical journey with Anhedonia, a relatively short track at under four minutes.
It starts with a bleak-sounding piano score that is further accentuated by the soulful cries of anguish from Charles. It’s almost mystic in nature, adding yet another musical interlude to an album already full of sonic gems.
The violin sounds more at ease here, given space by the lack of surrounding instruments as it glides over a stagnant backdrop of measured keys.
It is eerily majestic, a sweeping final chapter befitting of the diverse landscape laid bare before. And then there is silence. And Nothing.
And this is when the time for reflection and chance to fully absorb the entirety of Exul begins…
