Sleep‘s hazy 1998 sermon Jerusalem instructed listeners to “Drop out of life with bong in hand, follow the smoke toward the riff-filled land.” It’s been a long and quiet journey, but we’ve arrived. Enter the promised land that is Sleep‘s career-spanning opus, The Sciences.
Nobody in metal right now is as qualified as Yob frontman Mike Scheidt to write an album this hypnotically beautiful and deeply peaceful, or this existentially violent with such a breathtaking resolution to serenity. Mainly because Scheidt nearly didn’t live to write the album.
Ghost is destined to be the next big arena rock band. The band is set to headline Wacken Open Air 2018 alongside Judas Priest and has two dates booked later this year for The Forum and Barclays Center. Ghost is also billed highly or headlining Download Paris, Graspop, Resurrection Fest, and Dynamo Metal Festival.
Much like their notoriety, Ghost‘s album sales have also steadily risen. Ghost‘s 2013 album Infestissumam went Gold in Sweden and sold 14,000 copies in its first week in the United States. The album would chart in Sweden, Belgium, Finland, Germany, Norway, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Two years later, Ghost sold 29,000 copies of Meliora in its first week in the United States. Meliora went Platinum in Sweden, charted higher across the board than its predecessor, and also charted in Canada and The Netherlands.
Realm Of Wolves shows a lot of promise with their debut EP Shores Of Nothingness. Within three tracks and 12 minutes, Realm Of Wolves incorporates elements of folky, atmospheric black metal, Galar-esque choral clean vocals, Borknagar inspired melodic passages, and a closing instrumental that wouldn’t be out of place on a Panopticon record.
You’re drowning. It’s a horrifying experience, but in the moments before you lose consciousness, you can’t help but feel a sense of serenity. The infinitely vast blue around you, the faint beams of light always in motion as they reach into the depths – it’s beautiful. You pass out of existence. Then you’re awake, floating in a center of an exceedingly dark subterranean chamber of some sorts. You can hear the sounds of running water coming from some far-off cistern, but otherwise it’s quiet. Swim as you might to the corners, there’s no ledge to rest upon to climb onto. So you wait. You tire and sink to the bottom, only to awaken on the surface of the same water in the same chamber. Even death offers no escape.
This is what the heavy, jazzy deluge of Feast For Water sounds like. This is what it’s like to drown over and over again.