The brainchild of Thomas Eriksen, Mork is a Norwegian black metal project that has carved out a unique space for itself in a somewhat crowded genre by placing its primary focus on a dark, frozen atmosphere. Uncluttered by compromise, there is a single-mindedness to Mork that makes each new record something special and Monolitt, the project’s eighth album, is no exception. Coldly determined to strip the light from the sky and usher in a grim winter even while the sun continues to bear down remorselessly, Monolitt is another grimy jewel in Eriksen’s dirt-encrusted crown.
Right from the start, when the grimy riffing of Under Vekten Av Verden erupts from the speakers, there’s a sense that a dark fire burns deep within Monolitt. Eriksen’s skill is to make each track sound like the work of a band playing live in the studio and there’s a grim authenticity to the opening track that is captivating. Arguably even better is the frozen wasteland that is Odelaght, a multifaceted work that deftly segues between churning riffs and leaden doom, even throwing in a grim nod to Sabbath’s unimpeachable eponymous track along the way.
Following such an opening is no easy task and Mork seeks refuge in unholy dissonance on Torden. Emerging from a storm cloud, the track finds its atonal riff being relentlessly driven forward by roiling percussive blasts, while a mix of clean and scabrous vocals add to the uncomfortable atmosphere. It’s followed by the equally visceral Skromt, which seeks to find melody in harmonic distortion as the riffs and drums circle one another with fierce intent. And yet, for all that the track revels in black metal tropes, there’s a classic rock sensibility to the core riff that Eriksen unearths at the track’s core, which only serves to make the piece all the more addictive.
That same sense of accessibility carries over into the groove-laden Ferdamann. Still absolutely brutal, it nevertheless packs a riff that could stun a bull and, once again, you find yourself struggling to reconcile the delivery of the piece with the fact that Mork is a project driven by a single person. It’s followed by one of the album’s most pivotal tracks, Inn I En Annen Sfaere. It opens on a moment of unearthly beauty, as iridescent guitar lines echo amidst the darkness. It’s not exactly clean or acoustic, but it does provide an oasis of temporary calm amidst the seething riffs. When it does turn harder, as it surely must, the juxtaposition ensures that the pummelling riffs arrive with incredible force, and it makes for one of the album’s most enigmatic and expansive pieces of music.
No such subtleties are to be found on the savage Martyr, which harks back to the brutal sturm und drang of Dimmu Borgir’s Stormblast, with a touch of Satyricon’s Now Diabolical thrown in for good measure. With a churning low end and a riff that could cut glass, Martyr may remain tethered to extremity, but its grandstanding ambition sees it towering over the competition. I dare anyone to crank this up and not feel the adrenaline surge through their body. Rather less straightforward is Jutul, which offers an obnoxious blast of old-school black metal, only to suddenly transition to enigmatic clean vocals that are as welcome as they are unexpected. This mercurial album closes with Utryddelsen, a rhythmically off-kilter track that appears to exist in some weird, sonic hall of mirrors. Where most bands would seek to leave the listener with something concise and to the point, Mork offer up one of the album’s most adventurous pieces, once again establishing the strong artistic impulse that underpins the band’s work.
There really is something special about Thomas Eriksen’s ability to weave influences together to create albums that are both diverse and devastating. With Monolitt, Mork once again emerges as a strong, authentic voice in the black metal firmament, staying true to the genre’s essential tenets, while allowing new ideas to quietly creep in. The result is a mesmerising album that repays multiple listens if you truly wish to unlock its secrets. 9/10
