Well folks, we have ourselves a conundrum. The artwork and the name, Noreslaw, not to mention the lyrics and production of ‘serpent in the circling sea’ all scream black metal – which would be all very well and good, except no-one told Norselaw that, and he appears to think he’s in the Ramones. The result is an album that sounds like Venom jamming with the Manic Street Preachers on Darkthrone covers, and if that sounds odd, then you haven’t heard the half of it.
We are, however, getting slightly ahead of ourselves. I first encountered Norselaw, easily the most self-mythologizing rock star since a young man named Brian Warner decided to give himself a more feminine name, on the previous release ‘Moon Hunters’ – a record that showed a great amount of potential amidst the smoking, sulphuric wreck of damaged, blackened riffs but which seemed hell-bent on alienating newcomers with a sound that bordered on the impenetrable. Happily Norselaw has retained his avant-garde production and upped the eclecticism to create an album that will undoubtedly piss off 90% of all those who hear it whilst rapidly becoming an ear-raping favourite amongst the few aficionados mad enough to stick with it.
‘Serpent in the circling sea’ is not, by any means, an easy ride. Discordant, distorted and violent it certainly brings to mind the recorded-in-a-kettle sound of Venom, but then, just to mess with you, Norselaw throws in strangely catchy melodies designed to insinuate their way into the fibre of your being even if they are delivered at breakneck pace by a naked man clutching a vodka bottle and screaming incoherent threats at passers-by (this is purely intuition, by the way, but somehow I think it will prove to be correct) – indeed the record ups the ante on ‘Moon Hunters’ in just about every way possible.
Opening with the title track Norselaw wastes no time in introducing us to his twisted world with a selection of frozen guitar figures carved out in front of the listener before the band (comprising Jaime Lannister on drums and long-standing low-end monster Theon Greyjoy on bass) kick into to what sounds like a black metal track played by long-toothed carnival workers from the depths of a fun house. It sounds entirely wrong (or entirely right depending on how warped your worldview it is) and it will cement straight away whether you like Norselaw or not. It’s brilliantly inventive, darkly psychedelic and entirely off the wall and it is not such a push to say that if Captain Beefheart had grown up in the era of black metal he may well have made music such as this. ‘Wasteland wanderer’ is not unlike Darkthrone’s recent straight up metal tracks (think ‘leave no cross unturned’ and you have the right sort of idea), strangely melodic and recorded with an absolute distaste for modern electronic trickery. It sort of makes sense, and then Norselaw goes all Cliff Burton on us with the stunning bass work of ‘Green laser’ – a cross between ‘Anaesthesia’ and a Dalek attack, it underscores the talent that lies at the heart of Norselaw. it segues neatly into the furious assault of ‘Beyond the dawn’s last radar’ which is the heaviest thing Norselaw has yet put his name to, the churning guitars a chugging, down-tuned wall of sub-industrial noise that mysteriously give way to the sort of chorus more commonly associated with James Dean Bradfield.
No stranger to contrast, Norselaw launches a whole new style of noise with ‘Mirror maze’ which (possibly) is best described as venom jamming with Sonic Youth, Frank Zappa and the Beastie Boys. Did you understand that? No? Us neither… except it not only works, but also sticks in your brain like a rusty fishhook. Damn you Norselaw, you’ve filled my mind with addictive insanity. ‘Return of the wolf’ is a feral, punk-infused blast that breaks down into the sort of weird alternative noise that made up Nirvana’s ‘gallons of rubbing alcohol flow through the strip. ‘Children of the storm’ kicks off with a heavy beat from Jaime and transpires to be a jazzy nightmare of weird guitars and vocals from another song completely. It’s disconcerting to say the least, sounding like ‘Frank Zappa does metal’, but that’s just how Norselaw rolls these days and, in truth, it sounds entirely unlike anything anyone else is doing. The metal is back for the relatively straightforward into to ‘Fungi from Yuggoth’ before things once again take a turn for the bizarre, the song ending up being part Don Van Vliet, part Burzum – we spoke once before of the fearsome potential that Norselaw possessed, here we are starting to see it realised.
Of the final two tracks, ‘servant of the state’ is a full-tilt, adrenalin fuelled monster of sludge-powered guitars and awkward time signatures, written in blood and delivered wrapped around a brick (it also contains the most thrillingly incisive, politically informed, set of lyrics Norselaw has yet penned) whilst the closing five minute marathon of ‘Winterfell’ is a virtuoso marathon which transcends the lo-fi nature of the production with its blistering guitar work and allows the album to finish on a pulse-pounding high.
It seems redundant to point out that this album is not for everyone. It seems likely that for every one deranged soul who loves ‘serpent in the circling sea’, several more will loathe it with every fibre of their being. There is the frosty production (which actually suits the music perfectly, but which stands at odds with the typical, soulless gloss applied to most music these days), the black metal passages which twist into huge slabs of psychedelic beauty and the politicised lyrics – all of which will either draw you in and keep you there, or spit you out and leave you confused and babbling like the victim of a particularly brutal hit and run. For those who loved ‘Moon hunters’ the good news is ‘serpent…’ improves upon that album tenfold. The vocals, my main bone of contention on the last release, now work perfectly. They are still admirably and unflinchingly raw, but delivered with much more confidence and power, whilst the music is insanely inventive (or possibly just insane), drawing upon the strengths of the previous release and developing ideas only half-formed on that record. If you understand the passion that drives creativity and wish to hear a record that is quite unlike anything else you’ll hear this year – a record that harks back to the pioneering spirit of early Bowie, Darkthrone, Beefheart and Burzum – then this is essential listening. If anything written above frightens or confuses you, then stay well clear! Norselaw is back, and if this record is anything to go by, he’s here to stay.
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