Music. Real music, that is, should be presented in a form which accurately represents the depth of passion and commitment that went into it. Therefore, while your average boy band gets nothing more exotic than a heavily airbrushed promotional picture (OK – so the same is true of Rammstein’s debut, but they were making a point) bands who produce music with thought and meaning attached to it package their work accordingly. This is a theory that I’ve tested more than once, buying albums solely based on their covers, and I have yet to be disappointed. Paramnesia, the French atmospheric black metal band, are a case in point – their latest work comes packaged in a beautiful, spot-varnished digi-pack (courtesy of the interestingly named Businessforsatan) which pegs the band visually somewhere between Neurosis and The Ocean. Fortunately the theory of great music comes in great packaging is proved, once again, to be accurate, because Paramnesia’s self-titled effort is a dark, disturbing, sometimes beautiful and often hypnotic piece of work which deserves your attention.
Containing just two pieces, the enigmatically titled ‘IV and ‘V’, the EP opens amidst howling feedback which swells and grows until gentle, echoing guitar appears in the darkness. Recalling hints of ISIS and God is an astronaut, the initial vibe is very much that of epic post metal only for the mood to be rent asunder by a tsunami of cacophonous percussion, harrowing screams and unhinged riffs. The switch in mood is horrifying, as the band no doubt intended, and the fury of the assault is literally stunning. Slowly, as the initial violence subsides, hits of melody appear deep within the track, albeit an Isis-esque beauty that is predicated upon icy, swirling riffs rather than earthen subtlety – that comes later as the band juxtapose more traditional post-metal tropes with huge swathes of devastating black metal, the impact of which never seems to subside, seemingly despite the song’s twenty minute run time. With the harrowing shrieks entirely unintelligible, the music itself evokes a mood of obsidian darkness and with the music raging and burning with singular fury it successfully blocks out the light of even the brightest day.
The pace slows for ‘V’, a more reflective piece of work that opens amidst echoing guitar and jarring, minor-key chords. However, as might be anticipated, such preternatural meditation cannot last long and soon the glacial wind of a thousand guitars is knocking at the door as Paramnesia set about unleashing hell via catastrophically heavy percussion and razor-sharp, light speed guitar which slowly coalesces into a vast wall of noise, at the heart of which an unseen voice shrieks in untold agony. Like its predecessor, ‘v’ is twenty minutes long, but such is the dangerously mesmerising effect of the music that it appears much shorter. The song really comes into its own as it progresses, the rolling thunder of the drums and the slow melding of the guitars into one cogent force proving to be overwhelmingly powerful.
Paramnesia are not for everyone. This is music for the select few who will admire the band’s admirably anti-commercial stance. Those looking for sharp riffs and vast backs of synth should look elsewhere, this is the black metal of Darkthrone and Burzum filtered through the lens of Isis and spat out in a frozen wasteland of the senses, and it should be treated with appropriate respect and care. Most importantly, persevere through the initially forbidding and brutal assault and you’ll be rewarded with music that matches harshness with beauty, each track exploring a range of sounds and textures over their lengthy run times. Don’t let this mesmerising piece of work pass you by – it is challenging, but then great art often is, and this self-titled effort certainly qualifies on that score.
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