Review Summary: Variety through familiarity.
The Great Cold Distance has something of a reputation in Katatonia’s discography. Not only is it a top recommendation for prospecting fans, but its songs frequently bathe the band’s setlists like drops of blood in an expanding pool of water. So much so, that guitarist Anders Nystrom recently mentioned “that there’s been no other album from which we’ve played more songs than
The Great Cold Distance,” when announcing the album’s 10th anniversary edition. This then begs the question: what is it that makes
The Great Cold Distance resonate as much as it does, both for Katatonia and their still-growing fanbase? Previous albums had already sparked hearts and minds aplenty, albeit in a bleak, disheartening manner, so what does
The Great Cold Distance achieve that its predecessors apparently did not? Glancing listeners may contentedly argue that it simply refines select qualities from
Viva Emptiness, ties them together with the band’s core elements, and repressively delivers the results in a tidy-to-a-fault package. But as with any Katatonia album (even the weaker ones), there’s more going on than the lampglow initially reveals.
One of the first items of note is the album’s striking art style, adorning a strict red-on-black color scheme with grim, messily drawn images. The use of black is self-explanatory, considering it’s mainly used as a background and suits Katatonia’s desolate nature. Red, however, draws a distinct level of attention to the album and its overarching themes. Out of the many subjects that red symbolizes amidst various cultures, sacrifice, aggression, heat and danger are among the more consistent with what
The Great Cold Distance explores. The shade of hot red and the “cold distance” of black is reflected in the album’s positively anxiety-ridden soundscape. This particular anxiety can be likened to a proper horror film, the kind that breathes with a pulsating heartbeat during its overtly scary moments, only to still the air with a looming tension when things momentarily settle down. We’re constantly subjected to this treatment throughout the album, often within any given track; be it the nervous vocal passages that break the otherwise blaring “Consternation,” or the brief, violent uprising three minutes into “Follower.” Even with the shifting tones from section to section,
The Great Cold Distance sticks to a mid-tempo pace, barely breaking rhythm for more than a few seconds at a time. Thus, every moment, be it a lull or escalation, feels grounded, as if to repress the music from getting out of hand. It’s a classic case of building atmosphere through contrast, and while Katatonia had certainly toyed with this approach in previous albums,
The Great Cold Distance wields it with a newfound comfort and confidence.
Album titles are another tell-tale sign of things to come, and
The Great Cold Distance is no different, particularly with regards to the recurring theme of distance. While this isn’t a concept album, there’s a definite pull and consistent momentum from track to track. Instrumentally speaking,
The Great Cold Distance rests on the simple end of the spectrum, alternating soft guitar melodies with aggressive (though still palpable) power chords to drive the aforementioned moments of escalation. Though some songs indulge in being heavy ("Increase") while others lean towards a disquieting tranquility ("Follower"), the album rarely lets one dominate for more than a couple minutes at a time. Another consistency is the abstract nature of the lyrics, which Jonas Renkse often sings with either detachment or despair. His more passionate croons are in notably short supply here--one exception being the chorus to “In the White”, further reinforcing an overall sense of impartiality. The specifics of each song aren’t always apparent, which can make some of them feel rather cryptic. And considering the album isn’t fond of throwing musical curveballs, turning to its repressed sound for clues can ultimately lead to no avail. “Consternation” is among the more interesting songs to decipher, and an ideal example of the minimalist lyrics on display:
Wave back at me
Back is turned
If I fail once
Circuit burn
Saw you in the lampglow
You fade
Nothingness incarnate
Until I get there
Hidden
I will be
Some of the more instantly tangible tracks, by comparison, are those involving heartbreak, such as the relatively catchy “My Twin,” along with “In the White,” which seems to end on a surprisingly hopeful note. Since this is a Katatonia album, however, the closing track, “Journey Through Pressure,” is more appropriately depressing with its implications of suicide:
Pushing the will
Being alive
Well I have been
I came far
The process of trying
To act unharmed
It will fade out
The idea of a band sounding comfortable is often likened to sounding safe or lazy, but it can also suggest that said band is in their natural element. Katatonia, for better or for worse, had long felt like travelers navigating a weathered map to reach a destination where they could fully prosper from.
The Great Cold Distance is that destination. By toning the dials back on
Viva Emptiness’ lingering aspects and taking charge with a more defined direction, Katatonia delivered arguably the most consistent album of their career. It’s not a particularly venturous affair, but even the greatest adventurers need time to collect themselves before greeting the new, coming day. Or night.
