I’m on a mission - a mission to debunk the mystique surrounding Dean Blunt. If you cared to read various reviews on 2013’s
The Redeemer, you’d find recurring themes. Writers would scratch their heads, beating around the bush before writing Blunt off as an enigma. Or, they would examine the songs at surface level, declaring them lackadaisical, ad hoc nonsense. Admittedly, it’s been roughly a year and a half since I first heard
The Redeemer, and I finally ‘got’ it, more or less. Dean Blunt rarely advocates strong melodies, or anything typical of a
good song, really. He sings with a trademark deep, off-key mumble you’d be quick to disregard as ho-hum boredom accompanied by various quirky, shambled instrumentals. Despite this first impression, I sympathized with him. I saw redeeming (haha..?) qualities and a man plagued by frustration and regret.
On that note,
Black Metal is a smooth continuation for Dean Blunt. Ever the elusive one, he manages to be cynical, yet impenetrable. Lines like,
“stay out of it, and everything you see/stay out of it, and everything you hear/stay out of it,” from opener “Lush” are defensive, as part of him wishes he could reach out, but self-preservation has him bound. On “Blow” he reaches a destructive high, claiming,
“It is not my fault that I don’t want you helping/so I run away/when I run away, ain’t nobody gonna find me,” in a childlike fashion, possibly disagreeing with every word he utters. The jangly, power-pop instrumentals dominating the first few tracks show contentment, as though Blunt quite frankly doesn’t give a sh
it. While emotionally uneasy, he’s able to go through the motions. Still, even the strongest walls crumble, as evident on “Molly & Aquafina”; the light-hearted, bouncy vibe yields to a somber tone as Blunt sounds defeated, despite insisting,
”I don’t worry ‘bout nothin',” over and over, slumped in the corner. This marks a turning point as the polished instrumentation (well, polished for Dean Blunt) gives way to unpredictable electronics and sampling. As always, you can expect the unexpected - such as saxophones, trumpets, grating beats, and everything in between on “Forever”, a mammoth 12-minute track.
Then, something happens; it’s not entirely evident, but amidst the haze of the album’s midpoint, Blunt makes a choice. The stark opening of “X” marks a tonal change as the album effectively does a 180. Wallowing is for pussies, and Dean Blunt hasn’t gotten anywhere with his usual self-deprecation, right? His demeanour shifts, adopting a stoic defence. The smooth dub has a grimy, urban vibe, and Blunt seems to thrive on his environment - a progression from
Redeemer, in which case Blunt’s surroundings were arguably a detriment. In contrast to its ever-so-slightly optimistic beginning,
Black Metal’s latter half is dreary, as his inner turmoil ultimately leads to dehumanization. Joanne Roberston graces the album, offering Blunt a fragile link to the redemption he previously sought via sympathetic vocals. It’s damning, and I’m happy for it… I couldn’t possibly tell you what that
really means. I suppose it’s one of many examples of bonding through music. That soothing voice reminds me of the helping hand I pushed away on many occasions, mostly due to drug-related stupidity. ... Here I am trying to make sense of his folly, yet he
still manages to make a fool out of me. There’s something special about an artist able to triumph over a listener indirectly. You win this round, Mr. Blunt.
