Review Summary: I face darkness yet feel no evil, for on the throne that was once of flame I find no king.
Polish blasphemer Adam Darski (aka Nergal) is somehow responsible for my new dive into extreme metal after divorcing the genre at the dawn of the new millennium. 'Sculpting the Throne ov Seth' and those that followed had a strong impact on someone who believed metal had been dead for some time. And while this assumption may have solid foundations if you throw a concept such as artistic relevance into the equation, it was mostly due to my detachment and unawareness about what was happening in the heavy metal realm, more specifically in the more underground territory. In that sense, Behemoth was sort of the spark that reignited my interest in the genre and its newborns. The band's 00s era, while not without its detractors, not only influenced a musical generation that had been progressively adopting a more hybrid approach, but also gained a significant legion of followers who swore allegiance to Behemoth's blackened death metal flag. I always felt Nergal & the lads had a weird mainstream ingredient in their (extreme) formula as if they were some kind of black/death Iron Maiden, just waiting to be discovered. Both crowds even behave similarly, possessing a sing along(ish) spirit uncommon in extreme metal legions. An expansionist approach that reached its (commercial) peak in 2014's
The Satanist, which achieved considerable success on both sides of the Atlantic. Its organic nature, more in touch with Nergal's black metal roots, somewhat appeased the opposing faction, showing a renewed artistic direction that provided a safe territory which would be reused, albeit much less effectively, four years later on
I Loved You at Your Darkest. Despite the differences between both and the quality of the latter, the unmistakable scent of decline and its institutionalized aroma began to emerge. A trend unfortunately confirmed on the band's thirteenth satanic chapter,
Opvs Contra Natvram.
Bearing a title that confronts the morality of a cancel culture always ready to judge, condemn and erase,
Opvs Contra Natvram symbolizes Nergal's willingness to go against the tide and its moral currents. A cry of rebellion that has always accompanied Behemoth's narrative, like a humanist foundation supporting the outer, somewhat theatrical, satanic aesthetic. 'Neo-Spartacvs', which evokes the iconic Thracian gladiator, embodies this rebellious spirit, transversal to
Opvs Contra Natvram. Yet this nonconformist concept did not materialize musically to its fullest extent, in the sense that, artistically,
Opvs Contra Natvram is neither challenging nor particularly inspired. On the contrary, it appears exhausted and predictable, lacking ideas. Mirroring a worn-out formula. There is a sense of triviality and deja-vu throughout the album that pulls it down, weakening it. Much like a rusty weight clinging to a body struggling to stay afloat. Good moments like the Shemhamforash-ish 'Disinheritance', 'Malaria Vvlgata', or the furious chorus of 'Thy Becoming Eternal', which embody Behemoth's most frantic side, are somewhat overwhelmed by others heading in the opposite direction, such as the goofy pirate-esque segment in 'The Deathless Sun', or the uninspired 'Once upon a Pale Horse' that carries a middling main riff. 'Neo-Spartacvs' and 'Versvs Christvs' are further examples that are unlikely to feature in a posthumous best of, such as some unremarkable fingerpicking and solos that surface every now and then. Not that
Opvs Contra Natvram is mediocre and devoid of interest (as my rating suggests), it certainly has its moments and technically the band still delivers solid performances, but it doesn't come close to the band's best work. And that, for an act of Behemoth's caliber, is simply not good enough. Not for me.
The above overly dramatic summary somehow expresses my feelings on
Opvs Contra Natvram while disclosing my aforementioned fanboyism towards the band, or, more exactly, towards a particular cycle of their existence. Honestly, given the signs that have been surfacing recently, I can't say the outcome surprises me. The blasphemous flame that once shone brightly no longer possesses the might of former times. It is the inevitable decline of the creative spirit, I guess. And Nergal is certainly no exception to the rule. Behemoth's thirteenth chapter is thus the product of a worn-out formula; institutionalized; eroded by countless battles, be they of professional, political or medical nature. Which leads us to the conclusion that probably
Opvs Contra Natvram couldn't be any other way, and we, as music aficionados, should take it for what it is. For despite its flaws, it still bears traces of a profane, glorious past.
And that one day we (believers) may once again witness the triumphant return of the fire sovereign.
s
