Review Summary: It's nothing new, but "Every Ocean Reversed" manages to take the well-worn sound of Neurosis and Isis and carve a thick slab of haunting post-metal.
Originality is a funny thing when it comes to art. On the surface, we as consumers tend to want innovation, for bands to push the envelope and forge new paths. When an album comes along that walks along the same road that others have, they're rightfully compared to those others, and regardless of how competent their efforts are, there is a certain disappointment that, rather than inject fresh blood into the sound, they merely replicated it. All of that said, there is an undeniable appeal in a band that tackles a sound and runs it to the end of the rails, doing nothing outside of its borders, but absolutely maximizing it.
Seven Nautical Miles's "Every Ocean Reversed" is almost paint-by-numbers post/sludge. This is NeurISIS worship with no pretense of being anything else, and if you know that sound you know what's gonna be on this: slow riffs, atmospheric sections with plaintive riffing that explode into giant lurches with agonized howling behind it all. The songs trudge along, earning the term "sludge" in the sense that every track feels like a Greek titan attempting to drag his ponderously giant body out of the mire. The "post" term is well earned as well, with the track lengths range between 8 and 12 minutes and a heavy emphasis on actual melody (there are in fact long-stretches of distortion-free guitar playing).
So although there's nothing new on this plate, what is there is very, very good.
From the opener "Crane" onward it's clear that SNM named their band and project well. This isn't music about death in the grisly, visceral sense. There's no hatred on "Every Ocean Reversed". This is the more existential, the shrieks of abandonment in the abyss, drifting off into infinity with nothing but the expanse of sea on all sides. The aforementioned long stretches of clean playing don't feel out of place, rather they feel as logical extensions of the abrasive sections, the breaths taken after one's throat has been torn to shreds howling for rescue. There's a melancholy to EOR not seen in the more blackened sounds of Amenra or Year of No Light, while keeping a significantly more harrowing atmosphere than an Isis or The Ocean.
Likely the biggest hangup for many will be the vocals. They are unwavering in the harsh, tight shriek regardless of the backing music. The first howl that explodes out of "Cranes" could be a turnoff for many as it comes amidst an almost gentle sway of clean guitars with gentle, minimalist drumming (and I've read several reviews which were not a fan for this very reason). The style, however, works perfectly. Vocals are pushed back somewhat in the mix, with a nice amount of reverb to them, sounding less like a vocalist right beside you screaming into a microphone and more like a man deep in a cave.
"Unwavering" is, quite frankly, an apt description for EOR. There are no tempo changes, no surprises thrown, nothing that adds spice or variation. SNM won't break into a rollicking tribal drum beat, and there is very little clean singing. To some, this could be called derided as monotonous. To others, hailed for being uncompromising. Which side of the coin you land on will probably depend on what your opinions are of that first track.
For fans of the post sound, Seven Nautical Miles has a fantastic product to offer. You've heard it before, but you haven't heard it done quite like this.
