Review Summary: Painting with wide brushstrokes to create a masterpiece.
Modern art has a way of revealing itself to individuals in widely different ways. Picasso's abstractions were panned as nonsense by many until the works were truly understood, and Stravinsky suffered ridicule for years before the cohesion behind his atonal pieces was discovered. Each artist paints with their own brush, writes with their own prose, etc. to create their impressions of the world around them, and it can take time for the stranger arts to become appreciated. But Canadian disso-deathers Mors Verum might not have to wait very long to be seen as one of the greats: with their new LP
Canvas they have placed a beautiful, strange work in the music sphere—and my God, what a masterpiece it is.
In the realm of disso-death, “accessibility” could be taken as a negative. Complexity and challenge lend themselves to eventual catharsis once the music is understood by the listener, so implying something is readily digested might risk watering down the experience. But Mors Verum have found a supremely satisfying balance between accessible and difficult with
Canvas by piecing together influences and adding their own colors to the palette.
Right out of the gate, “Bloodied Teeth” assaults the listener with sharp contrasts of chords and blast beats, priming the pump for a wild ride into twisting melodies and brutality. Strangely enough, the track then gives way to a simpler bass groove and slowly reintroduces the rest of the band with layers of guitar and fuzz, before diving once again into the chaos. This pattern is not meant to be a secret; indeed, “Bloodied Teeth” can be used as a rough blueprint for the other four tracks. But this carefully crafted push-pull of tension and release throughout is what makes the album so effective: Mors Verum know when to hammer hard with dissonance and then retreat into something gentler to give the listener a breath of fresh air (see the back half of the title track for the most extreme example). Other bands may pummel with their complexity over an entire song, but these guys give enough room for the next hit to be just as effective as the first.
Fans of Ad Nauseam will hear clear tributes to the old world dissonance outfit through clashing chords, strange riffs, and a warmer analog guitar tone. The bass—crunchy, thick, and sharp—sounds lifted directly from Chat Pile in the best way possible. Guttural vocals bring to mind disso-death champions Ulcerate, giving the lyrics a deep and powerful edge with the occasional break into a higher scream. Beyond these clear influences, Mors Verum pull from their own bag plenty of solid grooves that allow for headbanging in between the more frantic sections. Altogether it's a swirl of the familiar with the new, painting a wonderful and strange musical world for enjoyment.
There are very few, if not zero, mistakes in this work of art. Each brushstroke feels intentional; each sonic color seems handpicked for maximum effectiveness. Even the choice of size—a succinct thirty minutes—lends itself to a satisfying experience by not overstating its message or outstaying its welcome. It's the kind of encounter that simultaneously satisfies and leaves a craving for more.
All in all, Mors Verum have given maximum effort to their latest offering
Canvas and the work has paid off monumentally. The band has presented a display of intelligent, deep art worthy of the listener's time and contemplation. Considering the length, it's doubtful that
Canvas is their true magnum opus—so it's all the more exciting to wonder how they'll even approach topping this masterwork in the future.
