Review Summary: Gazing inward, yet venturing further beyond.
For the first time in a long time, Svalbard’s mirror is pointing inward. That was a phenomenon that used to be caught only sparingly in their work--the likes of “Throw Your Heart Away” and "Try Not to Die Until You’re Dead” took aim at unseen wounds, not glaring structural issues--but its angle has since shifted;
The Weight of the Mask, true to its title, endeavors to excavate what lies under the facade of apparent contentment. The group’s trademark urgency, almost always intertwined with current-day politics, straps down the individual for examination, not a system. Everything’s gotta go: personal demons, depression, trauma, broken heart shards and decayed dreams--it’s all getting exposed, splattered across pages that formerly housed scathing societal critiques. Against the backdrop of Svalbard’s beautiful melodic leads and blackgaze-esque ambiance, this introspective approach expands the band’s sound and allows their powerful, yet simultaneously graceful post-metalcore to flourish in an achingly relatable manner.
By constructing this more emotional environment, the U.K. collective have emphasized their potent atmosphere--something emblemized by tracks like “How To Swim Down” and “Pillar In The Sand,” both of which primarily focus on restrained crescendos, graceful strumming, and soft textures that seem to cascade like a gentle mist. As a consequence, backing electronics and sampling take a more prominent role in the mix, often converging with the group’s endless supply of melodic riffs in order to both strengthen them and add further depth to arrangements a la
Time Will Die…-era Rolo Tomassi. It contributes to an overarching ethereal aura akin to modern blackgaze acts like Mol, accentuating prose that revolves around personal dramas rather than extrinsic tales, and placing more of a focus upon a complete sonic force--the gorgeous guitar melodies, keys, pounding percussion, reverberating bass, the gang’s consistently energetic dual vocal approach--and how it feels versus being a pure riff fest.
That subtle shift marks a maturation of the already superb
If I Die, Will I Get Better?, and while it fashions an adventure much more reserved and patient, it sacrifices no aggression in the transition. In comparison to its predecessor,
The Weight of the Mask retains much more of a -core vibe; the band endeavors to include more complex motions, heavy chugging, and hard-hitting grooves that harken back to their more violent earlier works. “Eternal Spirits” demonstrates how the group’s metalcore roots cooperate with their modern post-metalcore methodology, using blistering, varied percussion, blackgaze melodies, breakdowns, shimmering keys, and angelic clean vocals to generate overwhelming tension and a soothing release from it. That same intensity is reflected in the succeeding “Defiance,” with blast beats paving the way for arching tremolos and a vicious cycle of tempo shifts. There’s plenty of space for tracks to progress in that manner, with each song frequently embarking upon a profound transformation, ranging from the evolution of “November” from a gothic-like opening into a roaring melodies and a headbanging-worthy groove, to the patient build-up of the aforementioned “How To Swim Down.”
When balancing its lingering volatility and bolstered atmosphere, Svalbard’s latest can reach phenomenal heights, and their striking instrumental climaxes leave ample room for the poignant vocal performance to slide in. The rolling percussion and erupting guitars of opener “Faking It” complement its emotional finale--a despairing admittance to playing pretend throughout daily struggles--and closer “To Wilt Beneath The Weight” leans on a menacing bass rhythm to usher in its conclusion, forming a hefty foundation while a final grasp for optimism is painstakingly relayed through dueling harsh vocals. Brilliance truly shines through in the impactful “Lights Out”: a chaotic black metal-infused assault that relentlessly plows through spiraling riffs, only to suddenly collapse into a shoegaze-inspired clearing that allows the tune to breathe momentarily. Gradually, the band reemerges from that tranquility, layering keys on top of pounding guitars that make every resonating scream sound like an unflinching declaration. Every part, from the robust bass to the piercing screams, is remarkably intertwined, and the sheer cohesion of a given track is impressive to behold.
Turning inward has undoubtedly pushed Svalbard to enhance their songwriting abilities, and in retrospect, it seems an appropriate sequel to their catalog. Though featuring sprinklings of hope and stray optimism, much of
The Weight of the Mask revolves around a palpable sense of exhaustion--from faking happiness, from acting content, from just dully weathering out whatever particular storm descends. It’s a violent, yet stunningly beautiful bending under the pressure that comes from internal and external stress, and when brought to life through two different contributing voices, the emotional payoff feels universal; it’s not heard through only one perspective, but separate views that both know a similar pain. Svalbard’s work has always been relatable, yet that deeply personal connection makes a deeper cut. Powered by some of the best melodic riffs to find in contemporary metal,
The Weight of the Mark stands as Svalbard’s current masterwork, and its straightforward messages are capable of resonating across a wide audience.
