Review Summary: The revival after the collapse.
There’s a surprising cohesion to an album like
Holon: Agnosie. It’s akin to a film where every scene is scattered out of order: angular mathcore riffs, poppy alternative rock, winding progressive metal, synth-laden soundscapes, and classical passages cycle in and out of view, seemingly disorganized yet always coalescing into a discernible whole. The Hirsch Effekt are practically infamous at this point for unabashedly stocking as many elements as possible into their chameleon-like style, deftly navigating this mess of moments with incomparable precision.
Kollaps was a baffling release in that context; it was distressingly linear while giving the impression of a silly, disorganized film that was now too ham-fisted for its own good. Consider the collective’s latest album
Urian a retcon; absolutely
nothing remains from the group’s prior LP, replaced instead by a familiar mess of moments that are somehow cobbled into a cohesive whole. The Hirsch Effekt are unquestionably back to full strength on their sixth full-length, and as the near-hour-long record unravels, one thing becomes clear: they’re f*cking
pissed.
That newfound anger manifests into a direction that, while maintaining traditional Hirsch hallmarks--addicting refrains, Dillinger-esque frantic instrumentation balanced by emotive atmospheric sections, ample classical influence--ushers the band’s sound into a novel arena. Much of this is evident from opener “Agora,” which sees the group delve into folk-like acoustics and string accompaniments. Contrary to prior Hirsch releases, producer Jens Bogren applies a mix that allows clutter to inhabit empty spaces. Plucked guitars reverberate endlessly, generating an echoing ambiance that swirls around arrangements--a feeling enhanced by the tremolo-laden environment of “Otus,” where melodies drift ghost-like through the tune’s various progressions--and when the collective opts to unleash total pandemonium, their compositions become suffocating in their intensity. Stray keys and an eerie cello decorate the background, enhancing the uneasy calm and clashing against the disc’s darker tracks similarly to how Rolo Tomassi incorporate electronics. The result is an unsettling aura in the vein of Follow the White Rabbit’s
Endorphinia, where unforeseen horrors always seem to be lurking nearby.
It’s no exaggeration to state that The Hirsch Effekt proceed to lay down their most fearsome songs to date on top of this foundation. Once “Otus” finalizes its beautiful odyssey, the gloves come off on “2054”--a blistering mathcore titan that wildly charges through innumerable tempo shifts and contorts time signatures on a whim. Bass grooves, once a spellbinding portal into warped dimensions, are now wielded like a warhammer, with cacophonous riffing and an unhinged percussion kit augmenting the visceral assault. Discordant chugs and spiraling guitar passages conquer the scene, causing the tune to become a whirlwind of entrancing dissonance, with the fury reaching an apex in a pummeling breakdown that practically tears the earth in two. The delirium accelerates into the title track, launching through shrieking riffs while the maddening pace of the drumming performance seemingly increases, and it surges once more when the intimidating “Blud” tears through a brief peace. Chilling piano notes and distant orchestral movements enhance the atmosphere while a monstrous vocal performance--a volatile combo of screams, shouts, and polished tenor singing--rises above the destruction. Beyond the aforementioned song’s bombastic refrain, melody is scarce here; an unadulterated rage swallows it up, leaving only a monolithic wall of imposing heaviness.
The contrast between these terrifying eruptions of frenetic instrumentation and gentle, haunting atmospheric ventures allows
Urian to rekindle the band’s knack for album flow. A disorganized-yet-simultaneously-organized film develops; the uncompromising metalcore technicality of “2054” and “Urian” swiftly declines into the delicately reserved strumming of “Stegodon,” pushing vocal hooks to the forefront at the behest of an artfully understated crescendo, and the succeeding “Granica” provides a tranquil respite, deconstructing the group’s sound into graceful instrumental swells that spotlight poignant clean vocals.
Urian is replete with these built-in payoffs, allowing tunes to architect their own progressions while establishing the groundwork for what follows, which additionally preserves a thrilling sense of constant motion. Soothing chords and erratic outbursts coexist, making instances of quiet more profound and the violence that destroys it all the more deadly. It’s an idyllic symbiosis--one The Hirsch Effekt have perfected, and it makes their compositions feel immensely purposeful.
In the wake of
Kollaps and the doubts it introduced,
Urian is a hell of a comeback statement. It’s as gloriously jagged, caustic, and complex as the bulk of the band’s material, and while it certainly retains a sense of familiarity--the collective’s progressive metal bedrock remains their eternal calling card--it’s undeniably fresh in its own foreboding manner. The sheer ruthlessness that can emerge within the record’s unpredictable soundscapes is awe-inspiring and uniquely terrifying, and the inclusion of folk-esque contributions establishes an ethereal, yet ultimately intimidating atmosphere whose cautious timbres disguise a lurking unease. Implementing such profound changes speaks to the vitality of a trio nearing two decades of existence; even with the prime
Holon years in the rearview, The Hirsch Effekt are still inimitable in the realm of all things progressive. When their disheveled, lovingly-haphazard moments start to click, the resulting experience is unforgettable.
