Review Summary: Frisson.
The story behind
Hour of the Nightingale is one that welcomes nothing if not sentimentality. The project began as a collaboration between Juha Raivio (Swallow the Sun) and his partner, Aleah Stanbridge, whose only other musical credits include guest vocals on four albums, one with Amorphis (
Under the Red Cloud) and the rest with Raivio’s chief group. Unfortunately, the only release Stanbridge would live to see released under the Trees of Eternity moniker was the
Black Ocean EP from 2013, as she ultimately lost her life to cancer three years hence (she was 39). As a less established individual, it’d be easy to overlook Stanbridge in a time when musicians seem to be dying every other day, but her final, lasting hour only pierces even further when given the time it deservedly asks for.
Over the course of ten tracks we’re subdued by gloomy melodies that evoke a softer shade of doom metal akin to recent Swallow the Sun material. “My Requiem” splendidly opens the album in this vein, allowing the sparse notes to slowly unfold into a standing soundscape that would be serene were it not so woeful. It’s poignantly clear how aware Stanbridge was of her fate when examining the lyrics; “A Million Tears” feels like a love letter for Raivio, remarking how she swallows her words in shame while he never leaves her side, despite her faults. This tone comes to permeate nearly every moment on the album, right down to the barren words of “Black Ocean” to the brief, gentle notes of its visual companion, “Sinking Ships.” Naturally, Stanbridge is at the forefront of this journey and her lost voice rings with warmth in the wake of cold instrumentation, yet individually speaking, she chills the spine with her ghostly deliveries. Hearing Stanbridge weft and weave her voice throughout
Hour of the Nightingale brings two simultaneous images to mind: an angel and a ghost. She’s neither inviting enough to embody the former, nor desolate enough to simply be the latter. Somewhere between the two is where she seemingly resides, and it’s a place that’s just as alluring as it is foreboding.
Furthermore, the music on display throughout
Hour of the Nightingale is minimally constructed, but it’s also riddled with luscious decor, from violins to acoustic guitars and featured vocals(Mick Moss on “Condemned to Silence” and Nick Holmes on “Gallows Bird”), crafting that much more immersion for the listener to become lost in. And immersed one may become, as
Hour of the Nightingale is utterly unyielding in its solemn nature. This is where savoring the album will become highly dependent on the listener’s willingness to endure ongoing passages of sorrow and lamentation, because that is the heart and bloodflow on display here. Thematically speaking, this is the appropriate path to take, especially given how doom metal typically operates. The more wavering fans of doom music will still appreciate this album enough to enjoy it, but the likelihood of longing for more variety will certainly be a factor in their listening. As for the more devout doom metal fans? They’ll willingly let the tide sweep over them.
It’s difficult to evaluate
Hour of the Nightingale from a completely objective standpoint when considering the still-recent news behind it. While the true test of an album’s worth may be how it holds up on its own merits, this album’s merit seems to come from the very circumstances which surround it. Were it not for the looming tragedy on the horizon,
Hour of the Nightingale may have never been birthed--or birthed in the same manner. And for that, one can’t help but appreciate it even further, loving it through whatever faults may exist.
