Review Summary: one man's despair is another man's post-metal masterpiece.
As the old saying goes; one man's descent into despair is another man's post-metal masterpiece. At least that's what my grandma used to say, bless her soul. Inter Arma are a metal band from Richmond, VA, who have long since made a name for themselves by defying genre constraints and refusing to pigeonhole themselves as anything other than "the band who defies genre constraints". They seemed to hit a new peak of cohesivity with their kitchen sink blend of influences on 2019's
Sulphur English, but whereas that album's sonic arc had some ebb and flow to it,
New Heaven embarks on a downhill battle with no end to the bleakness in sight.
In a way, I feel lucky that this album was my first exposure to the band, because I had absolutely no idea of the ride I was about to embark on.
New Heaven kicks off with a cluster bomb of dissonant stabs and spiraling harmonies before settling into a full on blackened-death pummel fest that spans the first three tracks. The guitars are sharp like razor wires, the drums of war boom with a threatening aura, everything echoes with a thunderous dark energy thanks to the cavernous production style. I would have liked to hear some extra oomph from the bass in the mix, but I digress. There is no sense of heaviness absent as Paparo growls and shrieks his abstract nihilism like the lone prisoner of a dying world -
"You pluck your harp against the deathless echo of the driving rain, humming a joyless mantra not a single soul can hear".
Fourth track "Endless Grey" is where things start to get weird—gently ushering us to the dark side of the moon with an epic instrumental passage of dueling guitar leads and plodding funeral-esque drums before spitting us out into a cold wave of gothic post punk. In "Gardens in the Dark", Mike swaps out his growls for a baritone bellow as a wave of dismal synths wash against the steady rhythm of the bass and coalesce into cathartic crescendos. It's a stark shift in tone, but one that just feels right, as if we have just watched our protagonist descend through his reflection and into the shadow realm. It's in this realm where Mike pens some of his most heart wrenching lyrical content on the record -
"Were you attempting to calm a storm that wouldn't subside? God damn that suicide, and your garden in the dark".
The next two tracks continue this trend of doom and gloom post punk while seamlessly weaving back in passages of growling, dirgy black metal. "Concrete Cliff" in particular stands out as having the most balance between the two moods of the album, but then we quickly hit the bottom of the elevator shaft, and it opens it's doors to a neo-folk hell. "Forest Service Road Blues" somehow manages to out-misery every other song on the album, and closes out our journey with the most desolate and lonely note it could muster. Mike sings of dwindling mental health and the societal isolation it causes as acoustic guitar, piano, and violin weep in congruence.
"They say they've tried to coax him down a hundred times or more, but he just points to the shovel laying next to the door. They say sometimes you've just gotta let a man dig his own grave." It's the final nail in our coffin. We were born, we witnessed the ugliest parts of humanity, and now we've been laid to rest. Thus the album concludes. I told you it was bleak.
I can see how this type of album flow could be polarizing to veteran fans, especially following the aforementioned peak of cohesivity with
Sulphur English, but
New Heaven is simply a project that cares more of translating it's ideas with clarity than it does with feeling coherent. It has a narrative with a distinct arc that is brief, easy to follow, and offers plenty of replay incentive for those who don't mind feeling like they are listening to Portal, Neurosis and Nick Cave at the same time. That's a win in my books.