Review Summary: I'm at peace now...with doors open wide, come find me.
From the moment that I first laid ears upon
Trisagion, I knew that it would be one of the best albums of the 2020s. This is significant because I can count on one hand the number of black metal releases that I’ve enjoyed in my lifetime. This praise might seem overly personal and hyper-specific, but it speaks to a larger point about Ethereal Shroud’s triumphant sophomore LP: what is it about
this specific piece that makes it so relatable, even to skeptics of the genre? I’m not in a position to comment on the broader implications of this record as they relate to this style of music as a whole, but what I
am qualified to do is explain how
Trisagion turned someone with almost zero interest in black metal into a wholehearted believer.
The feeling I get while listening to
Trisagion is unlike anything I’ve experienced through other black metal records. Even Agalloch’s
The Mantle — seemingly forever the genre’s calling card — transports me to a place of bone-chilling isolation, but it doesn’t
move me in a way that feels personally significant or overtly spiritual. By contrast, there’s the end of “Astral Mariner”, when composer Joseph Hawker shrilly laments, “I have found my own place in this maladjusted world we call our home / I hid in the stars, I conjured a world, I made my escape / You cannot hurt me here” and I find myself not only empathizing with his intense level of suffering, but also awe-struck by his ability to reshape that hell into a moment of personal triumph. Those verses are followed up by some of the most intensely cathartic screams I’ve
ever heard, and it feels like Hawker is purging his soul of all the hate, anger, and vitriol that he’s accrued over the course of his entire life. There are no words, just the visceral release of toxic emotions. It’s nigh impossible not to involuntarily ache out of sheer empathy, and that’s a feeling I don’t often get from black metal regardless of how technical or atmospheric the music is.
Highly emotional affairs tend to get messy, but the songwriting and overall attention to detail here is impeccable. Look no further than the opening minutes of “Chasmal Fires”, which features one of the best introductions I’ve heard from any album, regardless of genre. John Kerr’s ominous drum beats echo like distant rumbles of thunder while melodic keys underscore the blackened horizon. Richard Spencer’s viola joins in, swelling with a sad beauty that practically sets the scene for armageddon. A pristine electric guitar riff cracks the sky like a brilliant bolt of lightning, and just as you think it’s all about to go down, the scene cuts to a moment of unsettling silence. Those menacing beats pound… steadily, patiently… like war drums. Hawker inhales sharply, and we’re plunged into a barrage of maniacal drumming and an avalanche of screams. Minutes later, Shannon Greaves provides an angelic reprieve with her stunningly beautiful guest verses. The song’s dominant melody — which initially surfaces during the elegant piano notes of the song’s breathtaking intro — endures many transformations in shape, tone, and intensity, but is always there… almost like a motif. Even sans
Trisagion’s massive emotional component, it’s still a masterclass in songwriting because it consistently engages the listener with its technical prowess and ever-shifting dynamics. It just so happens that with this album, Ethereal Shroud delivers on both fronts.
By definition, a trisagion is a three-part Orthodox hymn of the divine liturgy. Ethereal Shroud’s
Trisagion feels spiritual in its own right, serving not only as a rebuke of the world as we know it, but also as a solemn reflection of the hatred that grows inside us all as a result of our putrid social environment: “I hate that I hate… I am not what I am.” Every word that Hawker pens for
Trisagion feels like a poet’s reflection on the darkest times, and when words fail, the raw passion of his delivery somehow exceeds anything that could be put to paper. I might not be much of a black metal fan, but I know pure, transcendent art when I see or hear it… and Ethereal Shroud’s
Trisagion is exactly it.
