The Top Albums of 2016, by Rhys Williams

One of the trends in 2016 metal was towards angular, spacy death metal that walked the line between “technical” and “murky.” On this first full-length, Quebec’s Chthe’ilist channel the spirit of such oddball death metallers as Demilich but updated through a modern lens. It’s alien and eldritch, but the playing is outstanding, the production strikes the perfect balance between murk and shine, and the vocalist must be praised for singing those occluded lyrics (how does one even pronounce the band name?). In the crawling chaos of sci-fi death, only Blood Incantation did it better in 2016.

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Can we make “ritual metal” a subgenre? Since roughly the early aughts (or, really, since Agalloch), a new breed of metal has lurked along the most occluded corners of the metal world, synthesizing black metal, doom, folk metal, neofolk and dark ambient into a narcotic stew of black-clad veneration of the old gods. For a time this was solely a North American phenomenon (see: Blood of the Black Owl, Celestiial, Falls of Rauros, etc.), but as the decade has progressed European and Asian voices have begun to make themselves heard. In a way, it’s the new black metal: each new culture adds its own distinct take on the ritual blueprint. This year, Russia’s Goatpsalm loomed large over its arcane fellows, weaving a hypnotic tapestry of boreal occultism. Sounds of the vast, lonely taiga intersperse with rhythmic riffing and pulsing drums, with whispered vocals evoking foul deeds performed in damp, mossy places deep in the Siberian wilds. For all those who feel metal can be as sacramental as it is artistic, Downstream is a mandatory experience.

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By rights, Oathbreaker is a band I should not particularly care for. Their aesthetic screams “hipster black metal,” and their previous records were more crust punk than anything else (and I don’t care much for crust). However, Rheia is emotional black metal perfection. It makes me think of Jesu by way of Mutilation Rites: vast and intensely emotional, but in an aggressive way, not a pitiable way. And there’s a heft to the riffs and to Caro Tanghe’s vocals; it’s undeniable that this is METAL, not “post-metal.” Beautiful and savage at the same time, Rheia was a punch to the heart that I never knew I needed.

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Wildernessking have always released quality work, but it is my feeling that this latest record is their magnum opus. In some ways, you could think of Mystical Future as a companion piece to Rheia, but from a different emotional angle. Where Rheia is equal parts rage and sorrow, Mystical Future is awe and passion, the animalistic noises of young men maturing and realizing they are powerful. The riffs buzz, chug and often intertwine: the dual guitars alone make the album worth the price and then some. Shout it from the top of Table Mountain: Wildernessking know where their future leads, and have the might and wisdom to approach it head on.

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Meshuggah is the rare band that created a subgenre and has maintained a singular sound from album to album without following into the “it all sounds the same” trap. Personally, I find their latest offering, The Violent Sleep of Reason, to be among their best work to date. Most of the hype over this album has been that it was recorded live, a rare departure for a band that has often used studio magic to its full potential (see: Catch-33). This in itself is impressive, but more than that, it’s just a fucking excellent Meshuggah album. Everything you want is here: Tomas Haake evokes a malfunctioning clock but the rhythm section always keeps up. The guitar tone is deep and chunky, but not in the super-scooped manner of so many modern djent bands. And Jens, as manic as ever, has not lost any vocal power since 1998. That this band is approaching thirty years in existence makes this accomplishment all the more remarkable. Maybe Meshuggah should be considered in the same breath as Neurosis: prog-metal titans who have never let anything, be it age or attempts to pigeonhole their sound, interfere with producing engaging work that only gets better with time.

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Le rois du Quebecois metal noir retourne, but with far more bombast, melody, and aggression than I’ve ever heard from them. Now, Forteresse are not Oathbreaker or Wildernessking, they’re traditional black metal, but here they have brought the production quality to match the epic nature of their songs. Thrashing, blasting and ripping through forty minutes of truly frosty black metal, Forteresse have built themselves into the mouthpiece for Quebecois metal. Play this album on a cold, windy November night and you can almost hear the fires take shape in the distance. One of the signs of a truly outstanding metal band is its ability to evoke a sense of place through music alone. Forteresse has done this and then some. The bards of the north, here to sing songs of triumph and glorious defeat.

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Navajo Witch is the platonic ideal of a doom metal band: massive, fuzzed out guitar tone, huge Sabbathean riffs, a predilection for Native Americans, witchery and cannabis. It’s the perfect package of stoner doom, and the songs get it right too. They’re long and often run along a foundational riff, but never get boring or lost in their own ponderousness. Navajo Witch combine heft with economy, crafting a singular monolith of stoner doom that points the way to the riff-filled land. I’d drop out of life to this album in a heartbeat.

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