Burzum - Belus

It’s been 14 years since Burzum (aka Varg Vikernes) released Filosofem, his most enduring record, and one that helped launch a worldwide fascination with Norwegian black metal. The release of Belus (Byelobog, 2010), his first album since his prison sentence for the murder of Euronymous, was big news. No one seemed surer of that than the man himself, assuredly gracing the press with the opportunity to speak with him. The response so far seems to be a resounding meh.

Here’s the problem: Vikernes created a monster in the mid-’90s, and his spawn deepened the game while he was away. Black metal evolved and mutated. Bands grew, experimented, and kept it aesthetically alive in the past decade and a half. The production and performances here suggest that Burzum is fixed in amber, perhaps a year or two after Filosofem, with nothing ventured and nothing gained. It has no hope of relevance in the current landscape.

That’s not to say there’s nothing to like about Belus. “Kaimadalthas’ Nedstigning” and “Morgenroede” have masterful, memorable riffs. Unfortunately, too many other elements inhibit its momentum. Several tracks wear out their welcome by repeating riffs ad nauseam. This can be hypnotic, but more often than not, it becomes boring. Some spoken verses, effectively creepy on Filosofem, almost made me chuckle. Previously, those passages sounded sincerely demented; now they just sound spoken. In general, the production has a demo-like aesthetic These songs feel neither fully explored nor performed with any immediacy or passion. This album sounds like it was written in Vikernes’ head years ago, and he’s simply been waiting all this time to realize it. In that time, it seems he’s lost the emotional vector of his idea.

I’m surprised that Vikernes didn’t consider the growth of the genre before presenting this record. How did he think it would compete against the energy of Nachtmystium, the bloodlust of Mayhem, or the harmonic complexity of Xasthur? Belus plays like the last 15 years of black metal never happened. Of course, Burzum’s music has always been insular; that is part of its charm. Filosofem has a me-against-the-world, fist-pumping quality that transcends the xenophobic bog of Vikernes’ beliefs. It achieves the greatest goal of art, to make the intensely personal into something universal. Belus, on the other hand, is the sound of the intensely personal grown dim and unreflective. Listening to this album is indeed like talking with someone just released from prison. Their reference points and way of being are still frozen in the moment before they were locked up.

eMusic (MP3)
Plastic Head (CD)
Amazon (CD, 2LP, MP3)