Review by Felix on February 7, 2021.

Arckanum was run by just one artist. Shamaatae mastered the instrument “everything”. In this comfortable situation, he did not need to discuss his ideas with anybody else. Instead, he just released a remarkable number of albums and then he went back to his cave and switched off the light. But it was a long journey from Fran Marder, the debut, to the final day of Arckanum – and this journey began promising.

Fran Marder deserves the attribute “monolithic”. It creates a dense, homogeneous and opaque atmosphere right from the beginning. Its single songs are important, of course, but the main focus is on the album as a whole. The storm breaks loose after the intro and nothing stops the artist from wallowing in endless, pretty cold guitar lines. The album from 1995 does not show the almost absurd level of total misanthropy and hostility that was captured on Darkthrones’s “Transilvanian Hunger”. But generally speaking, the approach of the here presented songs is not far away from the eight documents of vileness Fenriz and Nocturno Culto offered in 1994. 'Kununger Af Þæn Diupeste Natu', to name but one example, with its restless drums and the bloodthirsty guitar leads builds an easily recognisable connection to the pieces of the Norwegian classic.

Of course, the shaman acting here is close to nature. That is why there is not only the concentrated studio power of electric guitars, but also short interludes with rippling water and similar sounds. But of course, the sound of the album is determined by the guitars, which are – with the exception of 'Bærghet', a pretty strange number with fairly inappropriate melodic female vocals –exclusively performed at a rapid tempo. The rushed-sounding voice of the main protagonist (as well as the female vocals that also appear in 'Trulmælder') and the drums are not neglected, the rest plays no role. By the way, the extraordinary and impressive 'Trulmælder' proves evidence that the integration of a female voice can be a good idea, because here the melodic approach contrasts very well with the menacing wall of sound of the instruments.

The album is not overly atmospheric. The restlessly advancing guitar leads are like a skin of steel and Fran Marder almost sounds mechanized. But it is a well-oiled and effectively working machine I am listening to. Even though 'Bærghet' floats in its own spheres, the machine does not begin to stutter. The song material is simply too strong. No doubt, Fran Marder was a promising debut without lacklustre tunes. An interesting journey had begun. (Final note: the re-release of Debemur Morti displays eleven instead of nine tracks, but don’t expect bonus material. The difference is based on the fact that intro and outro are shown separately.)

Rating: 8 out of 10

Review by Felix on February 7, 2021.

Arckanum was run by just one artist. Shamaatae mastered the instrument “everything”. In this comfortable situation, he did not need to discuss his ideas with anybody else. Instead, he just released a remarkable number of albums and then he went back to his cave and switched off the light. But it was a long journey from Fran Marder, the debut, to the final day of Arckanum – and this journey began promising.

Fran Marder deserves the attribute “monolithic”. It creates a dense, homogeneous and opaque atmosphere right from the beginning. Its single songs are important, of course, but the main focus is on the album as a whole. The storm breaks loose after the intro and nothing stops the artist from wallowing in endless, pretty cold guitar lines. The album from 1995 does not show the almost absurd level of total misanthropy and hostility that was captured on Darkthrones’s “Transilvanian Hunger”. But generally speaking, the approach of the here presented songs is not far away from the eight documents of vileness Fenriz and Nocturno Culto offered in 1994. 'Kununger Af Þæn Diupeste Natu', to name but one example, with its restless drums and the bloodthirsty guitar leads builds an easily recognisable connection to the pieces of the Norwegian classic.

Of course, the shaman acting here is close to nature. That is why there is not only the concentrated studio power of electric guitars, but also short interludes with rippling water and similar sounds. But of course, the sound of the album is determined by the guitars, which are – with the exception of 'Bærghet', a pretty strange number with fairly inappropriate melodic female vocals –exclusively performed at a rapid tempo. The rushed-sounding voice of the main protagonist (as well as the female vocals that also appear in 'Trulmælder') and the drums are not neglected, the rest plays no role. By the way, the extraordinary and impressive 'Trulmælder' proves evidence that the integration of a female voice can be a good idea, because here the melodic approach contrasts very well with the menacing wall of sound of the instruments.

The album is not overly atmospheric. The restlessly advancing guitar leads are like a skin of steel and Fran Marder almost sounds mechanized. But it is a well-oiled and effectively working machine I am listening to. Even though 'Bærghet' floats in its own spheres, the machine does not begin to stutter. The song material is simply too strong. No doubt, Fran Marder was a promising debut without lacklustre tunes. An interesting journey had begun. (Final note: the re-release of Debemur Morti displays eleven instead of nine tracks, but don’t expect bonus material. The difference is based on the fact that intro and outro are shown separately.)

Rating: 8 out of 10

Review by Ryan on August 10, 2014.

Certain artists inflict uncertainty. They exhibit trajectories reaching unto heights of technical, conceptual, or narrative mastery, and inspire a fear of the monstrous and wondrous. At several points on Morbus Chron’s new album Sweven, one is made to shudder from both its audacity and execution. Psychedelic rock? Goth rock? Traditional metal? All of it goes into a confounding death metal blender, programmed by Chris Reifert, Nicke Andersson, and (posthumously) Evil Chuck.

This is not to say that the band’s ambitions are wholly original. In Solitude and Tribulation dabble in similarly fertile waters, and Enslaved spent much of the past decade infusing bits of space rock into black metal. But Morbus Chron adhere to a messier and more ferocious template.

So Sweven doesn't pave an invasive six lane highway so much as it deviates from old and disused dirt trails. For most of the past 20 years, death metal has echoed elements of two different camps: the US brutal death metal and the international prog/tech death metal. Now we have an uncertain though clearly perceptible shift. The traditionalists hue to early ‘90s Swedish death metal, and the avant garde is beginning to forsake the formulas of Opeth, Atheist, Death, and Cynic. Morbus Chron maintain some of the fires of old, and simultaneously alloy a new steel within the forge.

And death metal itself seems at a curious crossroads these days. Morbus Chron are definitely in the camp of technical and progressive death metal bands. Some of these outfits now adhere to dense and un-musical templates (Gorguts) or evoke grandeur and ambition without technical wankery (Edge of Sanity). In the case of Morbus Chron, the proggy elements are both restrained and somber, resembling a death metal version of psychedelic prog on downers. There is a feeling of hypnotic dirge to the proceedings, occasionally accelerating to mid-pace rumble that precludes the doom death tag.

Sweven also has a few nagging imperfections that keep it from being a masterpiece, such as unnecessary piling on of psychedelic jamming or goth rock repetition. However, the overwhelming majority of the music is brilliant and transcendent, being both good and original without either aspect trading for the pretense of the other. The only thing I’m truly left wanting is a release date for next album.

Rating: 9.5 out of 10

Review by Ryan on August 10, 2014.

Certain artists inflict uncertainty. They exhibit trajectories reaching unto heights of technical, conceptual, or narrative mastery, and inspire a fear of the monstrous and wondrous. At several points on Morbus Chron’s new album Sweven, one is made to shudder from both its audacity and execution. Psychedelic rock? Goth rock? Traditional metal? All of it goes into a confounding death metal blender, programmed by Chris Reifert, Nicke Andersson, and (posthumously) Evil Chuck.

This is not to say that the band’s ambitions are wholly original. In Solitude and Tribulation dabble in similarly fertile waters, and Enslaved spent much of the past decade infusing bits of space rock into black metal. But Morbus Chron adhere to a messier and more ferocious template.

So Sweven doesn't pave an invasive six lane highway so much as it deviates from old and disused dirt trails. For most of the past 20 years, death metal has echoed elements of two different camps: the US brutal death metal and the international prog/tech death metal. Now we have an uncertain though clearly perceptible shift. The traditionalists hue to early ‘90s Swedish death metal, and the avant garde is beginning to forsake the formulas of Opeth, Atheist, Death, and Cynic. Morbus Chron maintain some of the fires of old, and simultaneously alloy a new steel within the forge.

And death metal itself seems at a curious crossroads these days. Morbus Chron are definitely in the camp of technical and progressive death metal bands. Some of these outfits now adhere to dense and un-musical templates (Gorguts) or evoke grandeur and ambition without technical wankery (Edge of Sanity). In the case of Morbus Chron, the proggy elements are both restrained and somber, resembling a death metal version of psychedelic prog on downers. There is a feeling of hypnotic dirge to the proceedings, occasionally accelerating to mid-pace rumble that precludes the doom death tag.

Sweven also has a few nagging imperfections that keep it from being a masterpiece, such as unnecessary piling on of psychedelic jamming or goth rock repetition. However, the overwhelming majority of the music is brilliant and transcendent, being both good and original without either aspect trading for the pretense of the other. The only thing I’m truly left wanting is a release date for next album.

Rating: 9.5 out of 10