A Long, Awkward November
Novembers Doom is a death/doom metal band from Chicago. Formed in 1989 as Laceration, the band changed names to Novembers Doom in the early 1990s. The band has been steadily releasing albums since 1995, despite a rotating cast of musicians. The discography continues with Bled White, the band’s ninth full-length album.
Vocalist Paul Kuhr is the nucleus around which the lineup has revolved. He is the last founding member left standing. So it makes logical sense that Bled White focuses heavily on Kuhr’s vocals and lyrics. Unfortunately, this decision does not make musical sense, as the vocal fixation throws the album’s entire mix out of balance and exposes lyrics that are often awkward, and sometimes downright embarrassing.
Bled White begins well enough, the titular song jumping from the gate with waves of decrepit dissonance. Chugging death metal ensues, building to a lovely chorus that features harmonized vocals, proactive basslines and sweetly decaying guitar melodies. “Bled White” progresses at a leisurely but steady pace through varied passages. Most importantly—as in most quality melodic death metal—there is the sense of a narrative unfolding.
However, as Bled White continues, structural weaknesses in the album’s design begin to show. The songs are long, slow and often repetitive. Choruses repeat seemingly ad nauseam. There is also a progressive rock feeling to the album that feels unrealized due to a lack of musical boldness. There are few, if any, tonal contrasts, time-signature variations or genre-diversions to keep things lively and make the songs unique. Death metal fans take deep pride in their ability to find enjoyment and beauty in harsh, complex soundscapes. On Bled White much of the music seems blandly pleasant and melodic, pre-digested and smooth—active listening just doesn’t seem called for here.
The real rub however, is the vocals and lyrics. The vocals are mixed very high, de-emphasizing the instrumental performances. A prime example of this phenomenon is “Animus,” which rumbles in heavily but loses impact as soon as the awkwardly-close vocals come in. With the showcased vocals come an emphasis on lyrics—lyrics that Kuhr takes pains to enunciate fully. Metal vocals are a chance for archaic language and searing visuals. They are also an occasion for meeting in the middle—fans opening up the liner notes, or getting on the net and discussing what was growled and what it means. On Bled White the lyrics are limpid to the point of being uncomfortable and intrusive. It’s like Kuhr is reciting bad poetry at you while staring seriously into your eyes from a few feet away. For example, from “Heartfelt:” “I can only hope / That hell is real, / Where demons are eating your soul, / The life the pain / I love to hate you, / Beneath the earth is where you rot.” See also “Memory Room:” “There is no key / to open this door / this place is ours / to determine its yield / and it is here / where I cherish your love / for the smile / was all I ever needed.” Passages like these are all over Bled White, and sound even sillier in audio.
In the end, Bled White is an unhappy paradox. Novembers Doom is one of the oldest active death/doom metal bands in the US, and yet their latest work has been rendered amateurish by too-loud vocals, immature lyrics, repetitive song structures and an unjustified 68-minute runtime. The music is smooth and there are some catchy choruses, but there is better music of this variety out there—no one should listen to Bled White without hearing Blackwater Park first. It just feels like Novembers Doom have blundered and made a metal album that punishes close attention—flaws, sprawl, and thin spots are revealed, rather than the intricacies and esoteric musicality that are the hallmarks of death metal. Oh well, maybe next November.
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