Deft

San Francisco’s Deafheaven have spent the last several years marching at the vanguard of the new gradient, blending the textures of black metal, shoegaze, post metal and ambient in an imaginative, ear-opening way. The band’s distinctly American approach to the black metal form, along with their popularity, has given the Kvlt Police plenty of occasion to grimace through their corpse paint. However, for the rest of us, Roads to Judah and Sunbather – with their ameliorating measures of ineffable warmth, towering, sonorous melodies and dreamy ambience pushing back against black metal’s traditional bleakness – represent an important trailhead for those who may eventually journey Under a Funeral Moon, through Battles in the North, to bask, with delight, In the Nightside Eclipse.

Deafheaven’s sound has always teetered on the balancing point between stretches of open-armed consonance and torrents of ominous fury. Thus far the results have been sterling, with Demo and Roads to Judah laying a superb stylistic foundation, and Sunbather honing the band’s inimitable sound to an acuity that left both critics and fans reeling in stunned appreciation.

Needless to say, expectations for latest full-length New Bermuda are quite high. Deafheaven are in the odd position of appealing to disparate groups – from graduate students who take their coffee with raw milk and National Public Radio to scuzzy, patch-vested dudes sloshing their tallboys in the pit. Roads to Judah won effusive acclaim from hip, highbrow publications like the aforementioned NPR, Pitchfork and The A.V. Club, while somehow also netting an 80% average (at press time) from the reactionaries over at Encyclopedia Metallum.

New Bermuda finds Deafheaven neither sticking closely to previous formulas nor seeking to radically reinvent themselves. The band operate a two-pronged operation, experimenting within their own sound by synthesizing established ingredients into new and novel arrangements, while also assimilating some new genre signifiers into their milieu – with moderate success.

Opener “Brought to the Water” is a bracing reminder of why Deafheaven are so ballyhooed in the first place. Scary noises and pealing church bells give way to dread-soaked guitar chords and a frenetically blasting drumbeat, courtesy of Daniel Tracy. But what’s this? The usual black metal tremolo has been supplanted with a galloping strum pattern, more death or thrash than anything else, and a sign of things to come. Vocalist George Clarke is as wild-eyed as ever, his acid snarl landing somewhere between his black metal intonation from Judah and his full-throated scream from Sunbather. The song’s towering heavy metal structures dissolve about mid-way through, making room for a section of dyed-in-the-wool post rock and a delicate guitar melody. The band then surround that delicate melody with motion and energy, making for an exquisite denouement. The song’s fading (into a dead ringer for “Irresistible” from Sunbather) leaves settling in its wake a soft trail of longing for the beautiful behemoth just barreled past.

It seems that guitarist Kerry McCoy and company chose “Luna” to house New Bermuda’s most dynamic songwriting. Sudden swerves and surprises, which won’t be ruined here, provide thrilling, indelible signposts for the listener. Early sections find Deafheaven in full flight – McCoy, Shiv Mehra and Stephen Clark shredding, Tracy blasting, Clarke screeching – the whole band sweeping low over the bay with a sense of sheer kineticism, one that joyfully recalls the middle section of Sunbather’s title track.

New Bermuda is not flawless however. The hallmarks of death and thrash that find their way into the songs feel borrowed, and are written and executed in such an elementary way that they do justice neither to their inspirations, nor the sections they are meant to enhance. Yes, the light touches in “Water” and “Luna” integrate almost seamlessly, but the deathy middle section of “Come Back” is generic. The long, exceedingly basic chugga-chugga-chugga that closes out “Baby Blue” feels almost like parody. There is nothing wrong with simplicity, but McCoy and co. have essentially ignored over 30 years of thrash and death metal innovation. When Deafheaven manipulate black metal, shoegaze and ambient, they do so as licensed practitioners, and cutting-edge innovators. When they borrow from death and thrash, they fail to make the tonal and rhythmic commitments necessary to be convincing, let alone dynamic. The shoegaze and black metal elements are modern, smooth, amazingly blended. The thrashy parts sound like excited teenage homages to Master of Puppets. However, this is not to say that these new wrinkles and their accompanying growing pains aren’t welcome. Deafheaven’s sound is a stew that grows heartier by the album, and the new ingredients are a welcome sign that the band’s ambitions have not been dulled by the comforts of acclaim.

Despite persistent media attention, kvlt denunciations, lofty expectations and the astronomical cost of living in San Francisco, Deafheaven have found a way to focus on the business of creating rich, dramatic and impressively novel new sounds. New Bermuda is a diverse album, executed with confidence, expertise and above all, vision. Unexpected textures abound, from new ambience (with a few careful touches, a warning to motorists about bridge lane closures takes on new poignancy) to thrashy guitar-work, to country-western desolation, to the juxtaposition of maniac screaming and tense, sympathetic rock that drives “Gifts for the Earth.” Each release from Deafheaven so far has represented a refinement and a step forward, not just for the band, but for the hybrid genre they exemplify. New Bermuda is no exception, and hopefully heralds even greater things to come.