Agalloch’s much anticipated Marrow of the Spirit releases today, the Portland, Oregon group’s fourth full-length and their first since 2006’s Ashes Against the Grain. This album has topped many metalheads’ lists of most anticipated album of 2010 and has generated an unprecedented amount of buzz in the broader musical world for a dark folk metal album—Marrow of the Spirit was even written up on NPR’s music website, and the traditionally monotone news station had the exclusive broadcast of the album in its entirety. NPR just got a lot, lot cooler.
As if it even needs to be said of an Agalloch release, Marrow of the Spirit is absolutely beautiful and is another masterpiece. Agalloch has always taken their time when putting out albums, going three to four years between releases, and the results are undeniably worth the wait; they are polished, atmospheric, arcing works that are best listened to in their entirety, as each album is an exploration of feeling, nature, and the cosmos. Marrow of the Spirit is such an exploration, but comes across as more mournful and contemplative than Agalloch’s previous releases. Marrow is Agalloch’s heaviest and most brooding album to date, a journey through the dark forests of the Northern Hemisphere to the cold unknown places where man has never nor will ever set foot; Agalloch takes you there in spirit, burrows, and leaves reborn, bearing a strange foreboding but satisfying knowledge. Singer/guitarist/creative force John Haughm has told Stereogum’s Haunting the Chapel that the third song on the album, “The Watcher’s Monolith,” is about an experience of his at the Externsteine rocks in North Rhineland, Germany when he was suffering from a terrible illness; he went to the Externsteine and laid down on the stones in a sepulchre in total darkness while flutes and drums played by traveling musicians the band had met earlier that day were resonating from the outside. He emerged a half hour later and the next day his illness was gone. This sort of healing through nature and contact with the earth’s mysteries are at the core of Marrow of the Spirit—the music is the intermediary between the soul, the earth, and enlightenment.
The album contains just six songs but clocks in at over an hour in total playtime—do the math and you realize there are some long songs on Marrow of the Spirit, even longer if you take into account the fact that the first song, “They Escaped the Weight of Darkness,” is under four minutes. “They Escaped the Weight of Darkness” sets the mood for Marrow, beginning with the sounds of a trickling stream and chirping birds that are soon joined by a cello, played by Jackie Perez Gratz of Grayceon, that plays a mournful and beautiful solo that, at it’s conclusion and after a moment of continued trickling, leads straight into the blasting black metal drums and furious guitars of the second track, “Into the Painted Grey.” The beginning of this song is some of Agalloch’s heaviest material to date, full of rage, sadness, and urgency. The heaviness breaks to allow an ominous guitar to pluck out a melody, which is soon joined by another guitar and then an acoustic, then building drums, before it all stops—then sludgy distorted guitars prelude the same black metal sound from the beginning, before the song turns in an entirely different direction. As you may see by now, attempting to describe the progressions of an Agalloch song is an exercise in futility. It is too beautiful, too complex to put into words.
“The Watcher’s Monolith,” which was released as a single via Stereogum a few weeks back (not for download) is up next, and the song is an infectiously beautiful one. On this track an acoustic intro, mournful solos, grainy guitars, and a hypnotic groove that serves as the song’s crescendo are accompanied by Haughm’s perfect screech. Though almost all Agalloch songs feature flawless pacing, “The Watcher’s Monolith,” seems particularly well constructed. It is also the only song to feature clean vocals on the album, and these in an effect-laden brief interlude; this is a marked departure from previous Agalloch albums where Haughm’s clean, haunting vocals were often an important element of songs and is a reflection of the darker nature of Marrow of the Spirit. “The Watcher’s Monolith” ends with the sound of chirping insects at night accompanied by piano, a soothing ending for the song but one that leaves an air of foreboding.
The epic “Black Lake Nidstång” follows on the heels of “The Watcher’s Monolith” and serves as the album’s climax. At over seventeen minutes in length, the song is a monolithic composition. Beginning with brooding tympani and wailing guitars, “Black Lake Nidstång” is a journey in and of itself, filled with haunting whispers, contemplative instrumentals, and Heaven-sundering screeches, as at 7:23 when Haughm unleashes some of the most anguished cries you will ever hear in music. Following this passage in particular there is some resolution in the journey that is Marrow of the Spirit; some level of cosmic understanding is attained—albeit even if that understanding is that comprehension is impossible—and the album takes a turn in a different direction, one of acceptance and a return to the revels of nature. After some beautiful synthesizer, the song dives into some brutally heavy guitar and drum work that takes the song out with a bang.
“Ghosts of the Midwinter Fires,” along with “The Watcher’s Monolith,” is perhaps the most accessible song on Marrow. It is catchy, contemplative, and filled with beautiful guitars. The guitar work at the beginning of the song is reminiscent of another Portland heavy-hitter, Floater. How on earth does Portland form so many not just great but game changing bands? Though I am being brief with this song, it deserves no less praise than any other on the album—I simply have run out of superlatives.
The album closes with “To Drown,” a sorrowful song that is defined by brooding violin, plucked acoustics, and siren-esque guitars. It is a somber outro for the album, evoking the feeling that all is not well and questions remained unanswered and unknowable. The violin and tympani end to the song is angry, powerful, and damning. This violence, though, is replaced in the last minute with the ebb and flow of the tides, the sound of wind on water and waves bubbling underfoot. This is the end of the journey on Marrow of the Spirit, but it is not the end to the answers that Marrow seeks.
This album is, by any measure, extraordinary. Is it Agalloch’s best? That is hard to say; after listening to each Agalloch album, one tends to think that that album in particular is their greatest—this, I think, is the measure of Agalloch’s greatness. That Marrow of the Spirit is at home in the Agalloch catalogue, either at the top or very close if one had to rank them, is a testament to its excellen
ce. I don’t give numerical ratings for albums, but if I did the rating for Marrow of the Spirit would be perfect.
ce. I don’t give numerical ratings for albums, but if I did the rating for Marrow of the Spirit would be perfect.
For an idea of how the album flows, here are the track lengths:
They Escaped the Weight of Darkness (3:41)
Into the Painted Grey (12:25)
The Watcher’s Monolith (11:46)
Black Lake Nidstång (17:34)
Ghosts of the Midwinter Fires (9:40)
To Drown (10:27)