*** Go to our YouTube channel in the link below to see the video review of this record in episode #42 of the SBR Album of the Week.
The post-industrial city of Liverpool has its fair share of contemporary metal artists. Dawn Ray’d and Ninkharsag lead the black metal charge on Merseyside; Conan are the heaviest doom band on the planet; Colpocleisis will be playing their brand of brutal death metal at festivals in Germany and Switzerland over the summer holidays; and Loathe look set to make inroads in the global progressive metalcore scene with their next album. Post-metal quartet, Mairu, formed as recently as 2018 and made their first recording in 2019 with The Sacred Dissonance EP. Now, cult English label, Trepanation Recordings, has the privilege of releasing the group’s debut album, and it does everything possible to enhance the reputation of artist and record company alike.
Mairu create a specific mood over the forty-eight minutes of Sol Cultus, and it’s a mood of grieving contemplation. Dark fifth chords and distorted bass frictions simmer in constant agitation. Inventive drum patterns look for new ways to keep your cerebral mind active, even if you feel bereft of hope and seek comfort in solitude. Opener, ‘Torch Bearer’, is nine minutes of impatience and frustration externalised as an excitable rush of emotions that precede a descent into psychosis. A hostile gale-force wind fades through the speakers in the shadow of a distant ecclesiastical hum at the beginning before a mean doom metal riff changes the dynamics. Ben Davis’ ritualistic tom drum placements keep you on edge. Only the vocals mark it out as post-metal. Three of the four band members take to the microphone on this record, so it’s never easy to establish whose gullet produces the anguished shouting voice. Here, it reverberates like the distant cry of a person sectioned under the mental health act for not taking their meds. They want to be heard but see nothing but blank faces and dispassionate beings ignoring them.
The slow reflective guitars in the intro to ‘Perihelion’ were once the domain of Liverpool innovators, Anathema. In the hands of Mairu, the mournful clean guitar melodies reverberate like pleasant reminders of happier days. Dan Hunt’s bass explorations add to the sensitive reminiscence with finger patterns higher up the fretboard. The band follow this with fuzzy overdrive shapes that bend into metal formations like the wrought iron objects of a blacksmith. One moment, all three instruments merge in combined force; the next might see just one of them remain in a lonely plucking motion. ‘Inter Alia’ allows you to recover from this trauma with one minute of minimalist piano and dreamy saxophone. Who’d have thought that a post-metal record could take you back to the smoky waiting room of a train station platform in Carnforth?
Of course, the atmospheric doom metal rumination of Mairu’s music is what makes them so invigorating. Sometimes, they forget about their surroundings and rip into a ferocious passage of metallic chugging, as evidenced on ‘Wild Darkened Eyes’. The levels of grief match the sonic aggression in perfect harmony. Few bands can marry the two with such ease. Cult of Luna and Still come to mind, but Ben Davis is the key here. He knows when to stop and when to restart at the critical moments with his drumsticks. The reset at the four-minute mark to a slower morass of sludge metal density is a case in point.
Longform compositions are the norm on Sol Cultus, but don’t let that deter you. Every song on this album is a delicate creation from the gut. ‘The Scattering Dust’ accentuates the My Dying Bride doom with no hope of finding a way out of the misery – or so you think. Ethereal guitar melodies add temporary light under the shadow of an hourglass. The dynamics transition from a saunter to a slaughter of the soul when you least expect them. Head-swinging riffs aim to decapitate you with the blunt side of the blade. Mairu never said they would look out for your health. In fact, they have little to say on a verbal basis because the music does the talking. The six minutes and thirty-nine seconds of instrumental post-metal in ‘Atar’ communicate their trauma through the solemn march of funeral drums and a dark wave of distorted power chords. Only when the guitars settle on an agitated down-strumming, can the drums embrace a simple two-beat rhythm. How merciful that you can grieve on your own…
2023 will see the release of many post-metal albums weighed down by claustrophobic atmospherics. Some will be elevated to heights of rage beyond the daily life of their creators. That’s because the music is the conduit that they need to funnel their anger into productive pursuits. Mairu have a considerable way to go before we talk of them in the same sentence as The Ocean or even rock bands like Torche or Unsane. They have a quintessential English death-doom sorrow running through their music rather than the hardcore origins that informed much of the American post-metal scene. More vocals would be welcome. The few outcries of voice that permeate through this record leave scars on your conscience. Is there anything you can do – should do – to help the protagonist of these screams?
If this is only the beginning, imagine what Mairu have in store for their next record. There’s no doubt it will be an emotional burden.
JVB
Verdict
Release Date: 28/07/2023
Record Label: Trepanation Recordings
Standout tracks: Torch Bearer, Wild Darkened Eyes, The Scattering Dust
Suggested Further Listening: Everest Queen – Murmurations (2022), Anathema – The Silent Enigma (1995), Kollaps\e – Phantom Centre (2023)