(written by Islander)
On June 6th, two days from now, Fiadh Productions will release the third album by Białywilk, the solo atmospheric black metal project of California-based but Polish-born musician Marek Cimochowicz (formerly a member of Vukari). The album’s name is Wniebowstąpienie, which is Polish for Ascension Day. Marek describes it as “a deeply personal record about getting older and finding your place in the universe,” about “aging, and being comfortable in your own skin.” On Wniebowstąpienie he is accompanied by sessions musicians Elijah Debey (drums) and Abel Jara (bass).
We’ve reviewed Białywilk‘s two preceding albums, Próżnia (here) and Zmora (here). They each had their own distinct inspirations and were musically distinct (but uncommonly distinctive) as well. They gave the sense of a very talented artist engaged in exploratory and experimental creative ventures, and so they created a sense of intrigue about what Wniebowstąpienie would bring us.
Now we know, and now you’ll know, because we’re hosting a full stream of the new album today.
In discussing Białywilk‘s two previous albums there was a great temptation to comment on them track-by-track because of variations among the songs. The same temptation rears its wicked head in the case of Wniebowstąpienie too, for the same reason.
The few functioning logic circuits in my brain tell me this is not a great idea, especially because everyone can now listen to all six songs without delay. But other circuits tell me I should say something (okay, a lot of things) as a means of encouraging folks to take the full trip through them — so here goes:
Given the inspiration for this album one might expect a lead-in that’s in some respects meditative, self-reflective, a precursor to a personal journey, but instead “Purpose” is like an explosive detonation, an extravagant reminder of just how much head-bursting, breathtaking power Białywilk is capable of generating.
On this song Marek‘s rhythm-section guests quickly demonstrate their own power, providing pulse-punching and bone-smashing momentum that’s viscerally compulsive. But it’s the white-hot nature of the song’s feverishly vibrating and maniacally writhing riffage, coupled with Marek‘s utterly blistering screams and haunting roars, that even more powerfully seizes attention.
The fretwork is blazing fast, intricate, dissonant and disorienting but dazzling, nova-like in its scale and impact but also distressing. The song does pull back from all that eye-popping extravagance, but when it does so the music seems to become beleaguered, to wail and grieve, but in tones no less piercing and emotionally powerful than before.
My friend DGR is fond of calling some album openers “barriers to entry”, not because they make you quickly give up on an album but because you want to hear the opener again and again before moving on to the second song. “Purpose” is that kind of opener, and listening again comes as much from a desire to better comprehend what just happened as it does a wish to become electrified and brought low again.
That song, standing alone, gets under the skin so fast and so dramatically that it’s probably all the inducement anyone needs to (eventually) keep going through the next five songs. But, on the remote chance some people might still need a shove forward, here are a few thoughts (okay, more than a few) about what lies ahead:
What lies ahead are a lot more rhythmic and melodic hooks (every song has them), and a lot more mood changes, but almost no retreat from intensity, no cosmic ambient interludes, no chance to escape the album’s engulfing allure.
The riffing in “As the Green Lion Devours the Sun“, again delivered in piercing tones, is intriguingly mercurial, curious and yearning, and severely tormented; it rocks and hammers and blasts; it also reinforces the impression you’ll get from everything Białywilk has done that Marek freely breaks through conventional black metal boundaries but without jettisoning its foundations.
“Occam’s Razor” is another blazing extravagance, often near-symphonic in its sweep, versatile in its relentlessly compelling grooves, and morphing in its moods. Like most of this album’s songs, it includes feelings of daunting distress, but also the energy of intense striving, a yearning to break through bleak and forsaken moods, and the fierceness of determination.
“Blight” is in many ways a reflection of its name — daunting and dark, forbidding and fracturing, and often towering in the immensity of its damage and hopelessness. While the vocals are never less than spine-tingling throughout the album, they seem even more frighteningly tortured (and enraged) here, though the deleterious moods of the music, including the whirring whine of the lead guitar behind a massive stomp, may have something to do with that impression.
Emotionally, “Blight” is the album’s low point, but “Volo Ergo Sum” rebounds from it in thrilling fashion, including riffage that sounds exotic and mysterious — but also insidiously sinister, ruefully melancholy, and (once again) intensely yearning. It also becomes panoramic in its scope and jubilant in its feel. It’s matched again by continual changes in the drum and bass patterns.
The title track comes last. Even at the end, “Wniebowstąpienie” includes its fair share of disturbing melodic riffing, even when it’s surging at a breathtaking pace and instrumentally layered in a way that’s senses-consuming. And once again Białywilk flies high and far in the song, surging in splendor as a counterpoint to the song’s more morose embellishments.
To return to where we started, the album is described as “a deeply personal record about getting older and finding your place in the universe,” about “aging, and being comfortable in your own skin.” But the music itself suggests a thinking back about how difficult that must have been, about past defeats and confusion, about loss and anger, as well as bursts of resilience and triumphs. It also suggests, at least to this listener, that the process isn’t over.
But let’s leave these guesses behind, along with all the wordiness, and turn you over to a remarkably immersive and moving album:
Wniebowstąpienie was recorded by Jacob Lee in Fresno, CA, and it was mastered by Will Killingsworth at Dead Air.
Fiadh will release the album on 12″ purple and black marble vinyl in a full-color sleeve with art by Mairead McGuinness, and on a pro-duplicated and printed purple-marble cassette with a full-color j-card in a clear case. Both are available to ship on Friday; the quantities are very limited. For those interested in a digital edition, get that from Białywilk.
PRE-ORDER:
https://fiadh.bandcamp.com/album/wniebowst-pienie
https://bialywilk.bandcamp.com/album/wniebowst-pienie