(Here is Daniel Barkasi’s review of a new album by the Icelandic black metal band Forsmán that will be released on June 26th via Vesperian through Metal Blade Records worldwide.)
To any black metal connoisseur not living in a cave – if you are, we get it, the aesthetic makes sense – the Icelandic scene is a treasure trove. Yes, that’s an unsurprising statement coming from this fellow, and to be frank, it’s difficult to not indulge. With that said, we’ve always got a critical eye, so there’s no geographical bias – great stuff is just that, and there’s a common thread from much of the music coming from this locale being unmistakingly inimitable.
We won’t provide a dissertation into every aspect of why this scene speaks to me – an idea for the future, perhaps – so let’s get to the subject of Forsmán. If that’s not a familiar name, that’s about to change. Their debut EP Dönsum í logans ljóma was released in 2021, and is a fine entry to show what they’re about – an expressive, immense style of black metal, with sharp melodies woven in and a crafty yet aggressive, forthright attack. As with many acts from this isle, there’s involvement in other notable projects, and it’s a fine list – Múr, Mannveira, Angrenost, Misþyrming, among others, so a high level of pedigree is present.
The real question, of course, is what they do with said tools at their disposal on their new album. Titled Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur – roughly translating via Google to “Burnt Ruins & Flowing Shores” – the answer is as layered as the compositions.
Ringing guitar feedback, brooding synths, and ritualistic drums meet a frantic solo to open “Drottinn fyrirgefur allt” in dramatic fashion, before an explosive wave of guitars and impassioned roars flesh out the song to an unavoidable steamroller – certainly a smidgeon of Naðra adjacency to be heard. Eminent is the tremolo work, scorching and memorable, adding a distinctive personality to proceedings that’ll be a running narrative.
The vocal approach morphs constantly, moving to deeper-seated growls, high-pitched shrieks, and everything one can imagine in between. Key to these transitions is that each movement isn’t done simply because they can – it’s always in service to what works best for the song at that particular moment. A key attribute to intelligent, potent songwriting prowess, which Forsmán possesses in droves. These characteristics continue throughout; the powerful, occasionally melodic but always stinging “Svartir svanir” is a poignant example, boasting limitless energy with a melancholic undertone to accentuate the emotive resonance on display.
A specifically sinister, eerie feel permeates “Andvana” – a track that’s equal parts as punishing as it is atmospheric, sometimes nearing death/black stylings, with stirring, disconcerting lead segments keeping us on our collective toes. There’s an empowering feeling to Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur that could put one in the mindset to attempt blasting through a thick wall of ice. We don’t endorse said activity, but hey, you do you. Point being, the record represents a pulsating, effusive design that invokes a bevy of moods simultaneously.
The center of the album reels in the explosive start to reveal other sides of Forsmán. “Valdníðsla” unearths a primal ethos, choosing a mid-paced, hypnotic direction; just as powerful as the highly aggressive cuts, but taking a diverging avenue to accomplish the collective goal. “Kynjamyndir” amounts to a varied affair, taking its time in spots while diving into tense, hysterical outbursts, providing further contrast to what’s already been given. Think Carpe Noctem and Sinmara at their most disorienting, but unique enough to stand on their own merit. For a quick adrenaline infusion, “Lof mér líf þitt að taka” is a nifty go-to that’s a flurry of dissonant ecstasy to add a dash of spice, as well as a well-placed transmutation leading towards the album’s last phase.
The finishing stretch returns to the dizzying furiousness that started this journey, never quite predictable in where they’re going while always remaining an engaging, potent force. “Hræ hins almáttuga” boasts chunks of unequivocal acrimony, while structurally keeping the listener guessing with hard, satisfyingly disorienting tonal shifts – perhaps comparable to the precarious nature of Shrine of Insanabilis and the overwhelming savagery and restlessness of legends Svartidauði. Just as they entered with fiery rampage, the record’s exit reflects similarly in scale by way of the emphatic “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir” in its menacing, hazy uneasiness.
We also must mention the artwork – the obvious work of the one-and-only Paolo Girardi. His work captures the essence of the music he creates his paintings for, and this of course is no exception, with the image of what seems to be a fortress engulfed in fire and smoke being a striking accompaniment. Additionally, the recording, mixing, and mastering was handled by D.G. of Misþyrming fame, who is quite accomplished in the studio by way of his impressive credits. Forsmán left no detail to chance, and the proof is glaring in the final product.
Iceland continues to churn out acts of a singular quality, making a deliberate choice to lead and not follow, never sticking to any status quo. True to that mantra, Forsmán comes off as assured of their path, embracing the dismal, off-kilter application of their craft, helping them to sound comfortingly familiar, but absolutely their own intoxicating elixir. Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur equates to a colossal black metal album that continues tradition with flair and purpose. What’s the secret, we must ponder. It’s got to be the influence of the enduring puffin. Or maybe I’m descending further into madness? Either way, Forsmán has earned a listen or thirty.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/forsmanband/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/forsmaniceland/