(Andy Synn prepares to burn it all down again with the new album from Black Metal anarchists Trespasser)
Despite what you might think, I don’t necessarily have to agree with a band’s beliefs in order to enjoy and appreciate their music (the sheer number of Christian, Satanic, or otherwise religious bands I’ve written about and recommended over the years is testament to that).
Don’t get me wrong, there are certain ideologies, etc, I choose not to engage with or support – and that is very much my personal line to draw – but, for the most part, there’s just something about a band who truly believes in what they’re singing/screaming about which makes them far more engaging to me.
And, make no mistake about it, Swedish anarcho-philosophers Trespasser have never been afraid to wear their beliefs and ideals right out on their sleeves.
If this is your first encounter with Trespasser and you’re looking for a short, snappy synopsis of what to expect from הִי אוֹר (“Let There Be Light“), then imagine a version of Marduk less interested in building Panzer tanks and calling in air strikes and more into burning down banks and organising labour strikes instead.
Of course, there’s more to the band than that simple description may imply… in fact one of the most interesting things about Trespasser – in addition to their unapologetic embrace of anarchist philosophy (particularly that of Ukrainian anarchist Nestor Makhno) and their provocative reappropriation of religious imagery to serve their own purposes – is their willingness to subtly defy convention in order to provoke a real, raw reaction from the listener, even as they remain true to the rebellious spirit of Black Metal… but it remains a useful comparison all the same, especially when it comes to the explosive, blast-driven fury of tracks like “Prepare a Way” and “White Water”.
That being said, as utterly and unapologetically (yet not, as you’re about to learn, unrelentingly) punishing as so many of these songs are – “To the Congregations” is a guitar-heavy monstrosity, for example, while “A Duty and an Honour” is all about rolling, unstoppable momentum (tinged with an aura of brooding, sombre melody) – it’s often these deviations from the norm (such as the moody, almost Panopticon-esque mid-section of the aforementioned “To the Congregations”) which provide some of the album’s biggest chills and thrills.
The gritty, blackened folk-chant of “Strong Wind Blows”, for example, owes more to Tom Waits than Tom G. Warrior (although the epic extremity of its final minutes, piercing trumpets and all, is pure, unadulterated Emperor worship), while the eerie children’s choir that introduces (and then reappears throughout) “With Fear and Great Joy” adds an intriguingly unsettling edge to what is already one of the album’s stand-out songs (with its riveting chorus refrain of “Let there be light!” in particular giving it an irresistibly anthemic aspect).
Clearly conceived as a companion piece to 2023’s ἈΠΟΚΆΛΥΨΙΣ, there’s never a moment where יְהִי אוֹר doesn’t feel like it’s in direct dialogue with its predecessor, that’s for sure.
But whereas ἈΠΟΚΆΛΥΨΙΣ (which you can, and should, read more about here) was all about the ending of an age, the collapse of the modern world and the systems which hold it together (and, in doing so, hold us down), יְהִי אוֹר is more focussed on what comes next… the creation of something new, something better, from the ashes of the old… and all those who have fought, and are currently fighting, to make this a reality.
True, at just under 32 minutes in length there’s an argument that – even after the absolutelt crushing closing statement of “The Abomination of Desolation” (a song dedicated to the Kurdish resistance movement in northern Syria) – יְהִי אוֹר ultimately feels a little unfinished… but, then, the work of the revolution is never finished either!