(Andy Synn digs deep into the foul carcass of the new album by Switzerland’s Icare)
What would you say if I told you that one of the best Black Metal albums of the year so far – or, at least, one of the strongest contenders for that particular accolade – was a forty-three-and-a-half minute, single-track record from a Swiss grind band, based on the poem “Une Charogne” by Charles Baudelaire?
Would you call me a liar? A fraud? Would you think I was insane?
Well, in the grand scheme of things you might not be wrong, but – trust me – I’m telling you the truth this time.
Of course, referring to Icare as “just” a Grindcore band barely scratches the surface of their sound – they had, in essence, already transcended such a simplistic descriptor by the end of their first album, whose unique structure and flow showcased the group’s ongoing sonic evolution practically in real-time – but the general point still stands… sometimes the best things come from unexpected places, and in unexpected forms.
