Oceans of slumber, The banished heart

Oceans of slumber are one of those inexplicably underrated bands, that are so good and intriguing it’s hard to accept they are so little known instead of receiving the appreciation they deserve. After an excellent reboot with Winter and the wonderful Cammie Gilbert, I was all ears for their newest release and I just can’t get enough of this band. 

If Winter was highly eclectic and bold in playing not only with different paces and moods, but also with different genres, The banished heart is a lot more cohesive and less experimental, but still has enough creativity to be fresh and surprising. For the most part, they have a clearer picture of what they want to be and the songs are mostly a mix between doom and death metal. They also gave up the unnecessarily numerous interludes that constantly broke the flow of the record without adding much value to it, and chose to incorporate the cover track (in a very satisfying way, I might add, but more on that later) instead of using it to stun. 

I am very grateful, however, that they didn’t give up their eccentricities entirely, because to me this is one of the qualities of this band, that they don’t fit in a box. They don’t follow patterns, they don’t stifle their imagination and they generally allow themselves to express in whatever way comes naturally. For example, in an era where here it seems like half the LP’s needs to start with an epic soundtracky instrumental, The banished heart opens with a minimalist ominous instrumental that instead of setting high expectations that are easily deflated along the way, leaves room for curiosity and growth. It’s definitely a lot more contained then, say, the Bossa nova interludes in Turpentine and a lot more channeled (maybe because the record deals with a certain string of events in Beverly’s life that require a somewhat sombre approach), but the imaginative transitions and “am I still listening to the same song?” moments are thankfully still there. 

A special mention goes of course, once more, to the amazing Cammie. Ever since hearing her haunting Candlemass cover, she has become one of my favourite female singers. Full of emotion, so soft and sweet at times, and so sensual and ransacking at others, she is superb from the first to the last moment as she pours her soul into singing and brings the music to life in such a way that I can hardly imagine it with anyone other but her. 

As far as individual tracks go, Etiolation and A path to broken stars are heavy, frustrated and pretenseless and although they are definitely solid tunes and have been hailed by reviewers as the strongest couple of the album, I’m partial to the less focused pieces, the ones where they allow themselves to play with arrangements and moods. These two feel a bit repetitive and unimaginative compared to the rest of their work, as does the ending of the No color, no light. One of the main critiques brought to this record is that it’s too long, but the only place I understood where it was coming from was in that ending. An otherwise beautiful dark ballad, where Cammie effortlessly steals the spotlight from the talented Tom Englund, No color, no light is only brought down by the neverending repetition of the “I am calling” sequence. 

It shouldn’t be surprising to find out that in my eyes, the strength of the album lies in tracks such as At dawn and Howl of the Rougarou. At dawn starts off very doomy and then suddenly explodes into a rage of grunts and fast paced drums and on a first glance, the song is bits and pieces, but somehow the transitions don’t seem inappropriate (even when they are abrupt) and as a whole it’s an excellent track that carries you through a turmoil of conflicting emotions. Even more surprising is Howl of the Rougarou, which starts off as a lovely acoustic song, carried by Cammie’s vocalisations, and then suddenly and entirely unexpectedly… things happen. I’m not sure exactly how to describe it, because by the time I have gathered my thoughts to say what I’m listening to and how I feel about it, they’ve already moved on to something else and that happens at least 3-4 times along the course of a measly 5 minute track. Suffice to say I love it!

Another favourite of mine is the title track, a touching ballad about the feelings Beverly experienced after the birth of his daughter. It’s a story beautifully put into music, with that life-changing moment turning the dark minimalist beginning into joy and sweetness and finally into a powerful determined declaration of eternal love and devotion. It all feels so honest and pure and it simultaneously puts a smile on my face and brings tears in my eyes.

It could be said that it’s the only truly shining spot of an otherwise dark album, that deals mostly with disappointment and resentment and oozes fury and disgust at almost every corner. Even the peaceful conclusion in the form of Wayfaring stranger has bittersweet undertones. The band hasn’t defined itself as religious and has left the meaning open to each listener (and most likely even to each member of the band), but they have hinted that “home” might not necessarily be on earth and could mean finding that long searched peace only in the afterlife. In any way, it’s a a befitting ending to this story that started with anger, rejection, misguided blame-placing and the search for unconditional love and approval and it ends with peace and acceptance. 

And so is reached the trifecta of excellent music: intriguing and innovative compositions, twirling emotions that you can live along with the artists and a talented charismatic vocalist to tie them together. Oceans of slumber have them all and have once more put out an excellent release that feeds both the brain and the soul.