MORK

Anyone who marveled at MORK's 2024 album "Syv" will have been struck by the amount of unexpected dynamics and stylistic sidesteps that Thomas Eriksen bravely inserted into his art. In particular, closing track "Omme" revealed a hitherto unknown strain of simmering, psychedelic softness that tangentially underpinned the band's ferocious black metal trademarks. The latest creative pinnacle in MORK's steady rise to prominence, "Syv" was not lacking in aggression, but its highs and lows pointed to a new, more nuanced take on Norwegian frostiness. Two years later, "Monolitt" showcases a different approach. As the turbulent riffs and rotten atmospheres of "Under Vekten Av Verden" erupt, it becomes immediately obvious that this is going to be MORK's darkest and most punishing album to date.

Eriksen has always been a solitary force in the studio, performing and overseeing the whole blackened shebang, but "Monolitt" sounds more like the work of a rabid, supremely focused band than any previous effort. Thanks to a monstrous production that imbues them with an unearthly power, these songs explode from the speakers like murderous demons from the pits of Hell. Eriksen's vocals have gained even more spiteful bite, presumably inspired by the material itself: cold but crushing black metal, with the emphasis on "metal," and as ingenious and singular as this kind of underground extremity gets. The exhilaration continues with "Ødelagt", which may be the heaviest MORK song yet. The riffs are harsh and dramatic, the vocals are feral, and yet the song itself is intrinsically progressive and imaginative. Left to his own devices, Eriksen has tapped into a bottomless well of inspiration, albeit one dominated by callous, tremor-inducing riffs. On the pulverizing mid-paced squall of "Ferdamann", he wrings gallons of vitriol from the suffocating swell of guitars and the ritualistic thud of the drums, but still finds room for classy, melodic embellishments that swoop and swirl around the brutish core like evil angels on a mission to corrupt souls. Both catchy and cacophonous, it is an instant classic.

Similarly, "Inn i en annen sfære " weaves some enchanting peripheral melodies into its barrage of discordant, gothic fury. A slow-burning monolith that promises to be a certified showstopper in the live arena, its slick changes of pace are thrilling, and its grimy, adrenalin-fueled momentum is formidable. MORK have long been daring subverters of tradition, and this is the perfect example of how their music reaches beyond the obvious and into lysergic alien realms. This is a subtle revolution, but its enlightened goals are unmistakable.

Every one of these songs harbors some form of radicalism. "Martyr" is a heads-down, black metal blowout with muscular riffs that exhibit a small amount of thrash DNA and malevolent chord changes that grow more sinister with every repeat listen. "Jutul" is even more startling: blistering speed and mournful hooks collide, as Eriksen delivers a commanding, venomous vocal over some truly heroic, subzero riffs. If familiarity has prevented black metal from retaining its unnerving allure in the long term, MORK are at least offering new ways to savor its nefarious aesthetic.

In contrast with the previous album's restrained finale, "Monolitt" ends with a tour-de-force of grim brutality. "Utryddelse" is bursting at the seams with great riffs, and is propelled along by Eriksen's expert drumming, mutating in real time, as ghostly melodic vocals and thick walls of extraneous distortion conspire to emulate the end of the world. If you thought MORK were going soft, think again. Instead, they have just delivered yet another career milestone, and this time Thomas Eriksen is impervious to compromise. "Monolitt" is black metal's individualist ethos rendered in dazzling, monochrome shades, and the rest of the genre needs to up its game to compete.