PATRIARKH

Nearly a decade has passed since the release of the much acclaimed first BATUSHKA album, "Litourgiya", and it seems fair to say that nothing since has turned out as expected for the Polish crew. Thanks to an acrimonious battle of wills between founder and composer Krzysztof "Derph" Darbikowski and frontman Bartlomiej Krysiuk, during which they each claimed to have sacked the other from the band, the excitement generated by a stunning debut record swiftly fizzled out. Both parties pursued a forward course under the BATUSHKA banner, with Krysiuk's incarnation securing a deal with Metal Blade and Derph taking a more scenic, underground route. Meanwhile, litigation rumbled on, eventually ending earlier this year when Derph won the legal tussle, and the rights to the BATUSHKA name. Acting swiftly and sensibly, Krysiuk duly redubbed his project PATRIARKH, and "Prorok Ilja" is the first fruits of this freshly turned page. It certainly took a while, but relatively normal service is about to resume. Effectively a follow-up to 2019's "Hospodi" — a spirited effort that sadly never came close to touching the arcane majesty of "Litourgiya" — this is a wholesale reset, and a chance for Krysiuk to establish his own musical identity.

A conceptual piece dedicated to self-proclaimed prophet Eliasz Klimowicz, who led the Orthodox Grzybowska Sect in the Podlasie region of Poland during the 1930s and 1940s, "Prorok Ilja" is no radical departure. The mysterious textural and melodic tropes that made "Litourgiya" so compelling still simmer beneath the surface, but from the ferocious "Wierszalin II" onwards, it is more than apparent that PATRIARKH have bigger ambitions in mind than simply keeping the faithful happy. Unlike "Hospodi", which often sounded ill-focused and in rather too much of a hurry, "Prorok Ilja" is big, shiny and polished: a dramatic and accessible black metal record, with just enough bone-chilling darkness and grim, cinematic flair to keep the underground contingent on board.

After the obligatory scene-setting intro, "Wierszalin II" lays down the PATRIARKH template. There is still room for brutality and high-velocity blasting, but the Poles' songwriting chops have audibly matured in the five years since "Hospodi". In fact, with its furious gait and unmistakable whiff of future set opener, "Wierszalin" is more red herring than clarion call. Thereafter, PATRIARKH delve into more heavily layered and palpably theatrical ideas, bolstered by the sustained and vigorous use of choral vocals and the deft harnessing of arcane folk melodies. "Wierszalin III" and "Wierszalin IV" are lavish and robustly melancholic, primarily played at an elegant mid-pace, and as overwhelmingly grand as can be. PATRIARKH's souls may be black, but these are songs powered by real emotion and a dash of religious fervor. Alternately venomous and victorious, "Wierszalin V" is a master class in black metal songwriting, with recurring guitar and vocal themes that are as haunting as they are hard-edged, and a thick layer of dusty reverb that gives quieter interludes an unsettling, out-of-time quality. In contrast, "Wierszalin VI" is a magical, multi-vocal tour-de-force over a delicate and daring acoustic folk background, replete with curious instrumentation (mandolin, hurdy gurdy and stringed dulcimer are all grist for PATRIARKH's instrumental mill) and the slow-motion, quasi-ambient drift of long-form surreal dreams. As has always been the case with BATUSHKA, it is never explained whether this music is holy or unholy, and much of its magic emanates from that delicious confusion. It ends with two epics, "Wierszalin VII" and "Wierszalin VIII", wherein bursts of screeching nihilism cozy up to imperious, quasi-symphonic indulgence, and the expansive breadth and depth of Krysiuk's refreshed perspective is laid bare.

Freed from their legacy and reborn to worship anew, PATRIARKH are starting from scratch and building a new monument to mystery. So far, they are doing an outstanding job. Praise be.