Review by Felix on November 14, 2023.

Slovakia. Eastern Europe. Enchanted landscapes. The origin of Malokarpatan. Take a look at the artwork and you will realize that this band seems to strive for its own niche. And indeed, the three-piece is pretty successful. They mix the sound of Bulldozer's "The Day of Wrath" with the narrative approach of Master's Hammer and do not forget to integrate some elements of oddly designed Darkthrone songs such as "The Wind They Called the Dungeon Shaker". Finally, they are aware of the fact that they need a unique component, namely samples of histrionic film music from Slovakia. Now enjoy the sonic meal that Malokarpatan serve.

Well, this special dinner will not meet everybody's taste. The unorthodox vocalist delivers very different styles, although he prefers the usual shouting. But sometimes he chooses a clean approach and it remains doubtful whether his crooked vocals are always aligned with the music itself. However, there are more bizarre elements that form the trademark of the band. One of these details are surprisingly occurring breaks that open the door for stereotyped "heavy metal hero" solos with braggingly howling guitars. Is this an act of parody? I don't know, but these solo excursions contrast with the dark atmosphere of the songs. The formation keeps a close eye on creating an archaic aura and the entire album appears as a burlesque of insanity. No doubt, "Stridžie dni" reanimates the feelings that I had when I was listening to Master's Hammer's second work, "The Jilemnice Occultist", with its crude story that dealt with spiritualism at the beginning of the 20th century. Malokarpatan are as eccentric as their neighbours from the Czech Republic, because they combine local colour with independent sounds.

The songs do not lack of variation. Sluggish parts alternate with fast sequences, the riffing is neither repetitive nor trite and currish outbursts go hand in hand with less harsh intermezzos. For example, my personal favourite with the extremely concise title "O jedném, čo pijatikou rozum si pomúcil a nakonec v chléve prenocovat musel" starts with obstinate guitars and lead vocals that could originate from Fenriz after having drunk too many high-proof beverages. Anyway, the more or less furious part comes to an end due to a break that gives way to some riffs that do not hesitate to hail the eighties and the beginning of the nineties of the last century. The monumental closer also deserves respect, because its ominous atmosphere, the slightly weird riffing and the lively song pattern create a coherent overall picture. Nevertheless, I have to warn some of you. High fidelity fetishists will not enjoy the album in view of its extremely rumbling production. I am sure that this dense yet blurred recording delivers exactly the sound that the band wanted to have, but it is definitely a love-it-or-hate-it mix. Anyway, thanks to the voluntarily awkward production, even the more or less melodic parts have a raw appeal, maybe also because of the fact that the bass guitar plays a well observable part.

While Death Karma, another very exciting band from Slovakia with a roughly comparable style, explore the worldwide rituals of death, Malokarpatan hold high the banner of absolutely native metal. It is hard to explain why, but I see a somehow spooky fair in a remote Slovakian village in front of my inner eye - and Malokarpatan provide its soundtrack without using folkloric elements excessively. They have penned a passionate album, they follow - despite the slightly confusing overall production - a clear strategy and they are not interested in being everybody's darling. Recent trends and current movements do not influence these guys and that's just one of the reasons why I like this debut. It does not belong to the absolutely outstanding jewels of my collection, but it stands on its own feet and this alone makes it likeable. Generally speaking, if you accept nonconformist sounds, you will probably easily find access to this whimsical full-length.

Rating: 7.9 out of 10

Review by Felix on August 16, 2020.

Sinmara from Iceland is a band that drives me to despair. The dudes always give me the feeling they could have the potential to forge a perfect album, but in reality they do not even come close to perfection. Their unorthodox black metal wants to be more multi-layered, somehow blacker and more meaningful than the music of a “normal” genre combo. Yet at the end of the day, things don’t turn out the way they should. Hvísl Stjarnanna doesn’t change the status quo. It extends the line of outputs that are neither bad nor do they fully reveal the band’s ability to transform its talent into fantastic songs.

Over-ambitious and wayward while spitting on the conventions of a genre that itself spits on “normal” musical conventions, this is the way Sinmara operate. The result is half a dozen marginally overloaded tunes that have their good moments. They grow and they create big black holes, but the focus on the songs themselves vanishes exactly in these holes. Perhaps I should take this album as a sort of black metal opera where the overall atmosphere is crucial. But I am sorry, my old school 80’s mix tape asks for single highlights. Okay, the intensive title track has many positive elements. Its lines are hovering through space and time and invite the listener to take a journey through her or his own mind. What a shame, my mind is a small and dark place where thousands of brain cells are dying each day without having ever really lived before, but I guess I can’t blame Sinmara for this. 'Apparitions' is another good track. The opener kicks off the album with ominous guitar tones and creates a proper whirlwind, in particular at the fast-paced ending.

However, I wish the songs would have clearer contours. Sinmara are like a somewhat confused hiking guide. You trust him, you follow him, but you also see that the route he is taking does not always make sense. For example, this guide does not like to take a shortcut. Dudes from the island in the Atlantic, every now and then it is not forbidden to write a song that does not cross the five minutes mark. Compactness is something the artists are neglecting in an almost painful way. From this follows that the mix of the commanding, deep voice, the opaque guitar lines and the variable drums does not have the desired effect. Okay, even in view of its slightly blurred production, Hvísl Stjarnanna is a good output, but it offers not many moments that take your breath away. Compared to their talent and their skills, Sinmara run the risk of becoming constant underperformer. With the exception of 'Crimson Stars' that occasionally holds some pretty light and inadequate guitars, all songs reach a solid level, but is this really enough for a band with courage, style, instinct and ambitions? Don’t think so. Thus, I feel desperation is coming closer. Will Sinmara be able to manage the (necessary) turnaround in order to advance into the regions of 80+X percent?

Rating: 7.3 out of 10