Review by Dominik on December 28, 2024.

I am sure we can agree that there's no shortage of clichés when it comes to nostalgia: "A trip down memory lane", "Gone but not forgotten", to name just two. But reminiscence is also a dangerous thing. It can turn otherwise rational people into the kind of sentimental saps who believe everything was better back when cereal boxes had toys, and no one knew how to spell "gluten-free". Aphelium Aeternum's debut album, Dark Interstellar Mysteries, wades chest-deep in these waters, delivering what can only be described as the sonic equivalent of a sepia-toned photograph. Each chord, each riff is like a faded image, evoking the past with a wistful, weathered warmth. As if a vintage jukebox plays eternally in a symphonic black metal diner lost to time, their music reverberates with a certain charm of a bygone era.

But let's not get too misty-eyed. The music is undeniably steeped in the past, a love letter to the early days of symphonic black metal when a Casio keyboard and a dream were all you needed to sound "epic". But nostalgia is a double-edged sword, and while Dark Interstellar Mysteries aims to revive the magic of symphonic black metal's earlier experiments, it often stumbles over the weight of its own longing. The production, for starters, is unbalanced—subpar, to be blunt. If Trump were reviewing it on "X", he might say, "It's the worst. Everyone knows it. The worst production. SAD! I will find this sound engineer and send him back to Mexico, family and all. And then my D.O.G.E (Department of Obedient Grinning Entities or was it Department of Ongoing Goofiness Enforcement?) chief (was it E-lawn Musk or Elon Bust?) will down-size all recording studios. GREAT!". The keyboards often dominate in an almost overwhelming manner, drowning out everything else with their aggressive presence. When the tempo picks up, the drums buzz faintly in the background, more akin to the hum of an antique sewing machine on its last legs than the driving force of a proper rhythm section. At times, particularly during slower passages, the keyboards are abruptly "removed from the equation", allowing the other instruments to push into your auditory passage with unexpected intensity. What could have been an exciting shift is instead wrapped in dull and muddy production, taking away much of the potential fun.

We humans are adaptable creatures, capable of getting used to just about anything—whether it's watching other people cook instead of cooking ourselves or dipping fries in ice cream like it's perfectly normal. Eventually, you adjust to the fact that the album is front-loaded. What remains hard to shake, however, is the nagging suspicion, this tiny voice telling me, that parts of the album are blatant copies—or perhaps copies of copies—of something frustratingly familiar. I can't quite place it now, but I'm sure the realization will hit me the moment this review goes live.

Still, the album isn't without its moments. Once you sat through the intro, the title track starts strong with a compelling melody—although the keyboards quickly overshadow the guitars, dragging the listener straight into a dusty attic of musical memories. From a compositional standpoint, the song ticks all the right boxes, blending high velocity with some well-placed tempo shifts. But the production issues make it sometimes hard to appreciate through headphones, where every shift in dynamics feels like a slap to the eardrums.

'Spiritual Journey to the Arcane Cosmos' continues the trend, showcasing the band's ability to craft solid, if somewhat familiar, symphonic black metal. It's maddingly derivative—I'll swear I've heard it before, but still the source of the déjà vu remains elusive. The vocals fit the track well, but though consistent, they lack variety, and the guitars again seem to be clawing for survival under the oppressive weight of the keyboards.

And then we arrive at the 'Event Horizon', an instrumental interlude that splits the album into its stronger and weaker halves. Unfortunately, this is one of those superfluous tracks that feels more like filler than an essential part of the album. See it as a perfect opportunity to grab a snack. The second half rehashes much of what came before, albeit with a little less inspiration. It feels like the reheated leftovers of the album's first half, a microwave meal of recycled riffs and tired arrangements as if the band ran out of fresh ideas.

The exception is 'Into the Timeless Abyss'. Here, especially during the slower parts, the keyboards settle into a more upbeat and balanced role, complementing rather than overwhelming the rest of the band. It's a fleeting glimpse of what Dark Interstellar Mysteries could have been with a sharper focus and better production. Unfortunately, the album ends on a whimper, with a lackluster outro and a pre-closing track that can't decide whether it wants to be an instrumental or a fully realized song.

Yet, for all its flaws, Dark Interstellar Mysteries has a strange charm. It's an album tailor-made for those of us who remember the days when symphonic black metal wasn't just an overproduced arms race of orchestration. There's something endearing about the imperfections, and the obvious love for the genre's roots—even if it's all wrapped in a production quality that makes you wonder if the sound engineer was actively sabotaging the band.

Rating: 77 out of 100, because the music does the job well enough, even if it's bogged down by production issues. Add a three points nostalgia bonus for taking me back to the days when symphonic black metal didn't need seven orchestras and a movie budget.