Review by Dominik on December 4, 2024.

I'll admit it: reviewing an album from Russia stirs conflicting emotions. Geopolitics has a way of tainting even the purest artistic endeavors. Russia—a country of hidden wonders, eerie landscapes like the Taiga and Tundra, and a culture shaped by extremes—feels overshadowed by the ambitions of an autocratic regime, headed by some stupid imperialistic megalomaniac. That bias seeps into my perception, even though it's entirely unfair to project such turmoil onto an artist like Gloosh, the one-man project from Krasnoyarsk, Siberia.

Black metal has always been a conduit for the rawest of human emotions and landscapes, and Gloosh's Sylvan Coven—the Siberian project's second release—proves to be no exception. George (the sole member) delivers another well-produced slice of extreme metal. Fans of his debut, Timewheel, will find a continuation rather than reinvention. He crafts a musical narrative that reflects the unforgiving beauty of his homeland. The album pays tribute to the melodic black metal tradition, emphasizing atmosphere over outright aggression. Yet, this is no idyllic ode to nature—it is a frostbitten hymn to the desolation of Siberia's dark, claw-like forests, and razor-sharp grasses. The sound here encapsulates the cold vastness of the Taiga and Tundra—a landscape that stretches endlessly once you leave Krasnoyarsk's bustling core. Nature dominates the lyrical themes, but not as a force of beauty; these are dark, oppressive visions of barren woods and pure desolation.

The journey begins with 'Swampsong', an immediate and straightforward opener which wastes no time plunging the listener into the album's austere soundscapes. Clocking in as the shortest track, it's the most accessible—relying on the driving momentum of melodic guitar lines and the frigid rasp of George's vocals. The atmosphere is bleak, evoking the feeling of being lashed by icy winds while being pulled through a Siberian winter on an old carriage, pulled by emaciated horses trudging through endless snowdrifts. Its directness offers little respite before the album moves into more intricate territory.

Sylvan Coven's centerpiece and second standout track, 'Hexenring', is a more complex beast, requiring multiple listens to fully decipher its nuances. After opening with fierce riffs and a sharp tempo, the song shifts gears, slowing into a brooding middle section where dark growls dominate. A female vocal appears in the finale, offering a contrast to the aggression, though its execution feels more fragile than haunting. While the ambition is admirable, this segment lacks the impact to fully match the rest of the track's intensity.

Closing the album is 'Hyakki Yagyō', a track named after the Japanese folklore of night processions of demons. It fittingly mirrors its title's dark mystique. Taking its time to build a haunting atmosphere, the song rewards patience with an explosive midsection, brimming with frenetic energy. The guitars take center stage once again, carving out stark, melodic passages that feel both desolate and cathartic. An ambient fade-out concludes the track, leaving the listener adrift in the icy wilderness.

Sylvan Coven thrives on its ability to immerse the listener in the cold vastness of Siberia. The production strikes a fine balance between rawness and clarity, allowing the guitars to weave their melodic spell while the drums and vocals hold the storm together. What makes the album a rewarding listen is its depth; each spin reveals new details, shifting favorites, and fresh interpretations. Yet, despite its strengths, Sylvan Coven isn't without its challenges. Some may find the formula too familiar or generic, treading the well-worn paths of melodic black metal; and despite the fact that Gloosh manages to conjure a vivid imagery, the album stops short of pushing the boundaries of its genre. Moreover, there's the unavoidable context of its Russian roots—a reality that complicates my personal engagement with the music in light of geopolitical tensions. It is an unavoidable bias—an internal struggle to separate the art from its origins. It's an unfair burden for any artist to bear, yet one that lingers in the back of my mind.

Ultimately, Sylvan Coven earns its place as a commendable entry in the modern black metal archives. It is a salute to Siberia's haunting natural beauty and at the same time a reminder of the genre's enduring power to transform landscapes into soundscapes.

Rating: 7.9 out of 10, because Sylvan Coven is a testament to Gloosh's ability to evoke bleak landscapes and raw emotion. While not revolutionary, it's a memorable journey through the cold and the dark, even if it now carries the weight of more than just its music.