Review by Felix on October 14, 2025.

How much are we influenced by our subconscious? Scientists certainly know the answer, but an average metalhead like me must speculate. Okay, it must be a pretty relevant factor, because I still shy away at first glance when it comes to a full-length with only a handful of songs. Something in the darkest corner of my brain tells me that a proper album has to offer eight, nine or ten tracks, even though I am usually fully aware of the fact that this is pure nonsense. With respect to black metal, bands like Vietah, Geïst or Graveland have proven impressively that an album with technical dates like "five songs, 45 minutes" can work. And this is exactly what the second output of Shagor does as well.

"Lyksalver" is an antidote to tedium. Its most characteristic features are the vehement liveliness and the dangerous density. The quartet, consisting of three "J", but only one "P", has created coherent tracks which do not fall victim to their own monumental arrangements. This is pretty amazing, because the pieces do not brag about having lots of breaks, tempo changes or something like that. Instead, they have such a solid fundament that they create a robust tension over their running times of eight to ten minutes. Shagor also avoid too many repetitions (what is good) and they do not have a close eye on catchiness (what is ambivalent), but at the end I must say that all five tracks leave an impact. I admit that I was not able to realize the real strengths of the album immediately. Maybe the opener was the problem, because "Afschynsel" (what the hell does this mean? Well, Dominik's review gives the answer) is definitely no bad or mediocre song, but the following three pieces show the true force that lies within Shagor's work from 2025. Strict guitar lines which are definitely not made for compromises and aggressive, screaming vocals are driven by mid- to up-tempo drumming. A constant storm is blowing and an enormous level of intensity acts as an unspoken recommendation to the listener not to switch off.

Of course, a well defined production marks an important component which contributes to determining the degree of intensity. "Lyksalver" can be proud of its voluminous appearance. Everything sounds monolithic. There is no crack, no break and no gap in the mix. This is one of the elements that makes the album to an adventurous listening experience. It is not only the fantastic opening sequence of "Hersielingh" (another word whose meaning was completely mysterious to me, but colleague Dominik remains a reliable source of linguistic peculiarities) which embodies the passion of the band. There are many thrilling parts on this album whose only little weakness are a few clear or nearly soft vocals. Anyway, they do not hurt the big picture that the material paints. Incidentally, the general approach of the Dutch four-piece results in a very dark painting. This is not the wildest or most gruesome black metal ever, but it is definitely absolutely pure blackness. No stylistic elements of any sub genre have found a place on this work and this cements my assumption that I am writing about an album which was written by men of conviction. Consequently, the mild introduction to the closer remains an isolated case.

Honestly speaking, I hope that the human subconscious will never be fully explored. While neuroscientific methods such as imaging techniques provide insights into unconscious brain activity, understanding how it works, its exact role in human consciousness and its interaction with the conscious self is still the subject of intensive research. So be it – a world where everything is easily explainable would be boring. And this is what unknown places, things or topics and black metal have in common: they are fascinating and their effectiveness is hard to explain. Simply cool, that the authentic "Lyksalver" is nothing less than another confirmation of the power and the grandeur of the darkest metal genre.

Rating: 8.4 out of 10

Review by Dominik on May 25, 2025.

When I recently reviewed Walg's latest output, "IV" (which is a great album and worth your time), I indulged in a few light-hearted clichés about our Dutch neighbors. As any proper German would, really. You know — the usual suspects: bikes, caravans, frugality so intense it includes squeezing toothpaste from both ends, etc. But somewhere between sarcastic jabs and humorous digs, I realized something else: the Netherlands might have a reputation for cheese and windmills, but their black metal scene is quietly developing into something rather serious, for which I've developed a kind of reluctant respect.

Let me introduce Shagor to you, another band dismantling the impression that the Netherlands got stuck in the 17th century, live all in windmills, wear clogs and pick tulips before breakfast. I first encountered the band through their debut Sotteklugt, which was solid, but to my bad luck not very memorable. It sat comfortably in the 74–76% zone of my metal rating system—the kind of album you nod at once or even twice, shelve, and then forget it until in a moment of enthusiasm (or early-onset forgetfulness), I ended up buying it again along with their here reviewed new album Lyksalver (If anyone needs a spare copy, just let me know — discount for those who pretend not to judge).

All that annoyance at my early age dementia quickly evaporated when I started listening to Lyksalver on repeat. After a few months of near-daily listens, I'm willing to say this is how melodic black metal should sound. I'm still drawn back to it — not out of duty or review guilt, but because I genuinely enjoy it. The album offers five tracks, each ranging between eight and ten minutes, and somehow manages to be both relentless and engaging without falling into either monotony or unnecessary grandeur. It's sometimes hypnotic, often unyielding, and thankfully not diluted by some ambient filler pretending to be atmosphere. No ominously dripping waterfalls, no forest whisper interludes, no choir of forgotten monks. Just straight, gripping melodic black metal with enough nuance to keep your interest alive.

The opening track, "Afschynsel" (something close to "Abomination"), ironically, is the weakest — not in the sense of being bad, just slightly less impactful than what follows. It's the kind of track that makes sense in the album's structure but won't be on your "most played" list. So, let's move on to where things actually start to take off.

With "Per Nefer" the album finds its voice. Once the song builds momentum, it underlines Shagor's strengths: fast, sharp riffing with just the right amount of melodic undercurrent. It reminded me a bit of Winterfylleth (again…), though this is a rougher, less polished take. And then there are the clean(er) vocals, which appear at times and never feel like window dressing and fortunately without ever turning saccharine. In this track especially, they seem to draw inspiration from German Daupuz with their album "Vom Schwarzen Schmied: Berggesænge", without sounding derivative. The song describes their formula of the album very well. In most parts it's blistering fast, but the band understands exactly when to slow down for a short reprieve, change the vocal pitch and add a haunting melody to keep you hooked throughout. "Foltertogt" ("Torture Expedition", roughly) continues in the same vein. Shagor has this rare ability to write melodic lines that are memorable and shine when it comes to drawing out a theme — stretching a riff just long enough to hook you, then pivoting into something unexpected. It's engaging in a way that never feels forced or overly intellectual. They seem to know instinctively when to move, when to hold, when to strike.

The real gem, though, is "Hersielingh" (which could be loosely translated as "Spiritual Renewal") — ten glorious minutes of emotionally charged black metal that doesn't give you a second to breathe. Writing a ten-minute song that doesn't wear out its welcome is already hard enough. Writing one that actively grips you for its entire length is rare. Especially the first half shows melodic black metal perfection. The opening riff has latched onto my brain like a parasite — it's that catchy, in a very black metal way. Clean vocals bleed through the blackened rasp, we have sections where furious drumming battles with imploring vocals that sound like someone's internal preacher is losing a theological argument with the devil. And exactly this use of different vocal pitches underlines the emotional impact of the song. This back and force in tonality, the switch between high velocity and shorter mid-tempo sections, paired with just enough variety to keep you on the edge of your seat, is a masterclass in composition. On top the reappearance of the initial melody and riff creates a satisfying sense of return.

I hit repeat so many times I started to wonder if the rest of the album even existed. Eventually, though, I reached the closer: "Sluymerval" — which, if you want a poetic translation, might mean something like "Fall into Slumber". A fitting title. After all the sonic aggression, its acoustic intro is… unexpected. Slightly jarring, even. Like someone offering you herbal tea after five rounds of schnapps. Either way, the track quickly returns to the album's true tone: bleak, hypnotic, emotionally rich. A fitting end to a record that, despite its grimness, refuses to be cold or flat.

In summary, from one neighbor to another: The Dutch may still sound like they're politely clearing their throats when they speak, but in black metal, they've found a voice worth listening to. Lyksalver is that rare kind of album: melodic without being weak, aggressive without losing structure, and repetitive without losing your interest. It's precise, passionate, and just unhinged enough to keep you on the edge. I didn't expect it, but I've fallen for it — so yes, while I'll continue making toothpaste jokes at the expense of our western neighbors, I'll also continue buying their albums. (Even twice, apparently.)

Rating: 9.2 out of 10, because anything less would be unfair — and more would mean I have to start pretending I like licorice like the Dutch do.