Review by Dominik on January 5, 2025.

On the one hand complexity supports the storytelling aspect of black metal, helping to convey its often mythic or even philosophical themes. In such a case it is the friend of black metal's narratives, providing a tapestry for its epic tales. On the other hand overly complex compositions can detract from the raw, primal essence that defines the genre's roots. Then complexity becomes the enemy of black metal's unpolished, unfiltered expression, diluting its visceral power.

On Litany Of Iah, the French Obsidyen's last album, the band tries to combine the best of both worlds. The result is a maze of intricate storytelling, relentless sonic ferocity, and a few moments where even the listener feels like an ancient astronaut, hopelessly lost in the vastness of space. It is an album that is both demanding and rewarding, but before diving into the music, be sure you have the mental energy and focus required—this is no easy listen and certainly not meant for background music.

Lyrically, Obsidyen obviously found their inspiration in the eccentric theories of nutcase Erich von Däniken. He is the Swiss author of several pseudoscientific books about possible or even probable extraterrestrial influences on early human culture, and one of the main figures popularizing the ancient astronaut hypothesis. Whether you dismiss his ideas as pseudoscience or enjoy them as entertaining speculation, the band successfully captures the essence of his main theories and transports them into a style of music perfectly suited for such cosmic themes: complex black metal.

'An Ancient Age' begins with an oriental melody, which evokes the mystique of ancient Egypt. It's a subtle nod to Däniken's claim that the pyramids were constructed with the help of "higher technological knowledge". While listening, you may have visions of sun-scorched deserts and alien crafts disguised as obelisks. But don't let the folkloric elements lull you into a false sense of comfort. This is still black metal. Just as you are still contemplating whether the big rock in your garden could be the missing tip of Sphinx's nose, the delicate melodies are torn apart by ferocious blast beats, crushing guitars, and vocals that sound like a wild boar. However, the moment you think you've understood the song's direction, the band veers off into unexpected terrain. It's a constant push and pull, forcing you to stay engaged or risk losing the thread entirely.

Generally, the music on Litany Of Iah is a balancing act. Obsidyen walks a fine line between atmospheric grandeur and unrelenting aggression. The whole album is an intricate, dynamic, and chaotic affair, demanding complete attention. It's not music you put on while folding laundry unless you want to accidentally summon an intergalactic deity. Tracks like 'The Passenger Of Nout' take their time to build an otherworldly atmosphere, echoing the eternal dimensions of the universe and the enigmatic beings Däniken claims to have shaped humanity. The band's ability to create this vast sonic expanse is impressive, and at the same time they never fully abandon the ferocity of their black metal foundation. Even during slower, more contemplative moments, the intensity remains palpable.

For those of you who don't list patience as their main virtue, I can recommend the album's title track, which stands out by cutting straight to the chase. It's a relentless assault from the very first note, mostly avoiding the labyrinthine structures found elsewhere on the album. In many ways, it feels like a reminder that Obsidyen hasn't forgotten black metal's primal essence, even as they explore more complex territory.

However, for all its artistic endeavors, the album's ambition comes at a cost, its complexity also being its Achilles' heel. If you don't dedicate enough time to Litany Of Iah, the songs risk sounding interchangeable. For me the constant shifts in tempo and mood can make it difficult to emotionally connect with single sections. It's the kind of record that demands repeated listens to fully appreciate. But even the most devoted fans of the genre might find themselves torn: is this brilliance or pretension? Friend or foe? Sometimes it's both.

In the end, Litany Of Iah is a challenging listen that walks the razor's edge between being a friend and an enemy of black metal. For fans who are willing to venture off the straightforward black metal path and navigate a maze of intricate compositions, the album offers a rewarding experience. But for those looking for immediacy or raw simplicity, it may be a step too far into the unknown.

Rating: 75 out of 100, because it's a bold journey into intricate black metal. It doesn't always succeed in balancing its complexity with the visceral impact that defines the genre. If you're up for the challenge, buckle up—but don't say I didn't warn you.

Review by Dominik on February 20, 2025.

Sometimes, just by looking at a band's rating history, you can pinpoint the exact moment things went south. With Keep Of Kalessin I felt like witnessing a car slowly veer off the road—you see the warning signs, you pray for a course correction, but inevitably, the wreck happens. My patience started to run out the moment the band completed their transformation from a promising black metal band into something… else. For me, Armada was the tipping point—a blistering, extreme metal album that had already started shedding its blackened roots but still held everything together. What followed, however, was a slow descent into inconsistency and disappointment. Kolossus, Reptilian, and especially Epistemology showcased a band trying too hard to expand their stylistic range, mixing in melodic death, a touch too much symphonic sweetness, and technical prowess that, while impressive, often lacked cohesion, direction, and a clear purpose. Every album had its moments—just think of the iconic first four minutes of "Reptilian Majesty"—but each time, there was too much fluff, too much filler. And yet, with each release, I kept hoping. Like a starving dog in front of its bowl, I drooled at the prospect of Keep Of Kalessin finally finding their way back.

Then Katharsis arrived, and I wasn't exactly rushing to grab a copy. Repeated disappointment teaches you caution. But patience is a virtue, and good things come to those who wait. The album is the long-awaited reward for those of us who endured Keep Of Kalessin's musical adolescence. Against all expectations, this album quickly became my favorite of their discography. Katharsis constantly teeters on the brink of excess—melodic, dramatic, at times even too polished, it hovers on the edge of a melodic sugar rush, sometimes sticking a whole foot over the saccharine cliff, but for once, it all works. All the ingredients that previously led to frustration are here: clean singing, melodies that refuse to quit, sometimes grand dramatic choral arrangements, subtle (and not-so-subtle) keyboards, even an attempt at a ballad ("Journey's End") which we'll address later because I need a moment to prepare my disdain. But this time, the balance is right. The drummer sounds like he's on steroids, blasting along as if there's no tomorrow, the guitars are razor-sharp, the vocals are dynamic, covering a wide range of emotions, and most importantly—there are good songs. Songs that feel well-constructed rather than a collection of flashy riffs stapled together. Even the album's longest track, "The Obsidian Expanse", which in the past might have felt bloated, remains gripping throughout.

Katharsis starts with an outstanding trio of tracks that made me believe, that Keep Of Kalessin had finally nailed it. Fast-paced, yet dynamic, with relentless drumming, soaring melodies, and multi-layered vocals. "The Omni" in particular dances dangerously close to the line of excessive sugar-coating—diabetics, keep your insulin nearby—but it somehow stays just on the right side of grandiose. It may be a tad too epic, a bit too dramatic, but that depends entirely on your mood. This is an album that can either lift your spirits or drive you into a deep depression. On a bad day, its relentless upbeat energy might just push you over the edge. Or it might be exactly what you need. Try for yourself. For me, it works most of the time, and that says a lot.

The first break in intensity comes with "War Of The Wyrm", one of the two album's slower tracks, though still powerful enough to maintain momentum. Whereas "From The Stars And Beyond" gets us back on the speed train moving through Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, the stress testing comes with "Journey's End". This is where things get… unfortunate. A ballad as misplaced as a fork in a soup bowl, a track that lands with all the grace of a cow tumbling down a spiral staircase. The frontman, for all his strengths, is not a ballad singer. The song itself brings nothing unexpected, musically or emotionally, and the tragic fallen-hero lyrics feel like something borrowed from an old power metal handbook. Thankfully, Keep Of Kalessin have learned from past mistakes. This remains the album's only real misstep, and they course-correct swiftly.

Ignoring the useless outro, the album closes on a strong note, with "The Obsidian Expanse" standing out as a ten-minute showcase of everything Katharsis gets right: furious drumming, powerful melodies, just enough vocal drama, and a perfectly timed break before an explosive finish. It's probably the track that comes closest to "Armada" (the song) in spirit—more melodic, but equally memorable, especially in the buildup to its chorus. "Throne Of Execration" follows suit, delivering the album's most aggressive opening before wrapping things up in a way that leaves you wondering: why did it take them this long to realize they had everything they needed all along? Instead, they spent years serving us an inconsistent diet of half-baked experiments.

And so, after years of walking through the desert of musical indecision, Keep Of Kalessin have finally found their promised land. If this is the direction they stick with, we might finally be in for something truly great. If not—well, I'll just go back to waiting, like a battered spouse hoping the next album won't let me down again.

Rating: 8.4 out of 10, because perseverance sometimes does pay off, even if it takes a decade. After years of wandering, the band finally remembered how to write a great album.