A band with a strong conceptual identity is always something. Whether that’s 1914 and their commitment to depicting the true horrors of world conflicts, or The Ocean, and their exploration of Earth’s many (pre-) historic eras. And were that a spectrum, experimental black metal collective Botanist would fall towards the latter end. Not only insofar as their music leans towards an airy, progressive, post-rock, but also their concept, which, if it wasn’t obvious, is flora. Paleobotany—the band’s eleventh LP—sees this similarity become even more blunt, centering as it does on the prehistoric plants of many millions of years ago. But let not such a comparison fool you; Botanist are–as they always have done—making music that’s totally unique to them. And it’s about ancient plants. Cool right?
Paleobotany is a subtle record, and it’s not what it first appears. Botanist have dialed back the ethereal atmospheres, whispers, and the deep-in-the-mix vocal production of previous outings. Taking a big step out of atmo-black and into something quite different, they remain just as roaming, progressive, and deep. This evolution is deceptively peaceful, with sunny melodies and harmonizing singing dominating its first half. But its carnivorous side soon comes to the fore with the prevalence of throaty growls and barbed tremolos. Songs that begin with gentle post-metal find their apexes in buzzing blackened bursts, and vice-versa. These dual aspects of light and dark are the two voices that tell the story, in wonder and zeal respectively, and their interplay leads to a compelling, if strange musical experience.
The strongest aspect of Paleobotany is its charm. There’s something about the way that delicate piano and hammered dulcimer meet with ripples of elastic, energetic drumming and the warmest of riffing that’s oddly magnetic. And Botanist pull this off in so many ways; from the dramatic, with surging refrains and blastbeats (“When Forests Turned to Coal,” “Archeamphora,” “Strychnos Electri”) to the subtle, with the ‘softer’ instrumentation taking the lead (“Aristolochia,” “Magnolia,” “Sigillaria”). Melody flows smoothly through floating, sparkling major, to wistful (“Magnolia,” “Royal Protea”), or even urgent (“Archeamphora,” “Dioon”) minor modulations, and into dissonance—and back—with grace. The dynamism is electric, but somehow understated, and never overwrought, as tremolos rise into glittering apexes, and d-beats cluster, rock-operatic cleans burst out into a new, subtly hinted-at refrain. It’s all genuinely lovely, the compositions so cleverly woven together that they carry you along through ups and downs on a stream of dancing arrangements. “Archeamphora,” “Sigillaria,” and “Royal Protea,” especially take the listener on one such miniature journey, whilst snappy “Wollemia Nobilis” injects a little much-needed bite by way of blackened jazziness, in direct opposite to “The Impact…”‘s drifting peace.
Such is the pull of Paleobotany that it seems to open up a little world of its own. It certainly helps that it’s so beautifully produced, with every strum, beat, every little sung note floating crisply like falling leaves in the air. Combined with interesting, intelligent song structures, the music becomes hazily, subtly immersive, and the cleans downright endearing. On paper, this album is not my thing at all, and yet I now find myself singing along happily throughout—especially at those moments when the vocals ascend into soaring, uplifting reprise (“Strychnos Electri,” “Royal Protea”). Not to mention how listening to this album set me off reading about the subjects of every song, from the “first to be carnivorous” “Archeamphora,” to the poisonous “Strychnos Electri”—the “ancient ancestor of everything that flowers”. Given how many albums Botanist have under their belt, you know what you’re getting in for when it comes to these cleans, but I’m guessing, if not, that they could be an acquired taste. Then again, they won me over, so I’d give them a chance.
Paleobotany was the breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed. As someone who spends the majority of their listening time deep in the dissonant, angry, and bleak, Botanist’s ability to coax me into the light is a testament to the brilliant storytelling and compositional craftsmanship on display here. And it makes a good starting point for any new listener, with memorable, distinctly pretty refrains, and a solidity gained from the distancing from abstractions of atmo-black. Maybe it’s too early to say whether it’s Botanist’s best album, but it definitely marks a new moment in the sun for these plant-worshippers.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 17th, 2024
The post Botanist – Paleobotany Review appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.
