PICK OF THE WEEK: Mesmur smear world-toppling misery all over funereal third record ‘Terrene’

If you were to tell me the entire world is in a freefall, I wouldn’t argue. In fact, I’d probably ask if you’ve been paying attention to things I say in real life, on social media, and on this page because I bought into that concept long ago. But there are so many in denial for various reasons—brainwashed by moral-free politicians, their money is in jeopardy, they don’t care—that is never hurts to bluntly hammer home to point over and over again.

Funeral doom crushers Mesmur, a band whose members hail from all over the world, aren’t just bringing you that perspective from one country or one continent. They’ve seen it, lived it, breathed it for years, and that pushes over into their stunning third record “Terrene,” which is a mammoth of an album. While the band has basked in the stars in the past, this new record is more earth-bound in its approach, though there remains alien DNA all over this thing. Their drubbing approach to doom remains as dark and dank as ever, but there also is more atmosphere than ever before as well as added texture from guests Don Zaros (of Evoken, who handles flute) and Nadia Avanesova (cello) as they infuse color into the work that this band—vocalist Chris G. guitarist/synth player Jeremy L., bassist Michele M., drummer John D.—has committed to history.

“Terra Ishtar” emerges from the skies with a frosty pace and a cosmic, spacious atmosphere that unfurls into evenly paced punches and then cavernous growls that rupture your bowels. Synth spreads as a sorrowful adventure begins to take hold, with the leads opening and stretching their wings and the double-kick drums ravaging the earth. That pushes back into space again as orchestral synth creates waves, and a mournful haze begins making its way across the ground before things ramp up again. Hulking growls pummel as the stars sizzle, and everything melts into a slithering dirge. “Babylon” has keys shimmering as we open into a scene from a dream, pounding away as the tempo boils. Keys bleed despair while the growls set in and chew your guts, with things getting sludgy and tough to travel. The guitars begin to weep as the music gets slurry, floating nautically into another round of savagery. The track hulks into a synth haze, bludgeoning repeatedly until the melodies melt into the clouds.

“Eschaton” has gothy keys and a bone-crushing pace as growls begin to crawl through the mud. The leads then catch fire, and the playing is more uptempo, at least as it refers to Mesmur’s typical pace. The growls punish before the playing goes cold, leaving you in chills as it mixes with cleaner waters and ghostly speaking. Strings then gather and sweep, swimming into moody guitars and murky synth that give the track a gothy finish. “Caverns of Edimmu” closes the record by unloading murky sounds and a more vulnerable pace, as it feels like the world is falling apart. The growls are smeared with psychedelic echo while the keys crawl and lower a goth-style curtain. While that’s happening, a sci-fi-style bubble bursts as the growls begin to aggravate mental wounds, and the playing gets purposefully dreary. Sorrowful scraping keeps working at sore spots while the grisly hell combines with elegant synth to put a morose sheen over everything, with the song coming to a mystifying, mind-teasing finish.

“Terrene” is meant to be the more grounded record of the band’s collection, but Mesmur definitely didn’t abandon the cosmos on these four funereal passages. This band remains under the radar for many, which is a shame since Mesmur have been nothing but solid since they started, and their third record continues to open their expanse. Perhaps this new document will be what the band needs to open more ears and bring added followers to their morbid procession.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/mesmurdoom/

To buy the album, go here: https://solitude-prod.com/releases/solitude-productions/mesmur-terrene/

For more on the label, go here: https://solitude-prod.com/