Families are strange. For the most part, we’re born into them, with no say over who raises us, attached to a lineage that becomes our own whether we like that or not. I’ve had a relatively normal family, but things have slipped out of the cracks over the years that were long-held secrets that weren’t even that controversial. For other families, those unearthed truths can have more devastating effects.
“The Last Will and Testament” is the 14th record from legendary Swedish progressive death metal warriors Opeth, and this is a concept piece based in post-World War I where a family learns the hidden truths of its freshly deceased patriarch. Yes, let’s get the obvious out of the way: Mikael Åkerfeldt is growling again after having spent the past four releases singing purely in his honey-rich clean voice. But growls do not make a record. The music has to be there too, and there’s a ferocity and mystery back that the band—rounded out by guitarist/backing vocalist Fredrik Åkesson, bassist Martin Mendez, keyboard player/backing vocalist Joakim Svalberg, and new drummer/percussionist Waltteri Väyrynen, who adds a major spark—uses to plaster their sound with electricity. They sound hungry and alive. The record also features guest spots by Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull, who handles the spoken sections and, of course, flute; Europe vocalist Joey Tempest; and Mikael’s daughter Mirjam, who also provides dialog. The story itself unravels over each song, the family’s father’s unknown life unfurling, including a stunning secret revealed in the final track.
“§1” opens with footsteps across as room, the opening riff tangling and looping, Åkerfeldt’s clean singing morphing into death roar. “Alas, my time is at an end, I have wallowed in self-pity, and I confess to you as part of my final plight,” Åkerfeldt roars, moving into a weaving, warped section of smeared synths, haunting singing rousing apparition, children chattering as oblivion calls. “§2” enters in funereal keys, the growls battering with the call of, “A dreadful daughter of wretched martyr, sick to marrow and to bone,” some clues slipping out. Anderson’s narration makes flesh crawl, growls snarling as keys spiral, blending into cool acoustics, singing spreading over a dramatic sweep. “§3” is punchy and proggy, deep singing layering, strings swelling before daring and dashing, guitars catching fire as smoke chokes. “Carnal shame, a secret treaty, the lovers bond,” Åkerfeldt calls, the calm exploding into a beast that claws to the end. “§4” has the bass slinking low, growls bursting through the crust, light and dark entangling. The track gets chambery and elegant, Anderson’s flute piping, the guitars then exploding with lava. The playing brutalizes as the singing picks up as a gale-force wind, exiting into spacey strangeness.
“§5” opens in gorgeous strings, a daring trip as the singing slips in, the playing then crushing with aplomb. Growls engorge as the playing makes blood rush, the guitars searing through steel, strange claps bleating as brutality blooms. The heat intensifies quickly, guitars taking off, progressive waters lapping the shore, final eruptions spitting bits of bone. “§6” has keys layering as the drums awaken, the singing chilling before the growls explode as rhythmic stream bubbles. Drums encircle as a prog fury ensues, keys blazing into the night, illuminating the ground as the guitars work up a heavy lather, Åkerfeldt wailing, “God is watching over you, he will guide the way, he is a river of grace through the barren state of our time.” “§7” begins with guitars cutting, organs spilling, Anderson reading the matriarch’s will (not sure if it’s supposed to be in his voice or whoever is reading the document), growls crunching and wrenching as keys flood in a tornado of grays. “In a flock of kings, I am iconoclast, broken bloodline, seeping to emptiness,” Åkerfeldt jolts, the playing slowly lurching, glimmering as hope fades. Closer “A Story Never Told” is the shocking plot twist. Guitars melt as keys soften, Åkerfeldt’s singing paying the heartbreak, emotions at a high point. “A story never told and waiting in the skies, a man’s withered heart on hold, his heiress wears a stranger’s eyes,” he sings, the guitars catching fire, lives crumbling to ashes, the screen blackening for end credits.
Yes, the growls returning already has become a major story with the arrival of “The Last Will and Testament,” but don’t count out how vibrant and channeled Opeth sound here, reminding who so many of us were entranced by this force for so long. This is a record that, when it ends on your first listen, you’ll immediately want to go back into it as new wrinkles are revealed, the record’s own secrets coming out of the cracks. It’s great to have this version of the band back, one that reminds us why they’re death metal royalty but also doesn’t abandon their progressive rock years. That’s something I hope lasts well into the future and whatever comes next.
For more on the band, go here: https://www.opeth.com/
To buy the album (U.S.), go here: https://shopus.reigningphoenixmusic.com/
Or here: https://atomicfirerecords.omerch.com/
Or here (Europe): https://shopeu.reigningphoenixmusic.com/
For more on the label, go here: https://reigningphoenixmusic.com/
Meat Mead Metal 