Forgotten Realms: Suspended in the Brume of Eos

I swear that sooner or later we’re going to start discussing more recent metal releases but I’ve been sitting on this album for a while and it’s too good and too unappreciated to go unmentioned here.

By the mid-2000s, melodic death metal had become something of a cursed realm. Whether it was the hordes of Swedish clones aping the Iron Maiden-meets-Morbid Angel blueprint of the mid-90s or the legions of American tough guys who grafted it onto East coast hardcore and were promptly signed to a three-album deal by Metal Blade Records, the term “dual guitar harmonies” now elicits more groans than horns. The genre’s forefathers, In Flames and Dark Tranquility did little to move things forward once the genre really took off, either just rehashing their sound over and over with a smattering of fancy new electronic elements or abandoning their roots entirely.

Of course people still like melodic death metal when they hear it, it just has to go by a different name these days lest it be dismissed outright. When Minnesota duo Obsequiae released Suspended in the Brume of Eos in 2011, Agalloch and other transcendental black metal acts like Wolves in the Throne Room were thrown around as comparisons, but to my ear their lineage is easily closer to Gallery-era Dark Tranquillity (God that pretentious extra ‘L’ always killed me) trapped in an evil Renaissance fair.

The black metal comparisons work up to a point, especially with the raspy, buried vocals of Blondel de Nesle, but whereas those bands use guitars to create atmosphere and texture, Suspended in the Brume of Eos is about the riff. Opener "Altars of Moss" makes a serious statement, its opening melodies dancing and weaving like drunken, flute-wielding Satyrs in the forest. The riff remains front and center, swerving between the nimble-fingered slashing of "In the White Fields" and "Arrows" before delving into the realms of heaving doom on "The Wounded Fox" and the title track.

Also absent from so many of Obsequiae’s supposed peers but present here in glorious abundance are some epic, hair-in-the-wizard’s-maelstrom solos. They’re not technical marvels or anything, but the explosions of melody like the one at the 2:20 mark in “Altars of Moss” are a sweet relief to ears accustomed to months of monolithic sludge and blackened abysses.

Look, we’ve already wasted enough time on an album that’s already three years old. Just turn up your speakers and jam this thing.