Daemonarch "Hermeticum" is sort of a one-off album from Moonspell but I'm rather fond of it. By the way, the lead singer of Moonspell smells really good. He passed me on the way to the backstage and I was like, wow that's some good cologne.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=id=DZlq1aePniw;list=PLXoi4ZC7A8znqA-OPHcmpkID-kFQE7W2R
You at all familiar with the band RaHoWa? They sound like the WN fusion of Type O Negative and Moonspell.
Bridging revolutionary appeal with reactionary principles, George Burdi played an instrumental role continuing the far-right's counterculture with Resistance Records. Although pining for revolution, white nationalism's influential elders remained stolidly skeptical of Rock 'n' Roll's role for its youth. Those reservations were further compounded when skinhead thuggery courted damning press and legal scrutiny. To them, such music served no other purpose than to further misguide youthful energy towards self-destruction, and their concerns were far from unfounded. From the 1980s to the early 1990s, the angry white young'un's music of choice closely correlated with skinhead subculture; rocking against communism meant playing skinhead Oi or Hardcore Punk. Some even tinkered with Ska music in connection to skinhead subculture. RaHoWa entered the scene much like their peers, playing Rock 'n' Roll-inspired Oi, engaging in streetfights with their avowed enemies and facing assault convictions. They were crude, loutish and hardly different from the hoodrats they despised.
Nearly two years later, Burdi reinvented his band's image from muscled-headed übermenschen to soft-spoken, introspective intellectuals foretelling grim prospects for their race. Tempering their racially-charged aggression, they now composed music solemnly contemplating their cause, its trials, tribulations and existential crises. In two separate interviews, Burdi lamented the debut's inconsistency, citing that it suffered from a lack of cohesive songwriting, so he felt it imperative to evolve lest they face stagnation. The band was fully aware they might alienate core members of the scene, but feeling the milieu of Oi!, Hard Rock and Hardcore Punk within RAC played themselves out, their effort to gain respectability from a broader audience culminated in a magnum opus still championed by that very scene to this day.
Having listened to a breadth of white power's musical output from its inception to the present, I think it's obvious why the scene hail this as a masterpiece, although I initially had a hell of a time making anything of it. Overtime, I came to appreciate it for its merits, because no shopworn superlative encapsulates the album's memorability and unique spirit. I'm certain you've heard friends enthusiastically describe some band experimenting with different instrumentation or themes as “unique” that ultimately sounds contrived, listless or haphazard, but no one else within this political fringe has since taken Cult of the Holy War's mantle as the angry white man's answer to Type O Negative. The funereal melodies, gloomy keyboards, gritty riffs and foreboding lyrics altogether craft a palpably tense and pervasively chilling atmosphere unhindered by Burdi's quivering mumble and hackneyed songwriting. Apparently taking cues from Poledouris, some tracks serve as preludes reminiscent of a high fantasy epic which competently set ominous moods.
By Burdi's own admission, Type O Negative and Moonspell inspired much of their songs, but despite the obvious derivation, the compositions still manage to sound fresh. Much of RaHoWa's talent stems from their abilities to write strong anthems, and “Man Against Time” is an outstanding example of their craft. The song is full of powerful, catchy mid-tempo riffs, compelling progressions and an unmistakable gang chorus which leaves a lasting impression well after the album is over. “Hall of the Heroes” continues what the opener established at a slower tempo and introduces some great harmonies quite reminiscent of the album Bloody Kisses. “The Last Battalion” rumbles along before enveloping you in its haunting Gregorian chant chorus. The chord progression here is much simpler yet just as engaging. And then comes “God Is Dead”, channeling the spirit of Ragnar Redbeard (Nietzsche, my ass, George) with its marching beat percussion and haunting synths. The song succeeds on account of its hooks and quotable lyrics, both which redeem Burdi hitting sour notes and the cheesy harpsichord after the third verse.
In spite of Burdi's trouble staying on key, he's still capable of delivering an evocative performance as a singer. “In the Fires of 1945” highlights his ability to channel his deep, profound sorrow through his melancholic lyrics. The song is particularly poignant because Burdi sounds the most natural. Even when he's a bit shaky, he never loses you. At times, you're left wondering how well the album could've turned out if he abandoned the Peter Steele impersonation. The cover of “The Snow Fell” similarly feels from the heart, aided and abetted by the tasteful musical arrangement.
Make no mistake. The band's strengths are easily beset by some significant flaws. As with the aphorism “Too many cooks spoil the brew,” RaHoWa introduced far too many ideas for their own good, and they seem to confuse mastery with throwing as many themes in as possible. Because of the loosely incorporated breadth of ideas, some songs were noticeably given greater priority than others. “RaHoWa” is particularly frustrating, because the mid section of the song is great. After some acoustic meandering for a little more than a minute and a half, the electric guitars thunderously enter with that signature crunch. Picking up the tempo, the band treats us to some infectious soloing with time-tested riffage guaranteed to provoke headbanging. After that burst of energy comes the anticlimactic conclusion, where the band reverts to that meandering acoustic section heard in the first two minutes. It's like they ran out of ideas and played it safe.
In other places, the low production values critically hinder the impact of any given song. What should've been a fitting tribute to Ragnar Redbeard's masterpiece feels like a haphazard mess. The mood-setting progressions on “Might Is Right” bolds to a thrashy climax beset by clumsy percussion, poor mixing and a horrid mess of a guitar tone no thanks to the production; hard to appreciate the musicianship when the drums and vocals drown out the guitar.
RaHoWa was no stranger to sentimental, emotionally charged ballads, but pathos becomes bathos on “When America Goes Down”. The blame rests on Burdi's quivering performance, maudlin lyrics, gimpy acoustics and palpably artificial synths further compounded by misplaced backing vocals and terrible straining to sound intense. Often considered the band's signature song attested to by nationalist pop star Saga's cover, “Ode to a Dying People” hardly surpasses its most dreadful number. The lyrics here are tolerably sappy and the hooks are admittedly catchy, but like its drippy cousin, gimpy acoustics and melodrama drag it down in its exercise in self-pity.
With the stirring anthems, inspiration and vision, “Cult of the Holy War” forged a path which no other band from their niche has since taken up the mantle. So in spite of all this, why such a low rating? While it succeeds where the debut failed, its advantage is its atmosphere, and although unique, the songs simply cannot compare to their idols. The musicians' collective talents only had so much mileage. The production certainly didn't help, and more often than can reasonably be considered acceptable, several songs fell flat on their ass. It's still a fine album, but not one you'd want to keep revisiting.
