Our paths, though carved differently, the soles of the feet may touch the mud of the earth, while others may step upon the cool, gleaming marble. Despite this, our roads may converge towards the solace of finding peace, pure bliss. To be able to look towards a clear sky, as if to commune with oneself, to find release from the burden that welcomes weariness. For even though we walk with hope in our hearts and languor in our spirits, what we truly desire at the end of our path is the comfort of eternal rest.
‘Marrow of the Spirit’ by Agalloch is an ode to the soul that looks upon the planes of solitude, becoming a voyager to reach its pinnacle, yet it is on this same journey that strife is discovered before serenity is granted. A remastered version of this Atmospheric Black Metal masterpiece grants unto the listener a different perspective, one of clarity that seeks not to tread on the art of its former spirit, but rather to render unto it a more vibrant spirit for its energy to become illuminated. Though its former version possessed a charm whereby its elements were shrouded, yet made more tangible, its current version still keeps its atmosphere, albeit one that is in turn more exposed for the soul to trace.
As the soul embarks upon its trek into the unknown, naked as the day of its birth, we may feel upon the flesh the very sensation that permeates around us. From the groaning frost that curls upwards into the air, clinging to the tree line, numbing the flesh, to the very rose bush whose thorns prick the feet. For that which is encountered is in the same vein as sound that germinates beneath the firmament of the atmosphere, sprouting forth, where chords transform into melodies and melodies become the very landscape in resonance that the soul marvels at in wonder, the very landscape that becomes its own tribulation but also its sanctuary.
A beautiful resonance is woven through the guitars, expelling a myriad of melodies that feel intimate in their language, as though dialogue is being fashioned between the soul and notes. Here, through the remaster, the guitars are graced with a more polished sound, their timbre becoming more pronounced, their steel-like texture, frigid yet thin, carrying itself with a palpable expression, for through their notes, the lingering chords, their body rises in rhythmic cadence, swelling and stretching, as though our thoughts can line their contours and feel their depth.
‘Into the Painted Grey’ is a perfect testament to the remastering of the guitars’ sound, for the pristine resonance here never sterilizes the atmosphere. Instead, it accentuates the layers. Where before they were shrouded in the older mix, here they become more vibrant, thawed out in a sense. A myriad of melodies are used through the convergence of the acoustic guitars as well as the harsher strings, soaring above them, often cascading into an ethereal, spacey tone that vaults into a solo of the same energy. The action of fluidity becomes more apparent where it ceases to be fragmented. Instead, the morphing from the solos to the stippling sounds gives the illusion of the guitars actually inhaling and exhaling in their language of art. Verily, it is known that Agalloch possesses the virtuosity to carve a riverbank of sound, flowing with an unhindered current, where riffs crash and slow down in pace, yet their rhythm always becomes adaptable to their atmosphere.
Putting aside the instrumental capabilities, what becomes the pinnacle of the guitars is their manner of unlocking the crevices of the soul where there exists no keyhole, yet their melodies diffuse into our own walls, as if to match the countenance of our own emotions, like smoke that glides into the air, curling with poise and grace. So too does the guitar inhabit its shape. ‘The Watcher’s Monolith’ is a track which showcases this in its midsection between the vocals and the guitars, where it feels like an ebb and flow between these two, its cosmic sound in a cyclic motion giving way to the vocals in a punctuated manner, then seamlessly branching into a melody of the same cadence.
Our voyage upon these lands may test the strength of one’s mental fortitude, where our legs may be stiffened by anguish, for even to muster the courage to lift them may force us instead to drag them across the very dirt, where we crawl upon thorns, breaking our nails in every strife. Every motion results in sound, and every sound becomes etched into a pulse. But in the same breath as our bellies touch the earth, there exist moments where relief fills our lungs, so much so that every breath feels profound as our spirit soars, its beat ascending in the same fashion as it descends.
The very drumming here feels metaphorical, as though each beat comes forth from the pulsation of one’s soul, untethered, each impact leaving a profound resonance. In the same flow as the guitars’ production, the drumming here also carries with it a polished sound, not the kind which amputates its reverberation but rather colors its density, where the pummeling and even somber moments leave waves in their aftermath, as though you can trace the sound wave from each crash and fill.
The track ‘Ghosts of the Midwinter Fires’ showcases the drumming’s expressive cadence through its shifting motion between the frenetic beats and the more subdued beats, but more specifically, the way in which both contrasting energies exist in their own resonance while also coalescing into each other. The synergy of the percussion against the guitars carries a rhythmic swagger, where it gives the strings the opportunity to breathe during its more subdued beats, allowing the melody to ride above its reverberation. However, it shows the same energy in its more upward movement, where the same beat evolves into a harsher tone, increasing in speed, carrying the melody, then halting for the spacey tones to permeate. Conversely, the drumming doesn’t just shift between juxtaposed energies. Rather, it becomes the force that heralds the climax of a song’s crescendo, where each beat, tempered, swelling, and building, feels as though the spirit is drawing nearer to the actual sound. In my opinion, this volatile aspect, where the percussion climbs, feels rather cathartic, as though the soul ascends with it.
Through the percussion and strings, a path to solace is forged, and the essence of its hurdles beckons to our feet. Here, melodies become the yearning, where every beat transforms into the anguish we exert to attain such bliss. However, the voice… this becomes the spirit which perforates the atmosphere, as if to cry out to the unseen, arms outstretched, pleading for salvation to come.
Casting a wraith-like shade upon the soundscape, the vocals arrive like an apparition, hidden amongst candlelight, where their shape becomes elongated yet ghastly in presence. In tandem, the production grants this ability unto the vocals, enriching them, where their aggression feels more visceral and their tone more textured. ‘Into the Painted Grey’ renders the voice in a caustic shape, as the vocals mask themselves in a snarling cadence, where the words evoked do so in a biting manner, cold in their temperament yet thick in their texture, as though the vapors of frost are exhaled from every enunciation. The aura portrayed through the vocals can be looked upon as the human element, where it feels as though their raw emotions are transmuted into words, feral in their voice yet elegant in their writing.
Conversely, against the drums and guitars, the vocals act as the energy which interlinks with the other elements, amplifying the atmosphere as they flow in tandem. The clean vocals add a contrast to the harsher speech, where it’s not just black and white. Rather, this is like the sigh of relief, the moment of clarity, while the harsher elements become the very turmoil that wishes to be free in words.
Agalloch, through ‘Marrow of the Spirit’, becomes the destination that a soul seeks, through its resonance where a mind can ensconce its spirit inside its melody, for here, sound is transmuted into a landscape where the body is cocooned by its own soul. For naught are we observers. Instead, our very essence dissipates into every blade of grass, our motion takes flight within the breath of wind, and our mind ascends to the highest peak that is the citadel of stone, for here is the origin of tranquility, here is where repose is granted.
