Alexander S. - 14/Oct/2019  If suddenly the participants of Paradise Lost decide to compose memoirs, then by all means there will be a chapter-manual entitled “How to stir up in your listeners a fading interest in yourself and make your album one of the most anticipated among the phenomenal abundance”. It sounds like it’s quite understandable, but in fact the work is thorough and phased. First, it is necessary that the most important person in the group create a project on the side with the goal of frolic and shaking antiquity. Then the frontman, the owner of a sad look and the appearance of a driven spaniel, must join the existing brigade of Swedish retrogrades, let go of a solid beard with a shovel and demonstrate that for twenty years the vocal cords have not forgotten how to growl, wheeze and make sounds that are far from the usual phlegmatic clean-voice. Already at this stage, not only fans, but already just outside observers will begin to whisper and share ideas: what if the group breaks up like an old man? What if, again, under a familiar sign, there will be a growling that has not been heard for twenty years? Here they, softened and ready for anything, must be taken literally by the throat: first show an extremely gloomy cover-engraving, and then finish off with a clip for the song, as if exhumed from a burial place many years ago. Everything, the necessary tension is organized, the intrigue is created - you can release an album and watch the reaction to it.
And the reaction will come out bright; Silent, “The Plague Within” will leave the listener with a mass of impressions and thoughts. And the first among them will be this: we were deceived. But we do not disagree, because this deception is of a pleasant quality. The British, of course, cheated, making a single a song that was completely uncharacteristic of the whole work. And here lies the catch - not one of the songs here can be considered indicative. Paradise Lost made a spectacular somersault, having managed to record an album that was diverse, unusual and which posed a serious question for the audience: “The Plague Within” turned out to be their best record, counting from “Icon”, or all the same with “Draconian Times”? Of course, there is no talk of a full-fledged return to the “roots” that the necrophilic horde requires, and it’s for the better. Eclecticism reigns on the album, gathering the best from different periods of its history, but all the elements have been thoroughly aired and exude freshness, not a mothballs stink. The British are no longer trying to offer a low-calorie, vegetarian doom / death, presented in two past works, but they boldly growl and load, although they spare, not slapping the listener on the head with a gravestone, as was characteristic of the debut album and its last. A sense of proportion is a trait of a true gentleman, you know.
The reason for the album is notable - the band does not go with trump cards, but is already playing with muscles, giving time to get used to Mr. Holmes growling and combining it with clean vocals. The reception is not new, but it looks very well in the context of this particular group. Well, then it begins: the number with the violin and female vocals, and that massive and heavy single, and stoner rock ... Yes, yes, there is no mistake, two songs from “The Plague Within” are downloaded in a completely southern way and choked with hemp smoke. “Varied album” - it was not an empty phrase, are you daring? And if the appearance among the songs of a purebred death metal of the old school (without tin, but recognizable enough) can be explained by Vallenfyre and Bloodbath, then where did the British get the Texas sadness - God knows. But the variety and unusualness of the album are not its most important advantages. Devilish appeal, forcing to turn on the drive over and over again; bright hit songs, driving them straight into the brain and forcing almost howl along with Holmes. This is the main value of the album, as well as the fact that with the originality and variety of the songs presented, in the future the work looks whole and unified. Not very well-combined genres in such interpretation and arrangement harmonize and complement each other.
Paradise Lost saved their face - branded end-to-end guitar through solos never disappeared; Holmes, although he prefers the extreme look here, does not depart from his mournful whining. The recognizable handwriting of the masters, in general, has not disappeared, but the composition he wrote is unexpected and new. The phenomenon, in essence, is amazing: the old, well-deserved group takes and writes down the imperishable, quite capable of competing with the already recognized and kissed cults of their own authorship. Now it only remains to wait for the story to repeat: the second “Host” and the corresponding explosion among the fans.
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