ANCHOR AND BURDEN – Extinction Level

MoonJune 2024

Sturm und Drang from the former place of great divide where the future lies in wait for event horizon to clear.

ANCHOR AND BURDEN –
Extinction Level

Separately, Markus Reuter and Alexander Dowerk are two of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet, but arm them with guitars, and you’ll probably find it dangerous to stick around this miniature Teutonic Order whose members tend to bring out aggressiveness in each other – the creative kind of energy which will relentlessly, like a black star, pull the listener towards its core. Still, the goal of the order in question seems to be fighting chaos: that’s what their last albums, where the pair of eight-stringers’ battles get stoked by Asaf Sirkis’ drums and Bernhard Wöstheinrich’s ivories, try to achieve. After "Kosmonautik Pilgrimage" signaled their progress from streaming and downloading aspects to physical media, the foursome’s struggle to overcome entropy became all too apparent – and never more so than on the ensemble’s next endeavor, the apex of the quartet’s fierce assault on the audience’s senses.

One doesn’t have to wait until the hellish symphony of “Mutual Assured Destruction” stumbles to spell its acronym in instrumental terms, though. One should feel swayed and astounded once resonant opener “Fractured Self” slowly consolidates sparse strands of romantic melody only to swat them away in a tidal wave of dirge harmonies which give way to unhurried riffs and earth-shattering, mesmerically angular aural figures that grow pregnant with promise as the piece crawls towards “Body Expansion” instead of cathartic coda. The segueing between the epics may highlight the record’s slightly concealed concept, yet there’s also shift of color and dynamic between these expansive tracks, as percussive splashes and stereo panning provide sharper contrast to the otherwise crepuscular swathes of sound, with heavy passages adding emotional weight to the proceedings. The frenetic “Nine Gates To Dominion” introduces wondrous sonic lapses to the ensemble’s exciting brew, yet smooths over peaks and valleys for stronger impact and sets a stage for the avant-garde “Extinction Phase” whose 18 minutes are bound to steamroll one’s perspective via ever-changing grooves, bass rumble and electronic squeals.

As a result, a similarly discordant, deceptively dissonant “The Crust Of This Earth” flows so magnificently to bring the album to a close that it’s almost breathtaking. Forgetting to take a breath might render the “Extinction Level” title too literal, but this would be a small price for the rapture hidden here.

*****

October 30, 2024

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