Nihilism - Obscurite Noir
Baby steps into darkness.
Though I may not have grown up here, I do consider Thessaloniki to be “my city”. Living an hour away from it, and enjoying my university years here, has led to me developing a particular connection with it, the people and its rhythms providing an air of comfort and homeliness. This extends to its vibrant underground scene, which has been sustaining itself through shows and the proliferation of local zines (shoutout to Morbid Press, if you live in the city and haven’t bought an issue yet get on with the programme). For how small the city is compared to Athens, or most big European metal capitals for that matter, it has proven to be a treasure trove for metal, with many bands cropping up on a seemingly yearly basis, some of which I’ve already covered, such as Dysnerved and Vile Extortion.
Among them is Nihilism, who have elevated themselves to local hero status within the scene since their formation, opening up for a lot of big names over the past few years, among them Batushka and Mortuary Drape. They’re a band that has existed just outside my field of vision for a while now, and I’ve found myself digging into their catalogue over the past year or so, sporadically visiting their two albums every month. While Obscurite Noir is undoubtedly the lesser of the two, it remains a rather fascinating anomaly to dissect, one I’ve been wanting to write about for some time now.
For one, it doesn’t walk along the paths carved by Greek greats, trading in the grandeur and sailing melodies for serrated dissonance and rapid fire riffing. Although there are quite a few constituents of this style in Greece, I find the way that it has established itself alongside the traditional sound quite peculiar, especially since it’s not what the country has built its reputation upon. Then again, this here album isn’t making the best case for this particular stylistic diversion, as it struggles to find its footing amidst all the intensity it presents. It’s very much a debut that sees an excited band not so much trying to find its artistic voice, but more to commit said excitement to sound by way of playing their hearts out, rather than by conjuring something that showcases their influences or what they’re aiming for. This results in tracks like “I”, which veers terrifyingly close to being a non-starter, with its meandering “sustained chords overlaid with arpeggios” introduction holding back the song from eventually hauling ass into a ferocious, if somewhat nondescript piece, that is somewhat salvaged by its climax. It’s a quite excellent release of tension that was built up after things picked up steam, the flurry of tremolo riffing culminating in a rather uplifting sequence that dominates the second half, the drums’ fluctuations providing some interesting accents whilst seamlessly rolling through straight blast beats to double-bass segments.
Really, post-introduction “I” is a microcosm for the rest of Obscurite Noir, as it maintains this full-throttle uniformity for a vast majority of its runtime, with only a handful of diversions, resulting in a monotony that is impossible to shake off, especially given the fact that most of the tracks hover in the 5 minute ball park . As the riffing doesn’t change much from slightly off-centre Scandinavian tremolo attacks and strumming, “IV” makes for a welcome rest stop from the dross that preceded it. It’s an instrumental piece that gets some breathing room and lets the band flex its muscles as composers, resulting in a moody atmosphere driven by some more jangly guitar lines, as well as some fluttering cymbal work, not to mention some howling licks that manage to embed themselves nicely in the mind. The absence of vocals could also be perceived as a boon, as Chris Bonos’ high-pitched screaming appears unsure of itself throughout the album, hanging in the back of the mix, more a nuisance than a confrontational presence that wishes to tear at the listener.
While it doesn’t culminate in something all that explosive, it marks a turning point in the listening experience, as “V” careens forth with what I can only describe as a majestic fucker of a riff, not to mention that it inverts what was the “the song starts relatively slow and picks up as it goes on” modus operandi the duo operated with thus far, providing a small oasis for the listener later in the song. Furthermore, clean textures abound through its break, further elevated by the fact that this is one of, if not the only instance where I could actually pick up on the bass, which was providing a nice dose of warmth to the proceedings.
Among them is Nihilism, who have elevated themselves to local hero status within the scene since their formation, opening up for a lot of big names over the past few years, among them Batushka and Mortuary Drape. They’re a band that has existed just outside my field of vision for a while now, and I’ve found myself digging into their catalogue over the past year or so, sporadically visiting their two albums every month. While Obscurite Noir is undoubtedly the lesser of the two, it remains a rather fascinating anomaly to dissect, one I’ve been wanting to write about for some time now.
For one, it doesn’t walk along the paths carved by Greek greats, trading in the grandeur and sailing melodies for serrated dissonance and rapid fire riffing. Although there are quite a few constituents of this style in Greece, I find the way that it has established itself alongside the traditional sound quite peculiar, especially since it’s not what the country has built its reputation upon. Then again, this here album isn’t making the best case for this particular stylistic diversion, as it struggles to find its footing amidst all the intensity it presents. It’s very much a debut that sees an excited band not so much trying to find its artistic voice, but more to commit said excitement to sound by way of playing their hearts out, rather than by conjuring something that showcases their influences or what they’re aiming for. This results in tracks like “I”, which veers terrifyingly close to being a non-starter, with its meandering “sustained chords overlaid with arpeggios” introduction holding back the song from eventually hauling ass into a ferocious, if somewhat nondescript piece, that is somewhat salvaged by its climax. It’s a quite excellent release of tension that was built up after things picked up steam, the flurry of tremolo riffing culminating in a rather uplifting sequence that dominates the second half, the drums’ fluctuations providing some interesting accents whilst seamlessly rolling through straight blast beats to double-bass segments.
Really, post-introduction “I” is a microcosm for the rest of Obscurite Noir, as it maintains this full-throttle uniformity for a vast majority of its runtime, with only a handful of diversions, resulting in a monotony that is impossible to shake off, especially given the fact that most of the tracks hover in the 5 minute ball park . As the riffing doesn’t change much from slightly off-centre Scandinavian tremolo attacks and strumming, “IV” makes for a welcome rest stop from the dross that preceded it. It’s an instrumental piece that gets some breathing room and lets the band flex its muscles as composers, resulting in a moody atmosphere driven by some more jangly guitar lines, as well as some fluttering cymbal work, not to mention some howling licks that manage to embed themselves nicely in the mind. The absence of vocals could also be perceived as a boon, as Chris Bonos’ high-pitched screaming appears unsure of itself throughout the album, hanging in the back of the mix, more a nuisance than a confrontational presence that wishes to tear at the listener.
While it doesn’t culminate in something all that explosive, it marks a turning point in the listening experience, as “V” careens forth with what I can only describe as a majestic fucker of a riff, not to mention that it inverts what was the “the song starts relatively slow and picks up as it goes on” modus operandi the duo operated with thus far, providing a small oasis for the listener later in the song. Furthermore, clean textures abound through its break, further elevated by the fact that this is one of, if not the only instance where I could actually pick up on the bass, which was providing a nice dose of warmth to the proceedings.
As for “VI”, it’s the culmination of everything that was shown up to this point, all of the tricks seen throughout the album’s runtime coalescing into a piece that warrants its near-six minute length, particularly when contrasted with the “let’s stretch 3 minutes’ worth of ideas to 5” that dominated the preceding compositions. We get our flurries of rapid-fire riffing, our spaciously morose and brooding breaks, as well as some sombre guitar leads floating atop the unrelenting blasts. It’s such a great finale, yet they decide to squander that by including “VII”, a 2 minute ditty that wants to be a brooding coda so bad, yet it does little more except meander like a fart for its duration. Seriously, what’s the point? You aren’t reprising previous motifs, nor are you altering them in an engaging way, either cook up something worthwhile or don’t bother including something this inconsequential in the first place.
Although the highs aren’t able to salvage Obscurite Noir from a sense of ennui and déjà vu, they nevertheless manage to inspire some confidence in the band’s potential. It’s just unfortunate that they couldn’t fulfil it to a greater extent here. Really, it’s the kind of release that if you heard it when it originally came out you’d think that it was okay, and *maybe* make a mental note on them in case they put out anything in the future. If you decided to check it out after giving their sophomore a shot, it merely makes for an interesting curio to observe. Either way, we can all be glad they gave things another shot 2 years after the fact, and that it was one that hit far closer to bullseye than what they presented here.
Highlights: V, VI
Rating: 60%
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