Μνήμα (Mnima) - Καταραμένα Λείψανα (Cursed Relics)
Digging your own grave XXI: Everything you love goes cold.
Now, I know I put this series on ice for a good bit, but let it be known it wasn’t because I found myself getting bored with it. Admittedly, covering the splits did take the wind out of my sails a little bit, but that’s only one factor that stands alongside life simply happening. Perhaps most importantly though, I found myself daunted by the prospect of covering Καταραμένα Λείψανα (Cursed Relics). I’ve been listening to Μνήμα’s sophomore regularly for a while now, long before its time to be reviewed came, and at first contact I found myself simply enjoying the craft and the manic energy that I’ve come to expect from the band. But as I was getting progressively more immersed in its inner workings, it began to assume a different, far more prohibitive character.
From the opening moments of “Cursed Relics, Cursed Soil”, the mounting tension feels far more immediate than anything a dungeon synth intro could possibly conjure. The thundering cacophony that is to be unleashed is held back by jittery sway of a distant tremolo riff, the maddened voices promulgating what is to come. In a surprising turn of events, said vocals make for the album’s thematic core. Although they were always part of Μνήμα’s music, they were defined by their abrasiveness and their textural potency, rather than integrality to the music’s thematic core. Καταραμένα Λείψανα flips that notion on its head, placing the throat-rending performance front and centre. I’m generally averse to calling upon an artist’s statements on what their work is about, instead preferring to draw my own conclusions, but understanding the original intent behind this work is key to getting the most out of it. All the wailing, the lamentations through gritted teeth, and the raving that appear here are a manifestation of the grief felt during a funeral, both from the perspective of the mourners, but also the deceased themselves. Sorrow exists alongside anger, accusations, and dejection, overlapping with one another, but never in lock step. Across the four tracks seen here, there’s no shortage of moments where this chorus slips into a disharmonious mantra, a furious declamatory voice taking the lead, all the while wild shrieks, yelps and growls echo its statements with varying shades of emotion. Even a moment as overtly eccentric as the “La la la la” passage on the eponymous song feels genuine in its derangement, and its being a slight reprieve in an otherwise ruthless composition lends it an air of mockery, directed inwardly as much as it is at the listener.
Said mantras are among the few displays of audible lyrics showcasing the sentiments behind Μνήμα’s work, as they are for once easy to parse amidst the chaos, even if they are rendered in Greek. Statements such as “Mother, why?” and “You were beside me in my death” (the former reprised from “Νεκροσάβανο” off the debut), remain gut-wrenching despite their simplicity, be it because of the despair in the former, or the sheer dejection made manifest in the case of the latter. It all brings into sharp relief just how emotionally charged the band’s music is, and it begs the question of just what else was uttered in the past that was hidden away from us. It lends form to what is by all means a personal exorcism, brief moments of clarity amid an overblown wall of noise. It’s these moments of clarity that end up sucking you into what is without a doubt the band’s darkest work, a dim light in an otherwise impenetrable void.
Though I’ve dedicated two paragraphs to discussing just the vocals, it must be said that the compositions they find themselves embedded in are just as vital and fascinating to observe. The ambition displayed in the album’s 45 minutes being divided up across 4 sprawling epics is hard to ignore, and somehow each and every second is more than worthwhile. The riffing is as restless as it’s ever been, and the production coats it in a bit of that disorienting psychedelia that we’ve ever only caught glimpses of in the past, especially when it’s expanded upon with details such as the unnerving whistling on “Mirrors of Disgust”. Said song also possesses one of the few moments in Μνήμα’s catalogue that I could possibly refer to as “crushing”, a primitive pounding that was preceded by a slovenly, yet tense break, infinitely vast in its emptiness. I know that I stressed the seriousness of Καταραμένα Λείψανα quite a bit, but these riffs show up at least once in each song, and I can’t help but describe something like the riotous tumult of “Worship the Black Flame” as “fun”. It commands a reaction in its immediacy, hinting ever so slightly at our instrumentalist’s punk background.
Astoundingly enough, the consistently unfriendly and aggressive pace isn’t all that exhausting after you’re broken in by the songs. They’re quite meticulous in their construction, the ebbing and flowing is constant, despite the intensity being kept at maximum throughout. I can’t help but hold valleys such as the bass break heard on “Μνήμα” in a similar esteem as the violent catharsis made manifest by the rolling double bass on “Worship the Black Flame”. Harsh as the experience might be on the whole, it is brimming with memorable and dare I say catchy, moments, even if they’re obscured by some of their roughest tones to date. Perhaps getting carried away by the music in such a primal and simple manner is itself part of the cleansing process.
Among the reasons I found myself hesitating to cover Καταραμένα Λείψανα was the sense of finality that courses through it. The work is self-contained, its final moments being an echo of the start, an inescapable prison of anger, sorrow, and bitterness. I was daunted by its having originally been intended as a swansong for Μνήμα. Things turned out differently in the long run, but how does one do justice to what its own creator rightfully considers their apex? Is it possible to reckon with the culmination of 7 years’ labour, the violent death throes of music that assumed a life of its own beyond its creator’s designs? And yet, the unrelenting death-drive that seeps from every pore of this album is tinged with an undeniably spiteful vitality. It, just like the people attending a funeral, is multifaceted. There is passion to create, even if its main conductor is a desire for total obliteration. In a stroke of irony, I’ve found this work to be life-affirming. Because who else could conjure up such emotion if not a living being?
From the opening moments of “Cursed Relics, Cursed Soil”, the mounting tension feels far more immediate than anything a dungeon synth intro could possibly conjure. The thundering cacophony that is to be unleashed is held back by jittery sway of a distant tremolo riff, the maddened voices promulgating what is to come. In a surprising turn of events, said vocals make for the album’s thematic core. Although they were always part of Μνήμα’s music, they were defined by their abrasiveness and their textural potency, rather than integrality to the music’s thematic core. Καταραμένα Λείψανα flips that notion on its head, placing the throat-rending performance front and centre. I’m generally averse to calling upon an artist’s statements on what their work is about, instead preferring to draw my own conclusions, but understanding the original intent behind this work is key to getting the most out of it. All the wailing, the lamentations through gritted teeth, and the raving that appear here are a manifestation of the grief felt during a funeral, both from the perspective of the mourners, but also the deceased themselves. Sorrow exists alongside anger, accusations, and dejection, overlapping with one another, but never in lock step. Across the four tracks seen here, there’s no shortage of moments where this chorus slips into a disharmonious mantra, a furious declamatory voice taking the lead, all the while wild shrieks, yelps and growls echo its statements with varying shades of emotion. Even a moment as overtly eccentric as the “La la la la” passage on the eponymous song feels genuine in its derangement, and its being a slight reprieve in an otherwise ruthless composition lends it an air of mockery, directed inwardly as much as it is at the listener.
Said mantras are among the few displays of audible lyrics showcasing the sentiments behind Μνήμα’s work, as they are for once easy to parse amidst the chaos, even if they are rendered in Greek. Statements such as “Mother, why?” and “You were beside me in my death” (the former reprised from “Νεκροσάβανο” off the debut), remain gut-wrenching despite their simplicity, be it because of the despair in the former, or the sheer dejection made manifest in the case of the latter. It all brings into sharp relief just how emotionally charged the band’s music is, and it begs the question of just what else was uttered in the past that was hidden away from us. It lends form to what is by all means a personal exorcism, brief moments of clarity amid an overblown wall of noise. It’s these moments of clarity that end up sucking you into what is without a doubt the band’s darkest work, a dim light in an otherwise impenetrable void.
Though I’ve dedicated two paragraphs to discussing just the vocals, it must be said that the compositions they find themselves embedded in are just as vital and fascinating to observe. The ambition displayed in the album’s 45 minutes being divided up across 4 sprawling epics is hard to ignore, and somehow each and every second is more than worthwhile. The riffing is as restless as it’s ever been, and the production coats it in a bit of that disorienting psychedelia that we’ve ever only caught glimpses of in the past, especially when it’s expanded upon with details such as the unnerving whistling on “Mirrors of Disgust”. Said song also possesses one of the few moments in Μνήμα’s catalogue that I could possibly refer to as “crushing”, a primitive pounding that was preceded by a slovenly, yet tense break, infinitely vast in its emptiness. I know that I stressed the seriousness of Καταραμένα Λείψανα quite a bit, but these riffs show up at least once in each song, and I can’t help but describe something like the riotous tumult of “Worship the Black Flame” as “fun”. It commands a reaction in its immediacy, hinting ever so slightly at our instrumentalist’s punk background.
Astoundingly enough, the consistently unfriendly and aggressive pace isn’t all that exhausting after you’re broken in by the songs. They’re quite meticulous in their construction, the ebbing and flowing is constant, despite the intensity being kept at maximum throughout. I can’t help but hold valleys such as the bass break heard on “Μνήμα” in a similar esteem as the violent catharsis made manifest by the rolling double bass on “Worship the Black Flame”. Harsh as the experience might be on the whole, it is brimming with memorable and dare I say catchy, moments, even if they’re obscured by some of their roughest tones to date. Perhaps getting carried away by the music in such a primal and simple manner is itself part of the cleansing process.
Among the reasons I found myself hesitating to cover Καταραμένα Λείψανα was the sense of finality that courses through it. The work is self-contained, its final moments being an echo of the start, an inescapable prison of anger, sorrow, and bitterness. I was daunted by its having originally been intended as a swansong for Μνήμα. Things turned out differently in the long run, but how does one do justice to what its own creator rightfully considers their apex? Is it possible to reckon with the culmination of 7 years’ labour, the violent death throes of music that assumed a life of its own beyond its creator’s designs? And yet, the unrelenting death-drive that seeps from every pore of this album is tinged with an undeniably spiteful vitality. It, just like the people attending a funeral, is multifaceted. There is passion to create, even if its main conductor is a desire for total obliteration. In a stroke of irony, I’ve found this work to be life-affirming. Because who else could conjure up such emotion if not a living being?
Rating: 100%
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