Wolves in the Throne Room: Diadem of 12 Stars

As the home of labels such as Kill Rock Stars and K Records, Olympia, Washington has blessed us with a wide variety of off-kilter music. Unwound, Bikini Kill, and Microphones/Mount Eerie were birthed in the city, while Nirvana and the Melvins used it as a hub, connecting with a population of fans not available in their own smaller hometowns. Something about the bustling college town seems to breed a restlessness that can't be cured with mainstream music. In that sense, Wolves in the Throne Room fit perfectly with their geographical peers. Musically, however, the band is a wholly different monster, combining intense, desolate black metal with dark folk and goth.

Wolves claim inspiration from the "mystical witch ideology" of the Olympian forests (a Googling only revealed news stories about a woman robbing banks dressed as a witch, but I don't doubt the mythology exists), and the imagery on the disc adheres to that. The cover is a misty forest waterfall scene, and the sparse booklet shows the three flannel-and-jeans-clad band members ritualistically jamming out in the woods, complete with a naked woman and enough candles to make Smokey the Bear bristle. Oddly, the picture shows two members playing acoustic guitars while a third blows on some sort of woodwind. These instruments don't really reflect the music on Diadem of 12 Stars, but they do give a hint that there's more here than your typical muddy barrage of black metal muck.

The four songs, shrouded in a just-slightly-cleaner version of black metal's usual lo-fi production, range from 13 to 20 minutes. For many of those minutes, the band sticks to the genre's typical facets. An impenetrable wall of wailing instruments is set to a rhythm that alternates from blindingly fast to a slow crawl, and the vocals, mixed low, are desperate rasps peppered with bestial growls. But it's the inclusion of folk and goth that separates Wolves in the Throne Room from the pack, breaking up the madness with moments of poetic clarity. Opener "Queen of the Borrowed Light" is a relentless assault for the first five minutes. But seemingly out of nowhere, the distortion gives way to quiet, clean picking and atmospheric keyboards, ushering in the song's second act. "Face in the Mirror (Part 1)" introduces witch-inspired, gothic female vocals provided by Hammer of Misfortune's Jamie Myers. But after another brief acoustic folk interlude, the band erupts again into familiar territory with dizzying speed and demonic howls.

Those who aren't familiar with this style of music might find it hard to see the beauty that is here, and the songs' epic lengths certainly don't invite new listeners. Admittedly, listening to the record is daunting. The songs are complex, with layers of melodies that at times seem to be working completely against each other. Even with the breaks and quiet interludes throughout the songs, it will take multiple listens for songs to differentiate themselves (but really, that's probably not the band's intention anyway). But art doesn't have to be pleasant to be pretty, nor easy to be enjoyable, and Diadem of 12 Stars is a dark, haunting piece that's as gorgeous as it is ugly.