Hulking in its riffage, twisted in its structure and baffling in its power, the New York metal band Krallice functions like a chamber quartet bent toward the extremes of the avant-garde. Members Mick Barr, Colin Marston, Nick McMaster and Lev Weinstein operate equally as composers and have, over time, switched instruments and vocal roles — with the exception of Weinstein, a drummer whose speed and precision seems alien, yet strikes with demonstrative humanity. The band's new album out Sept. 18, Scour Order, sees Krallice more or less return to its primordial form in sound and lineup, yet levels up to create sublime music worthy of symphony halls.
You'd be forgiven if you have not kept up with the band's 16 albums since forming 19 years ago — not to mention copious concurrent projects. For ease of catching up, there are three distinct phases of Krallice, helpfully outlined by two members: the knotty black metal of the first four albums; the brutal, avant-garde death metal of its middle period; and the synth-heavy, sci-fi metal freak-tasias from 2020 onward.
Scour Order does not back down from Krallice's mission to make music the likes of which have never been heard. Over 64 minutes of ruthless counterpoint, frenetic riffing, labyrinthine drum patterns and a trio of shrieking, growling and yelling vocalists, the band damn near doubles down. "Agonal Shining" opens with a black-metal march, guitars galloping at a tremolo-picked blur. McMaster has long reimagined classic literature and philosophy as surrealist metal poetry, going back to 2011's Diotima; "Grievous Corrector" starts with a dizzying fury of notes, but woozes into an uneasy, melodic haze, a musical mimicry of the lyrics pulled from the poem "Mnemosyne," Friedrich Hölderlin's meditation on the burden of memory.
Krallice creates what Gustav Mahler called "absolute" music: free from narrative, intent on feeling. And like the daring, century-bridging Bohemian composer, Krallice is not going to beat the allegations of being overstuffed, chaotic and overly technical — depending on your temperament and tolerance, those attributes will thrill some and wear out others. Yet Scour Order, in its looking back on nearly two decades of challenging metal, forges a new way forward. The album does require a certain amount of patience, but rewards with moments of uncommon beauty. After five minutes of an edge-of-your-seat, single-note shred, synths suddenly bloom and rapturous syncopation of major chords uplift "Indecipherable Divinities." Drums drop out and a mournful ecstasy erupts from "Her Green Arms." I found myself overcome with emotion during the closing title track when, after emerging from watery depths, riffs burst through a shimmery surface. In the overwhelming escalation and resolution, there was a microcosm of our world: despair, despondence, rage, triumph.
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