Review: Borknagar – Fall
There a quite a few (and still too few) seasoned bands who manage to staly true to their core with each new album. “Fall” arrives as a summit of weathered wisdom and melodic force, a testament to Borknagar’s mastery after decades of pushing northern extremes. This album is less about reinvention than refinement: each riff, each chorus, each shift between harsh and clean vocals feels deliberate, sculpted, and resonants with the listener.
The album opens with “Summits,” setting a tone of awe and tempest. Guitars slice through atmosphere, keyboards drift in cosmic twilight, and voice alternates between the roughened outright black harshness and soaring melodic clean tones. There are moments of furious intensity, but also stretches of calm, reflective space where melody and ambience hold sway. The band use those contrasts to amplify the impact—blasts feel more punishing when preceded by silence, beauty more haunting when edged by dissonance.
Songs like “Moon” and “Stars Ablaze” show Borknagar at their emotional peak. There’s a warmth behind the frost in the leads and harmonies, a sense of longing and culmination. While the clean vocals lean melodic and sometimes anthemic, they are balanced by rawer textures: harsh vocals, driving drums, tremolo riffing, such that the album never feels one-sided. Even the longest song, the nearly ten-minute finale “Northward,” is paced so it draws out its epics without sagging.
Production under Jens Bogren serves this balance well. The mix is clean and dynamic, giving space to layers without losing power. Drums are crisp, bass deep and supportive, keys and ambient elements shimmer, vocals audible but not overly dominant. The transitions between songs are smooth: the flow from “Afar” into “Moon” into “Stars Ablaze” feels natural, not a patchwork. The warmth in the soundscape offsets some of the inherent cold in black metal, making the album feel alive, not just monumental.
Thematically, “Fall” delves into the edges of existence: nature, decay, longing, and the struggle to endure. Lyrics do not hand out platitudes. They reflect the harsh beauty of landscapes and inner storms. “The Nordic Anthem” in particular stands out as a moment of minimalism and clarity: clean voice, sparse instrumentation, a focus on melody that allows reflection more than exhilaration.
Some mid-album songs tread familiar ground, and the melodicism occasionally shades toward predictability. For longtime fans, some of the contrasts and clean vocal prominence might feel safer than daring. A few passages linger similarly in texture, with less movement than maybe one expects from a band with such a storied catalog. The balance between melody and aggression is mostly excellent, but when the clean side presses too far, the tension loosens.
Still, these are quibbles in what is otherwise a commanding work. “Fall” is an album that asks for immersion, for patience, for letting both light and shadow shape one’s experience. It does not merely echo past glories; it engages them, refines them, makes them matter now.
