No band should be more hostile and unforgiving on their fourth release, yet Wiegedood accomplishes just this, despite having so much vitriol on their first three records. Most bands would scale back some, add flourishes, expand their sound to the point that the fans would start to question their loyalty. Most, but not these dudes from Belgium. Yeah, they do add some bits here and there, and instead of narrowing down, they do open it up and allow some exploration. Part of it has to do with being freed from a concept format, as they followed on their first three albums, but part of it also has to do with a band gaining strength from its core sound, reveling in it, and not being afraid of who they are.
Punishing and violent right out of the gate, “FN Scar 16” is cyclonic fury, instantly in your face and razing your psyche. Yes, cyclonic is the best description of those guitars, whirling like blades, cutting down everything in their path. Tornado of souls, indeed. The relentless drums and that voice, slicing in its own cold, frigid way. It does not let down, with some tasty soloing towards the end. They don’t pull up and slow down with “And in Old Salamono’s Room…” until about a minute and a half in where we get this frigid, destructive breakdown that feels very Industrial yet totally isn’t. And then the song seems to fall apart after this, slowing, pieces rusting and collapsing until there is just a sputtering sense of utter despair. This flows right into the next track, “Noblesse Oblige Richesse Oblige,” making the two feel like a singular song. It picks up the bleakness of the former and runs it right into a buzzsaw. Yeah, it’s mid-paced and yeah there’s some sweet melody in there, but man it doesn’t hesitate to chop your head into pieces until its apocalyptic finale. “Until It Is Not” follows, and it thrashes right into the room like some kind of Death n’ Roll, catchy and headbanging. But again, it’s brutal as brutal can be. It goes on like this for about two and a half minutes, Black Metal freaks outs, silence, then back into the groove. I bet this is incredible live. “Now Will Always Be” starts a little discordant, a little electronic, that Industrial stuff rising to the surface yet again. Moody, dark dark dark, like a dank basement filled with dismembered body parts and the steady drip of blood. Things pick up, build, build, build, slowly, those treated vocals creepy as hell, almost tribal, almost alien. In a way, this song is the “epic” of the album, given its length and feel.
If you want to say the band is expanding and experimenting, this would be the track you’d point to. But man, it is relentless in its darkness and unforgiving nature, despite its melodies. This is a band doing what it wants to, following the song, not the format or the expectations. Brilliant, really. “Wade” is a slight, moody instrumental, setting up the latter run of the album. Some guitar plucking above a wall of almost subliminal noise. “Nuages” returns to the tornado, spinning wildly and full of random destruction. But this one feels heavier somehow, less jagged and more massive, weighty. Maybe it’s the tracks that come before it that gives it this extra power. But yes, this steamrolls for about four minutes before it breaks down into a psychotic mess of cries and vague warnings and turns a bit…jazzy? “Theft and Begging” resumes the carnage, sandblasting your face right away. The last notes of the former sort of lulling you into this fist in the face of a track. Like a lot of songs here, it settles into a weird groove about halfway through, allowing you to catch your breath (mercy!) before beginning the violent whirl once again. “Carousel” closes the album and deftly combines their melodic sensibilities with their more violent ones, a perfect marriage of them in fact. A summation of what has come before, you kind of get everything the entire album has encompassed in one final, searing goodbye.
There’s Always Blood At the End of the Road is the title of this fourth opus by Wiegedood, and they deliver on this promise. They spin you around, gouge your eyes, rip your guts, sing sweet lullabies in the voice of a serial killer, and put you to sleep by snuffing your soul at the end. Blood is spilt, lives are ruined, and Black Metal rules with an iron fist. Great stuff if you’re having a bad day, great stuff if you’re having a good day. This one fires on all counts and never lets down.
