It’s almost perverse to get excited for a DSBM release this side of the holidays but alas the latest EP from Swedens’ Mist of Misery is a Chtistmas jumper worth taking the scenic route off the bridge for. The thirty-three minute mini album is equal parts horrorific noise and frozen beauty, and burning with more than enough passion for an unholy forest of flames. Clearly that how you make Fields of Isolation.
As even with the lo-fi punk production values there remains an air of class about the pseudo-classical cum crust punk attitude on display through this release. Black metal, once the punkiest of metals, is presented here in its maturest evolution yet. Where dark abrasive soundscapes lay complete with complex melodies. Welcoming a contemplative mood through its recurrent genre swings.
Comparing this music to depression is like saying Greek tragedies are inherently bad. Fields of Isolation features a verbose emotional vocabulary and confronts these misigivngs about the genre with a stern yet solemn glare. Emanating from its likeness to rocks’ power balladeering while dancing with Dvořák.
Also if cowing silence into chorus is a thing it’s emphacized even more here with a true to the original homage to the mighty Coldworld. If this disc was a newspaper article you’d be forgiven for bemoaning it as a terrible pun. However it sits here comfortably out of place and wonderfully brilliant in all its majestic glory. It’s interesting to hear this kind of ackowledgement within the genre. It almost makes the cold, bleak soundscapes seem friendly.
Fields of Isolation might just be an EP but it’s got more than enough esoteric charm oozing from beneath its desolate musings to double its thirty-three and a bit minute run-time. In both its acoustic pieces and its more composite songs this release fittingly captivates the imagination by creating a space to channel your thoughts.