Witches know a thing or two about bonfires. With their third album, Konvent turns the tables and plunges the old world into a redemptive and cathartic blaze: Firesky is presented by the quartet as the result of a desire to reduce everything to ashes in order to create a more united and empathetic world, stemming in particular from “the global political situation, (...) denouncing active decisions aimed at depriving women and LGBTQ people of their fundamental rights”. Here what fuels this inferno; and whilst Konvent’s massive, overwhelming sound was evocative, amongst other things, of immutable and monolithic forces, the Danish band are also aware that a third album is an opportunity to explore new avenues.
When listening to Konvent’s first two albums, we’d make various comments, such as “wow, that’s brilliant” or “damn, an Adam Sandler joke with extra cheese and bacon would seem light and airy in comparison”. Above all, we’d sometimes find ourselves thinking that their abyssal loops could play on forever without us ever getting tired of them – their music having a strange tendency to sweep us away like a tidal wave of darkness – and so we certainly wouldn’t have said no to a bit more. This time round, almost all the tracks are close to ten minutes long – enough to ensure that this demolition job will leave not a speck of dust behind, that we’ll be properly crushed by end-of-the-world rhythms, and that only a few ashes will remain… but, above all, it's enough to give Konvent the space they need to transform, evolve and surprise.
Firesky begins with an exorcism, a violent and liberating act. When Rikke Emilie List’s voice rises from the abyss to land straight in the pit of our stomachs like a concrete block, a primal satisfaction immediately takes hold of us, poor pieces of meat here to be ground to a pulp: Konvent is always such an extreme and radical force. There is something exhilarating about this growl, which seems to embody the most absolute primordial darkness, paired with hypnotic riffs. Then, Konvent shatters its own conventions: a meditative pause where the acoustic elements slowly creep towards a luminous post-rock that eventually mutates into redemptive black metal. The inferno, the exorcism: it’s all there, right from this very first powerful, liberated and ambitious track.
Indeed, it’s clear that, after two albums, the musicians in Konvent have been questioning themselves: where to go next, and how to avoid falling into the trap of repetitive gimmicks whilst remaining true to their core identity. The foundations were solid (and that’s an understatement!), solid enough to allow them to shake things up without the whole structure collapsing. Confident in both their artistic vision and their audience, the Danish musicians take the time to bring immersive and rugged soundscapes to life. The terrain is rugged, the contrasts acrobatic. The tension builds to a climax before subsiding, reinforcing the emotional power of Firesky, as exemplified by the melancholic Scorning—a nostalgic requiem that flares up into a storm of rage and bitterness—or the soaring passages of the title track, featuring Mai Soon Young Øvlisen (Meejah), which lend the seismic tremors a more ethereal dimension. Of course, you’re also thoroughly crushed by it, as on In the Unknown, which, despite its fascinating, obscure mysteries, is also a merciless, inescapable track.
As the flames of the closing track Postludium crackle gently, we take stock: never before have we heard Konvent with such bite, such ferocity, yet also displaying as much vulnerability as on this third album. It’s suffocating, yet you can still breathe. Burning down to rebuild from the ashes – that’s more or less what the Danish band are offering here, although the essence of their work remains very much intact. Not only is the result apocalyptically beautiful, but it also promises an adventurous and exciting future.
