Frantic Bleep

The Sense Apparatus (The End)
by Daniel Lukes

There must be, as they say, something in the water over there in Norway. Otherwise, how to explain the bizarre quality of the waves black metal delved into and is still swimming amidst, from Arcturus, Ved Buens Ende, and Borknagar up to Dødheimsgard, Solefald, Virus, Source of Tide, Black Comedy, and more? All bands have taken the black metal blueprint and twisted it beyond recognition, all have, in their different ways, taken its sonic darkness and wickedly spray-painted it with the gaudy hues of a carnival bizarre in full psychedelic flow.

The latest in that venerable tradition are Frantic Bleep. Sonically close to, say, Solefald’s Gothic exuberance or Katatonia’s doomy litanies, the band ply a heterogeneous form of Gothic/romantic metal with swirls of blackened psychedelia and flourishes of prog-metallic flair, melodic vocals (courtesy of kindred spirits Madder Mortem’s Paul Mozart Bjørke, also on bass), melancholic keyboards, eerie atmospheric chantings, the works. Mostly mid-paced, Frantic Bleep (in spite of their name, which suggests a Warp/Rephlex-style electronica act) deal in moods swaying between epic, self-adoring grandeur and Byron-esque Romantic despair. You just know that if they’d been born in the 1700s, they’d’ve totally hung out with the doomed Romantic poets crowd.

Can’t wait for the next Opeth album? This should suit you nicely.
(www.theendrecords.com)