I love black metal. Which is one of those obvious statements I make every so often in reviews, but there is always a reason behind why I do. For example, black metal goes with every season, but it works best during the late autumn/early winter period. I mean, it’s alright blasting out Darkthrone et al while the sun is baking and you’re dangling your feet in the kids paddling pool, but let’s be honest, it works much better when the rain is trying to strip the skin off you and the wind is cutting through your soul.
Which brings me to Halla, the latest offering from Finnish outfit i Helvete. As the days shorten and the grey chill proper seeps into your bones, this isn’t just an album you put on; it is an environment you step into.
Black metal carries a certain weight of history, a pedigree that can easily become a millstone around an artist’s neck if all they’re doing is copy-pasting 1993. But i Helvete isn’t interested in simple nostalgia. Halla takes that classic, freezing-cold foundation and infuses it with a melancholic, progressive depth that feels tailor-made for this exact time of year.
It is as if they looked out of the window one day, saw a passing storm and wondered: What would that sound like if we captured it on record?
Turns out it would sound exactly like Halla.
There is a starkness that runs throughout that captures the feeling of being battered by the elements, torn apart and reshaped as the world around you howls with despair. It isn’t a constant assault by any means—i Helvete are far too gifted as songwriters to simply rely on constant blast beats and buzzsaw guitars—but there is a theme of utter desolation that weaves a thread through Halla that cannot be ignored.
It feels like you are lost. Snow blind. Weather beaten. And utterly without hope. It is ugly, tragic, sad, and glorious all at the same time.
It is impossible to ignore the musicianship on offer. The way the guitars blend together are seamless acts of aggression that can switch from the sense of ultraviolence looming over you to reaching inside you during their more introspective moments, and pulling your fucking heart out.
The bass is used as a weapon. One moment it is trying to remove your head from your shoulders as it bludgeons you relentlessly, the next it is laying down a run that will have your mouth open, questioning how something so complex and beautiful can be coming out of a black metal album.
The drums are the constant. The reminder that this is not just a record but an act of nature. Pummelling and relentless when needed, progressive and, at times, downright funky when you least expect them to be.
And the vocals are the sound of being lost in the eye of the maelstrom. They roar, they screech, they dive, they let you know that you are doomed, but it’s alright to be because they will lead you to the edge.
Ultimately, Halla succeeds because it understands that true black metal doesn’t need to be a mono-dimensional wall of noise to be terrifying. By allowing progressive textures and genuine emotion to breathe alongside its most savage moments, i Helvete have crafted a record that lingers long after the final frostbitten chord fades out. It’s an immersive, bleakly magnificent journey that rewards anyone willing to step into its frozen grip.
So when the frost hits the glass and the darkness rolls in early, put this on, pour yourself something strong, and let the storm take over.
Halla is out now.
