Release year: 2024
Label: Misantropia Records
Now that’s a tongue twister. Zvjerovanje. I mean, it’s not as insane as Polish, but that’s still too many incompatible consonants at the start of the word. But I guess that’s Serbo-Croatian for ya. Apparently, the serbo-bosnian word translates approximately to “beast belief”, and Zvijer means beast.
Many of the track titles on the album are also in the Bosnia and Herzegovinian duo’s native tongue. Which, coupled with the rather obscure and ornate fonts used in the covers, makes for a tough time to decipher stuff. Well, it’s not like I’d understand jack shit of it anyway. Which is why it’s nice that both the track names and lyrics are translated into English in the booklet.
Zvjerovanje is the group’s third album, and you can hear it. These guys know what they’re doing. Their take on black metal is scarcely original, but it is competent and solid.
In a nutshell, I guess you could describe Zvijer’s sound as traditionalist. The foundation of their sound is in the now-classic second wave sound, which means a lot of buzzsawing guitars, faster blasting sections and rough, violently rasping vocals. But it doesn’t end there; Zvijer also utilize a lot of slower and mid-tempo tempos, add atmosphere aplenty with clean and choral vocals, throw in discordant riffs in carefully measured amounts, and so on.
The end result stylistically is that they land in that hard-to-put-your-finger-on territory of familiar yet not. There’s nothing especially original or innovative here, and yet you can’t namedrop any particular artists or sub-styles of black metal they’d sound like. And let me tell you, for a reviewer, this is very annoying. I guess if I were to drop some references, it would go to the newer crop of equally traditionalist acts from Norway; in a similar manner, Zvijer utilize familiar, tried-and-true elements to craft their sound, but refuse to be limited by self-serving pastiche and nostalgia.
When I think of an adjective to describe Zvjerovanje’s atmosphere, the primary one is lycanthropic. The album does not resound with the cold and dark of winter, nor with the majesty of Satan’s mysteries, nor with vampiric nocturnal malevolence. No, this album is replete with the primal, urgent power and bloodlust of the beast – appropriately for a band whose name means just that – and the visceral, physical magic of bestial transformation. In vocalist Knjaz’s hoarse, violent screams and his dark lyrics, which combine apocalyptic visions and rural mysticism, the wolf-beast makes itself heard.
The one flaw worthy of mentioning on Zvjerovanje is its slight sameyness. The tracks sort of blend into each other, into a somewhat gray mass from which no track stand out for better or worse. I’ve got more than a dozen listens under my belt at this time, and even so I can’t really tell this track from that. Of course, in part it is the undecipherable names and lyrics, but it’s not just that.
That is a flaw, undeniably. But all things considered, and looking at the album as a whole, I don’t consider it too severe. The overall standard of the album is solid judged by any aspect, and despite not being able to tell the songs apart, the album isn’t trite, uninteresting or boring. In fact, quite the opposite: clocking in at 50 minutes, Zvjerovanje is a long album. But it doesn’t overstay its welcome.
Only Death Is Real 