Sinisthra's music is a little hard to describe because (1) there's so much going on in it and (2) its rich textures are woven with such elegant, creative coherence. Few bands blend hard and heavy with softer moments as dynamically and organically as Sinisthra does, moving from powerful riffage to gorgeous, lighter melodic passages seemingly effortlessly, seldom predictably. Using minute sonic detailing, including a staggering array of effects, the transitions from one tone to another occur in a variety of ways: as a surge, slide, explosion, or the giddy thrill of suddenly finding yourself suspended in mid-air. Enhancing the sense of congruency is the fact that heavy passages are touched with ethereal elements, and quieter moments are subtly intense--points of contained power, charged with palpable emotion.

Whereas many groups labeled melancholic romanticize or celebrate emotional suffering, Sinisthra exorcizes it. Seldom, if ever, has romantic pain, disappointment, and disillusionment been expressed so effectively, avoiding the kind of over-the-top themes and language that can make the "suffering" seem de-personalized, lessening its impact. Pathos and compexity distinguish Sinisthra's emotional content, and are conveyed through varied musical tones, brilliant lyrics, and an amazing singer. Tomi Joutsen has a rare gift for expressing intense feeling. Whether passion, pain, or a mixture of the two, emotions are articulated with perfect levels of forcefulness and with sophisticated nuance.

One of Sinisthra's most distinctive features is its guitar sound, usually a dual attack coming across as one big, fat guitar. It doesn't just sound heavy; it FEELS heavy--as if there's physical weight to it, slamming into your gut with precision. And that's what you hear/feel at the beginning of the cd, as "Coming Up Roses" bursts out with an aggressive, sawing riff. This is the most predominantly heavy song, swinging at times into only slightly lighter parts that have a cool stateliness, which is accentuated in the instrumental closing moments.

Such heightening occurs in most of the songs, as textures are added and emotion builds. This is especially true of "Ice Cube Sun," an incredibly tight track, whose majestic opening riff is mirrored in an explosive chorus where the band rocks hard on the head of a pin, and Tomi Joutsen belts out "and you melted on my tongue" with fierce relish, increasing the intensity as he roars through the rest of the lines. On the melodically complex verses his smoother delivery is equally masterful, while the music makes punchy switches back and forth between heavy and delicate. The song's contrasting styles and tones match the lyrics' dilemma over whether to resist the urge to drown in absinthe, a seductive substitute, perhaps, for an intoxicating but failed romantic love affair. In an elegiac coda that's pounding and ethereal at the same time, the debate rages on, as Joutsen, blending wistfulness and agony in a double-tracked near-whisper/scream, repeats "I should STOP," accompanied by massive guitar blasts and effects--some trippy, some haunting--and gentle keyboards, which eventually end the song with a spare outline of one of the main riffs.

The use of loud/soft dynamics is particularly inventive in "Unrevealed," which moves from a subdued, keyboard-based opening to verses where well-timed interjections of that powerful dual-guitar provide emphatic punctuation in lines delivered with soft vocals, followed by a refrain that sweeps you away with its full, heavy sound, including some cool orchestral elements. The ending features major power chords topped by lilting effects, for a very regal trail-off. Despite all the attention drawn by the musical stylings in this song, the lyrics are a huge focal point: some of Sinisthra's most memorable lines occur here, and are welded beautifully to the music. You'll find yourself succumbing to the sing-a-long-ability of "You make my skin crawl / as you crawl under my skin" (set to a highly catchy melody), and swooning over the deliciously drawn out "You are burning holes in me / you're where you've always been."

Another of the standouts on this cd, the gorgeous "My Sweet Nothing," is also the quietest song. No heavier musical elements are needed, as this track's power is derived from emotional intensity. Describing a suicide dream, the song focusses not on the act itself but on the aftermath, dwelling on the most mundane details, as if to highlight the insignificance of the person's life (and death), especially to his lover, whom he believes "won't remember me anyway." The dispassionate perspective and exquisitely understated lyrics create a stronger emotional resonance than a more melodramatic approach would, an effect that is intensified by the intricate melody's shattering beauty and the perfection of the vocal--dreamy, restrained, wounded, resigned. Tomi Joutsen wraps his voice around the words with care and craft, bringing out the subtle power of lines like "When I wake up it is still dark . . . or is it dark already? All this may not hit you on a first listening (and I've mentioned only some of the levels of meaning and musical details in the song), but definitely will grab you by the heart at some point.

Demonstrating that Sinisthra's knack for balancing emotional and stylistic contrasts extends to the art of song-sequencing, "My Sweet Nothing" is followed by the aggressive, bass-driven "Fucking Fragile," which, after a churning opening riff, winks at the listener with the line "I'm still here." Similarly, a wide-eyed open invitation to rejection is expressed in "Fearless Under the Falling Sky," based on the conviction that since "the sky has fallen so many times before," knowing it will happen again braces the would-be lover for the experience, while the next track, "To the One Far Away," deals with an overwhelming awareness of loss. The contrasting themes in these songs are complemented by the music--oozing sweet naiveté (perhaps to an excessive degree) in "Fearless . . .," frantic-sounding in "To the One Far Away."

Another cool contrast occurs in the final two tracks, where closure on the emotions explored in the foregoing songs is found through philosophical perspective in "Innocence . . . in a Sense" and through (not so) pure attitude in "Completely Incomplete." One of the strongest songs on the album, "Completely Incomplete" features massive, crashing, amazing guitar work, great breaks, and brilliant vocals. As always, heaviness is dynamically balanced with softer sounds, in this case a bristling jazziness, and the combination matches the lyrics' projection of cockiness, self-mockery, and giddy anticipation. Perfect as an exhilarating send-off, this song worked equally well as a brashly assertive opener on Sinisthra's last demo.

Sinisthra isn't afraid to cross boundaries in order to create the sound they need, which makes their music hard to categorize. But as artists and fans know, a band's music and listeners' individual tastes are ultimately defined not by genre or subgenre, but by style and other less tangible factors. People who want ONLY relentless aggression might not be comfortable with Sinisthra (especially in those rare moments when beauty is replaced by mere prettiness). But "Last of the Stories of Long Past Glories" has a lot to offer for fans of bands like Katatonia, A Perfect Circle, and Green Carnation. On the surface, these groups are quite dissimilar to each other and to Sinisthra specifically. Even Katatonia, to whom Sinisthra most frequently draws comparisons, differs in significant ways--Sinisthra's music, for example, is way too energized to warrant the term "chill metal," which describes Katatonia's entrancing music so aptly. What these bands do have in common are rich, lush textures, strong emotional qualities, potent blendings of beauty and power, heaviness and sophistication--major sources of Sinisthra's appeal.

written by Maud

Playing time: 44.44