I have always been intrigued by the funeral doom genre. It is a musical style generating vibes which are mystical, otherworldly, mysterious, enigmatic and at the same time sober, atmospheric and mournful. Pretty much the sort of stuff that has always drawn me to sounds which operate miles away from the mainstream.

A Genre Grown Stale

Unfortunately, the genre also has some inherent characteristics which have alienated me from it over the years. The one thing I find difficult to reconcile with my restless soul, constantly seeking new musical thrills and unexplored horizons, is its unrelenting minimalism and repetitiveness, relying on simple power chords and minor keys with little of no tempo fluctuations. While other genres have embraced experimentation and expansion, doom metal and its subgenres has overall held on to a certain pride in being insular, different than the rest and therefore less likely to allow mixing with other genres.

Despite my growing disinterest in the genre I sometimes find my inner funeral doom fan awaken by a new, unexpected discovery. Such a recent discovery, is the prolific Icelandic one-man project Dauðaró. I have pondered for a long time reviewing one of its records, but have been struck time and again by the difficulty of the simple task of choosing just one record to review. You see, this is not a common project. Dauðaró has something like 18 full-length albums and counting, not to mention a Pleiad of other projects by its mastermind Jón.

I have therefore decided to pick three albums for review, all of which different enough from each other and yet containing all the elements which I found exciting and interesting about this project.

Flæði

(8.5 / 10)

I am making a start with Fl​æ​ð​i. This is a purely instrumental ambient record consisting of a 42-minute synth based soundscape which has an uncanny ability to take you on a journey through ice-cold tundra’s, glaziers and extinguished volcanoes. This is ambient of the highest order: introspective, meditative and devotedly focused on the cause, just like most records in the surprisingly consistent discography of the one-man band. The composition is full of variety without ever losing its ability to expand on Northern atmospheres, avoiding unnecessary repetitions while at the same time creating its own timeless space where it operates. As far as ambient music goes, it can barely get any more effective than this.

Freskur

(9.2 / 10)

Next on the list is Freskur. A solemn, atmospheric organ fades in, perfectly introducing the scene for this record. Guitars and drums are gradually making their presence felt, increasing in volume and intensity as we are now heading towards a more familiar funeral doom approach. However, this is not your typical funeral doom one-man project. The music has a mysterious, appealing ambiguity to it. It’s dark, yet hopeful. Oppressive, yet dreamy. Melancholy, yet triumphant.

Icelandic artists such as Jóhann Jóhansson and Sigur Rós come to mind, not because they sound similar, but because they also have this ability to create music which sounds literally out of this world: strange, yet attractive. Disturbing, yet beautiful. The music is in no hurry to introduce vocals, and when these finally come in the dissonant, organ driven Sléttan, they sound as if they have been recorded in the same intergalactic abyss where the rest of this album has been spawned by a race of other-dimensional aliens.

Once the colossal title track kicks in with the most unusual ambient sounds, you can only embrace the unpredictability of this unconventional record. The vocals become more prominent, the guitars more dissonant and the 35-minute journey on which you are taken is strange, nightmare inducing and yet somehow -in that typical ambiguity- relaxing. The distorted choirs on final track Kvöldstund are rekindling these sweet nightmares and believe me, listening to this as I’m writing this review in the early morning hours, puts my mind in danger of succumbing to the strangest visions and naturally induced psychotropic experiences.

Kyrrþey

(9 / 10)

Last but not least is the album Kyrr​þ​ey. The beautiful, ambient organ at the start is now deceiving, as this is easily the bleakest, most oppressive record of the three. The punishingly slow funereal beats create an aura of desolation and despair, often taking you to unexpected, dissonant territories. Jón proves to be a rather versatile vocalist too, choosing a deep grunting approach this time rather than the otherworldly distorted whispers in Freskur, an approach which can easily compete with the likes of Tyranny in terms of depth and brutality.

However, where Finnish doom has the ability to take you to earthly vistas you didn’t even know existed, Dauðaró takes you to different planets altogether. Cold, desolate and uninhabitable planets, I must add. The end of this record finds you suffocating and gasping for breath, a state that only a good funeral doom album can induce, proving that the genre still has the ability to grab me by the throat after all.

Conclusion

So where to start with this project and its 18 albums? Perhaps start by listening to these three records to get into the overall vibe. If this is your jam, then I suggest you buy the whole digital discography of this artist and get yourself hours and hours of musical enjoyment of the type of music which can induce an out-of-body experience.

Jón is an extremely generous person so who knows, he might even hook you up with Bandcamp codes for extra albums of other projects you weren’t even aware of. And yes, the other projects are equally consistent and fascinating in quality, suggesting that its creator is an other-dimensional mythical alien after all; because I refuse to believe that a human being can be so prolific and yet so consistent, creating beautiful darkness while operating within the boundaries of the strangest, most minimal musical genres.