From the first listen of their second album years ago I’d never had an easy time describing Nijmegen, Netherlands-based musician Omar K.‘s work in Iskandr and it seems it’ll only get more difficult (to sum, at least) as we begin to draw jagged lines in connecting the dots between medieval-minded atmospheric black metal and the sonorous psychedelic neofolk/post-industrial style he has introduced here on the project’s fourth full-length album. ‘Spiritus Sylvestris‘ is stated as a step towards the cinematic, storytelling of a different order in vivid images per an aura which isn’t so drastically unrelated to that of where the artist had left the culmination of past events. More importantly the experience is intended as an elementally stirred funeral dirge for what the planet has lost thus far during its slow and steady heat death wherein a far-gone fate sealed and the acceptance of the end both tie into this ominous and intelligent work.

‘Spiritus Sylvestris‘ consists of four roughly ~6 minute pieces and one double-length dirge set in the middle wherein a dark neofolk sound which points to early martial industrial/post-industrial work from Laibach and the ethereal setting of Dead Can Dance as basal inspiration for texture and presence as the album begins to reintroduce Iskandr to likely different ears, or the odd open mind. The mood is tragedian but not stark to start as “Kndagend Zout” features a reverb toasted beat (with additional percussion from cohort M. Koops) as a lush but still severely lain foundation. Cold but not dissociative Swans-esque vocal harmonies linger in the periphery along with a Hammond-esque organ and the general bap of their dreary, tragic scenery is set. Not exactly ‘Masse Mensch Material‘ in terms of keeping it simple but a similarly immediate feeling that reads as complex and increasingly distant from its subject. There is a dance to this song, almost whistled onto the floor by the introductory riff and the waltz of the beat which escapes the expected nascent touch of this type of music as artists often mistake cold and flat movement for emotional severity.

Iskandr receives us with a warmth and despondent sincerity which is nothing short of nihil but, communal in its dread extending another hand back to the festivities with “Waterwolf” the post-punk, eyeliner worthy gloomer of the lot and though it doesn’t come with a vocal hook but rather a mellotron driven back-beaten melody which sends the piece off. The mood is thick and effective for what it is conveying though the layers are nearly as interesting with deeper tuned guitars and puddling waves of vocal echo distorting the space the song occupies. If nothing else ‘Spiritus Sylvestris‘ has made a quick physical connection with its hypnotic rhythms and affected vocals, all of them in Dutch of course. This piece in particular feels like its cadence is likewise rooted in something shoegaze-attuned, the sort of alt-alt early 90’s indie key changes that’d swerve in many directions.

It is a grand first showing and certainly a dire surrealistic set of images when taken in but we do eventually hit notes of darker post-industrial and ritualistic ambiance soon after (“Hoor het Smeken”) as the tone of the album turns from communal mourning to something more introspective, darkly dramatic in its hike across the mountain of the self. As we hit the baritone groaning of “Hof der Valken” here we find the biggest gambit in terms of introducing this new sound to folks who’ve certainly got the attention span for this length of song but might not manage the patience for the payoff in the last couple of minutes.

There is yet another side to Iskandr‘s travels, this invoking of the elemental essence of existence as it is sparked into carbon, but this moment doesn’t come until the end and we’ve got a five minute interlude to prepare use for it. “Interlude”, eh, sets us in the late morning peace of the forest hitting a few arpeggios on an effects-washed acoustic guitar and a droning synth and that is about as simple as it gets despite the very loud warmth of the piece. I’d struggled with this forced sitting to start but the groaning strings and resting noise of it does make some sense after the numbing dirge of “Hof der Valken”. Consider it an introductory trance for the arrival of the forest-folken, Hammond humming psychedelic folken rock beats of the ‘When We are Death‘-feeling closer “Nachtvorst”. As it hits the mood could easily be felt as jubilant, marching to an early 70’s stride from a Manzarek-esque tap to its transitions. Think of it as protest rock era post-industrial and from the folks who brought you Solar Temple‘s latest jam. It is a strangely spiritual high to go out on wherein the piece grows increasingly devotional in its organ grinding towards the sixth minute just before the flute/mellotron and layers of phasing guitar overtake the point of landing. Consider it the song that plays as they begin to clear out the funeral reception.

So, is it worth remembering what Iskandr was before ‘Spiritus Sylvestris‘? Yes, of course their unique vision of atmospheric black metal only seemed to be on the rise between ‘Euprosopon‘ (2018) and the brilliant ‘Vergezicht‘ (2021), both of which I’d praised on high in the past. This new work is of course something entirely different without too many steps to ease the shock yet the temperament of the artist is not mutilated here, nor made soft by the heavy sentiment that went into these pieces. Where many would’ve likely stumbled unprepared through a record in this style on a whim every bit of this release is thoroughly considered and believably felt for its complexities and otherwise straight-forward appeal as darker-than-usual folk rock music. Oddly enough I “get” this new aspect even more than their last full-length upon introductions, something worth mulling over with its gloaming moodiness left on repeat. A high recommendation.

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