Watain - The Agony & Ecstasy of Watain (Metalcore)

In certain metal circles, there's a long-standing belief that the true posers are those who try too hard to be noticed by the crowd. The lowest common denominator. It's sound enough logic: we've all encountered such individuals or, dare I say, "noticed" those individuals at some point in our rather exciting lives. Casting judgment upon those so desperate for approval that they are willing to literally sell out for money and fame is, after all, what the entire purpose of black metal is and why the genre was founded in the first place. And if this is truly the mindset we adopt, then surely it applies universally, right?

Enter Watain — a band that seems to embody the very definition of trying too hard to fit in. For years now, I've tolerated this Swedish ensemble with a sort of bemused indifference, occasionally laughing at their antics or ignoring them altogether. Their rise to prominence, first as darlings of the so-called "Orthodox black metalcore" scene, and now as contenders for the title of "the next big thing in nu-black metal," has been impossible to ignore. Yet I've always been perplexed by the seemingly astroturfed fervour surrounding them. After giving their much-praised (by the media) albums a listen, I was left even more perplexed, unsatisfied by the generic, vanilla, trend-hopping output they've been oh so celebrated for. Watain, in short, has always felt like the Britney Spears of black metal — manufactured, overrated, and unworthy of any form of attention whatsoever. But, like a glutton for punishment, I decided to give The Agony & Ecstasy of Watain a chance, hoping against all logic that maybe this time they'd live up to the hype. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Watain is back, proudly waving the banner of try-hard black metal poserdom, offering up yet another steaming pile of trend-chasing, shallow drivel — this time aptly named The Agony & Ecstasy of Watain. A name that really should have been a warning. Lyrically, they achieve a level of melodramatic absurdity that brings to mind Pantera, Dark Funeral and Bullet For My Valentine, stretching mundane ideas into laughably overwrought pseudo-occult nonsense. This is not black metal, this is not even metal, nor is it even good music period. What we have here is essentially the black metal equivalent of elevator muzak — a byproduct of bored musicians with seven-string guitars making monophonic fart noises into a laptop, uploading it to the Morsay scene zone, or wherever else, and somehow getting signed by the clueless hacks over at Century Media... or Nuclear Blast, since Century Media "severed ties" with Watain over their guitarist doing "sieg heil" salutes. The cheap graffiti-style album art, which looks like it was stolen from a freaking Warkvlt album, and the "blackened metalcore" tag promoted by Pitchfork should have been a clue.

The music itself? Utterly soulless. Every part of this album feels calculated, pandering to the lowest common denominator in the metal scene: the mallcore mosh pit drunkard. The songs are constructed like a bad focus group experiment, where every cliché of the black metal genre is thrown together without any cohesive vision. There are sections of pointless shredding, designed to impress would-be guitar heroes who can't discern mindless noodling from genuine musicianship. Then we have the predictable high-BPM sections, presumably to show that Watain is still "angry" about something, though these bursts of speed sound more like watered-down Morbid riffs than anything resembling genuine black metal. The obligatory keyboards and synths are shoehorned in, aping the style of Dimmu Borgir and Cradle of Filth, offering nothing but generic video game score atmospherics slapped onto staccato guitar chugging. And, of course, no modern faux-black nu-metalcore album would be complete without the dreaded breakdown — a tedious, lumbering moment where the tempo grinds to a halt, inviting bored fans to shuffle about in a gay mosh orgy.

There's no emotion, no depth, no artistic integrity here. The Agony & Ecstasy of Watain feels like a soundtrack for awkward social gatherings among the unwise, a sonic backdrop for vapid interactions. It's the musical equivalent of brain rot, eroding IQ points faster than any dubious deathcore-related pastime you can think of, whether it's huffing paint or the more mundane"smoking weed every day, bruh." I wouldn't inflict this level of banality on my worst enemy. If you care at all about the future of black metal music, or even humanity's intellectual progression, avoid this album at all costs. File it alongside other black metal atrocities like Antekhrist, Fallujah, Mayhem's later work, and the most recent offerings of My Dying Bride. Simply put: steer clear of the turdish agony. For once, the name was well chosen. The Agony & Ecstasy of Watain is really an agony on the ears.

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