Black metal used to be about icy feelings — depression, hate , borderless self-expression. I, for one, am quite glad that black metal musicians have discovered that having material that can actually be grabbed on to is beneficial. I wholly welcome the rise of blackened traditional metal, which Tubal Cain and Slime Abyss fall into nicely. Immediately, the band make me want to like them, as they check a lot of my boxes. I have ranted in the past how focusing on influences from beyond the genre is the ideal way to construct a black metal album, and Tubal Cain focus on classic metal riffs from the realm of thrash, trad, and speed metal. I have also mentioned that, while I am often not too fond of female vocalists in death metal, the higher register of their voice can lead to an authentically evil shriek in black metal and Kristine Drake does a formidable job here. The main thing reminding us of black metal are those shrieks and parts of the production, that focuses on higher registers and guitars in trebly standard tuning.
Drawing freely from their influences, Tubal Cain know how to write both melodic material, like the first two tracks, and more speed and thrash-oriented ragers. The hymnic approach used in the more melodic tracks serves a beautiful contrast to the harsh sound the band is going for and it is those tracks that really showcase what the band is best at. It seems like they are aware of it, too, as even the faster tracks regularly slow down to groove-oriented and melodically-tinged trad metal riffs. What I am unsure of, however, is whether Tubal Cain should potentially drop one for the other. While I appreciate when Slime Abyss speeds up occasionally, it also runs the risk of making songs seem a bit like a collage. It doesn’t help that the album ends somewhat uneventfully. “The Winds of Limbo” quotes Ronnie James Dio as much as it does ’80s butt rock and serves as a little breather before the closer “Drifting to the Black Sun”. But that song unfortunately just doesn’t feel like a closing note to the album and neither does the song preceding it feel like it sufficiently sets up anything. It is rare for me to say this, but I might have preferred if Slime Abyss were a little longer and went a little harder just before it finishes — maybe on one final, hymnal chorus.
Despite my reservations, I can’t deny that the sound just works. Something about the blackened aesthetic smoothes over what I often find too corny, too honest, and too pretty about modern traditional metal and makes it not only palatable, but enjoyable to me. Slime Abyss is an album of minor flaws that works in its broad strokes. This is the type of album that, despite a lower score, might make a return late in the year and sneak up on my list.
