Metal curiosities Klabautamann return with Merkur, an ever shifting tapestry of enigmatic folk, gentle acoustic prog, and fiery black metal shrieks. It’s not quite “avant-garde” (they use a collage of generally recognisable sounds, rather than forging something entirely new), but it sure as hell throws you off-guard, and keeps you there.

I recall from Aaron’s review of Der Ort, Klabautamann’s last album from 2005, that he regarded comparisons with a certain Swedish prog-death band as both lazy, and appropriate. It’s true; whilst it is immeasurably tedious to throw attention-grabbing taglines at Merkur (“the black metal Opeth!”), the comparisons don’t go away. To some extent, the appeal of both bands lie in the same places; Firstly, the “rambling story” approach to composition, in which trains of thought emerge and are discarded, with less regard for song structure coherence than for the simple joy of finding a new musical idea. Then, there is the mysterious glee that both bands find in the relentless juxtaposition of “darkness” (i.e. harsh metal) and “light” (i.e. gentle acoustic) passages. But that emphatically does not tell the whole story. The musical palette here is much wider, culminating in something that is far harder to get a handle on than that of Opeth, and in many ways, more threatening. That’s in spite of the relatively large proportion of the record being assigned to “gentle” ideas.

For me, the record that this seems to have most in common is Fleurety’s arcane early black metal classic, Min Tid Skall Komme, an album that must have influenced countless bands but seems to have very few direct successors. This, though, is a shimmering 21st century spin on those ideas. Like that album, Merkur can’t really be described as a whole. Instead, you have to see it as a journey through the orrery of the influences of deeply eclectic musicians. Some elements resurface time and time again, of course. The staple black metal is rapid and abrasive, again reminiscent of early Fleurety. That hasn’t changed too much from 2005’s Der Ort, although quantity-wise it has probably been reduced (although some tunes such as Herbsthauch are based almost entirely on it) and quality-wise it is now multidimensional; inflected with cleaner elements that give the toner deeper colour. Importantly, as indicated above, their other elements are here developed with far more depth and care. Whereas in the past, for all their strengths, I found their often-changing sound occasionally cluttered, this is focused and even beautiful. Different timbres and time-feels are opened up for experimentation with an effect that can be emotive and haunting (no less so than with the Rosemary’s Baby-style nursery rhyme that comforts the album in its dying breaths).

Particular highlights include the anarchic and oppressive title track, with its hyperactive, unsettling rhythmic drive, agitated shrieking noises, and a surreally smooth drivetime jazz-pop breakdown. Stygian returns extremely effectively to more familiar Klabautamann territory, with grimy metal riffs intermingling with warm, clear ripples of clean guitar. Then there is the angular and jarring Der Wald Ist Ein Meer, which trudges slowly through sullen metal stomps and romantic, ethereal flutterings.

Ultimately, this is a really strong record, that moves further away from Klabautamann’s black metal background and towards progressive and unpredictable realms.