Dactylis Glomerata

After Candlemass released the underrated gem "Chapter VI," things kind of fell apart. I can only assume after that album didn't receive the praise the Messiah-era albums did, they decided it wasn't worth trying to pick up the pieces anymore and called it quits. Everyone did their own thing for a while, and Leif Edling came up with Abstrakt Algebra. However, upon wanting to create a second Abstrakt Algebra album, it was asked for him to rework it into a new Candlemass release. "Dactylis Glomerata" is the result of all of that. The first album with the Candlemass name in half a decade brings a VERY different style than anything traditional fans might be used to. But different doesn't mean bad by default, does it? Well, no. But this one still isn't great.

Leif is armed with an entirely new band than all previous albums. Michael Amott, who had already formed Arch Enemy when he recorded this album but had not seen it hit its peak yet makes an interesting addition. Vocalist Bjorn Flodkvist's very different voice helps cement the bands new identity, and Jejo Perkovic rounds out the group on drums. Carl Westholm plays a big part with his keys on this album, and he must have struck a tight bond with Leif with this one, because he'd perform keyboards for a TON of his releases in various bands after this album.
"Dactylis" is incredibly 'of its time,' and I personally don't think has aged well at all unless you're pretty specifically into the niche this album presents. Most of what you'll find on this record is very distorted, grainy, experimental tracks. Many songs have a lot of space where instrumentally everything just...floats around. The structure and songwriting is more random and disjointed which fails to give it any sort of real identity. Lots of metal in the mid to late 90's was doing this sort of thing. For the most part, "Dactylis" is really lacking in the bone-shattering riffs that Candlemass thrives on.

"Dustflow" and "Apathy" absolutely demonstrate this the hardest. "Apathy" greets us with a stellar bassline, like is usual for Leif, and some interesting percussion. However, the guitars are just holding strings one-note long and just distort it to the max besides the solo. It honestly makes me feel like there's an insect of some kind that's near my ear. The vocals have that dripping kind of distortion that makes the singer sound like he's in water. If you're well versed in metal, you've heard a million bands make a song just like "Apathy" when they went through their 90's 'experimental' phase. "Dustflow" is the same sort of material, but gives the whole band a bit more of a chance to shine. Once again, you have a very cool bass part that feels like a waltz over the rest of the track. The keys do the best they can to give you a 'floating in space' aura, and the guitar parts are solid enough. There's an okay track somewhere hidden in this song, but the bloated 9-minute runtime combined with the fact that it needed something like a tempo change or a new riff somewhere in there to spice it up makes the song just plod along.

While those two songs are the ones I'd consider the most mediocre on the album, "Karthago" is the highlight. The song kicks off with a heavy, pounding riff that is far more akin to what Candlemass has made their legacy on. This track is what the whole album should have been like to me. It's without a doubt very different than their previous releases, but just the riff alone gives enough of a connection to their previous material to let you know what you love is still hovering inside. The keys go on to harmonize with the chorus riff to give a chilly, haunting-type feel, and Bjorn's vocals are filled with torment and pain to complete the sell. The middle of the track features a lot of what I talked about in the previous two songs, but here, it's done right. All of the atmospheric material is there just long enough to get the mood across, but doesn't overstay its welcome. While "Karthago" reigns supreme on this one, album opener "Wiz" sets an incredible pace. It writes a check I wish the rest of the album justified cashing. In this instance, the quicker tempo makes the grainy guitar sound biting. "Wiz" is a great head-banger, and the aggression it hammers into you makes it one to go back to very often. Bjorn's almost 'grungy,' rougher style of vocals are a perfect fit with the full-speed-ahead nature of "Wiz." All in all, this tracks really clicks and showcases the best of what this lineup was capable of.

On the other side of that coin, "Abstrakt Sun" is where the album truly showcases all of its flaws prominently. To call the vocal melodies weak would be an understatement. They're bored sounding and don't really even try to have any semblance of a pleasing quality to them. The guitar work is beyond awful, with this whining, high pitched squeal that goes absolutely nowhere and just pierces the ears. The entire drum beat is just smashing the crash cymbals over and over and over again. The song seems like unstructured noise and disjointed patterns where no one is trying to compliment or work with each other. It's like if you put all of the instruments in a washing machine and let it run. Everyone is doing their own thing with no mesh or flow. You can definitely refer to this track as an 'experimental' one, but it just makes me cringe for the entire runtime.

"Dactylis" was without question supposed to be the start of a new identity for Candlemass. I have no doubt this album was the one that was meant to 'modernize' the band and get them 'with the times.' Little did they realize, though, that everything they attempted on this album had already been attempted and done better by many other artists by the time this was made. They wanted to get a new identity with this album, but at the end of the day, released a record without any identity at all. Even though Candlemass is now (at time of writing) back to their roots, they'd still have one more attempt in them to right the ship and maintain the course for their new identity that this album started.

The black sheep of the Candlemass family this one? Absolutely. However, before you start vilifying and slaughtering it, let’s take a closer look at the circumstances surrounding this lamb… and if we do that, we’ll find out that it simply doesn’t belong to this family. The foster fathers were blackmailed into adopting it… yeah, tragedies of soap saga-sque proportions are not exactly strangers to the metal circuit, ladies and gentlemen. They’re a not very common phenomenon but do pop up from time to time… to add spice to a heavy shredding routine, mind you; not much else.

Cause once upon a time Candlemas was a happy family, happily married (1984) and happily divorced (1994), a wedlock that lasted for a good part of ten years; one that tolerated a few wild cards (Messiah Marcolin) along the way, but one that solidly thrived under the watchful gaze of Leif Edling, the father figure, the man who kept the Candlemass saga marching onward to success, fortune, glory… success again…

however, once the tides changed, the man didn’t find it necessary anymore to keep the family members together. The times had become ripe for something more abstract and more mathematical, and here’s how Abstrakt Algebra appeared, Candlemass’ more volatile less doom-prone sibling, one that also saw Edling adding a gifted new member to the family, the axeman Mike Wead (Hexenhaus/Memento Mori, King Diamond/Mercyful Fate later). The father generously ignored the fact that said Mike had previously teamed up with the denounced son Marcolin for the Memento Mori stint, but a shredder of such a calibre should be forgiven such shortcomings… after all, Edling was looking for a suitable associate to head the newly-sprung power/progressive/doom metal wave in his homeland, a strong statement of that last intent being the Abstrakt Algebra debut.

A promising new enterprise? Sure thing, with only one small detail missing: Edling had to receive the blessing of the other chiefs of the Swedish metal mafia; without their signatures this endeavour would remain just an isolated spell, buried in the annals of the Swedish underworld. During the fateful meeting in early spring in 1998, the man didn’t get green light for this project; the godfathers couldn’t see why Edling would be looking to branch out into other ventures instead of prolonging the existence of its main child, the one and only Candlemass; the scene simply looked barren without the presence of the kings of doom… they had to be brought back but not side-lined by some capricious algebraic foci. A confrontation was looming on the horizon, which prompted Mike to pack his guitar and abandon the Abstrakt camp; he wanted no trouble with the powers of the day whom he almost instantly pleased with two albums, one from the Hexenhaus (“Dejavoodoo”) and one from the Memento Mori (“Songs for the Apocalypse Vol. IV”) camp, both pretty good, faithful to the mentioned wave.

A very sad development for Edling who was left betrayed and desperate, with more than half an album completed, waiting to be released under the Abstrakt Algebra moniker. As this initiative wasn’t an option anymore, the man found it beyond futile to go to war as a lone wolf, he had no choice but to shoot as Candlemass again… only that he would use the already composed material; he would add a few more tunes and doom… sorry, boom, he would satisfy a wide gamut of humans, not to mention the always-devoted Candlemass audience. For the purpose, he decided to team up with another Mike, Ammott, another talented guitarist who had gathered a fair bit of notoriety earlier, largely for stirring an early-90’s Carnage on the Swedish scene and promptly fleeing to England right after, in order to escape the inevitable death sentence. However, his biggest crime was that he left his motherland for the Isles only to shoot the local favourites Carcass to stardom; an unpardonable sin in some people’s eyes… a sagacious businessman, the guy exonerated himself by offering two lucrative outfits upon his return from exile, the stoner/doom feelgooders Spiritual Beggars, and the melo-death metal cohort Arch Enemy; and before you know it things were back to normal.

Yep, you can’t make a mistake betting on such a prominent, also controversial, figure and this collaboration swiftly became a fact. The cross-carved skeleton, or the skeleton-ornate cross, from the debut was smacked at the right bottom side of the cover, and the two luminaries were ready to go… the Candlemass saga would receive another go, yeah! “Joy to the world, the kings have come…”; it doesn’t matter that Christmas was still far away, the metal world was celebrating the return of the legends with all Christmas carols re-written and adapted for the occasion. Under the joyous circumstances, any chances for Marcolin to be lured back? Are you kidding?! Take this complete unknown, the name Björn Flodkvist, and stick him behind the mike… he should do the trick.

And the man does the trick on all counts, holding his own with a steady, not very emotional baritone, perfectly fitting the belligerent rhythms of the opening “Wiz” this one not exactly vintage Candlemass but not a bad inauguration at all, with echoes of the guys’ step-sisters (of) Mercy. However, the doom-laden tactics are only a few minutes away and here comes “I Still See the Black” to paint everything in black rolling stones… sorry, colours and to shatter the foundations of all shacks around. Too tenebrous this antediluvian hymn, and some brightening of the horizon becomes necessary but not by much as the 9.5-min saga “Dustblow” is a psychedelic dreamy, but not overly optimistic quasi-doomy melancholia, a seductive hypnotic parade that doesn’t bring too much abstraktism to the already larger-than-life menu. Bigger adherence to the doomy canons would only be beneficial, and yes, this is exactly what “Karthago” delivers, intimidating ship-sinking doom at its finest. You can’t mess with the masters, even the unpromisingly-titled “Abstrakt Sun” steps aside in veneration serving spacey balladic, oblivious doomisms merging with the similarly-styled but more minimalistic “Apathy”, before “Lidocain God” shows some bite with more energetic rhythms, the band trying to exit this opus in the way they started it, with more verve and passion.

Hm… what the hell has happened here? This by no means sounds like a customary Candlemass album, but it doesn’t bear too many resemblances to the Abstrakt Algebra outing, either; the ambitious progressive power/doom metal layout of the latter is only ephemerally present, mostly as a side-dish which may as well remain untasted. In fact, this approach to song-writing is more abstract, the psychedelic cloud is thicker, the hypnotic therapy is more lasting, and when you add the renewed interest in doom on at least one third of the material, then this recording is more of a new direction taken than a faithful sequel to anything Edling has come up with previously. It’s not hard to detect the mentioned third, it’s clear that “I Still See the Black” and “Karthago” have been written later with the Candlemass repertoire in mind, the other songs coming as one interesting psychedelic progressive doom/rock/metal package that certainly smells something both spiritual and beggary…

so this second Mike did put his signature under these tunes; it was kind of good that he didn’t stick around for another spell… nah, nothing too embarrassing, mind you, good music all around only not packaged with the Candlemass fanbase as the prime target. The heavier doomy material was apparently added to daub the eyes of the big bosses who were eagerly waiting to hear how their investments had been spent… and they must have been left satisfied with it as Edling survived; and not only but he was given more finances for another Candlemass album, one that deepened the doom without completely phasing out the psychedelia, the man coming even closer sound-wise to his idols Black Sabbath. Flodkvist was here again, happy to lend his vocal cords for another spacey transcendental ride… his last corroboration with Edling as the Candlemass saga came to another end early in the new millennium.

Krux was the name of the new offspring, Edling simply can’t sit still, just looking at life passing him by… this was an outfit closer to the doom metal idea, and one that miraculously survived even after the Candlemass family got re-married, marriage nearly made in heaven this time, with even Marcolin showing up for the opening ceremony, the self-titled masterpiece. The experimental chapter from the band’s discography seems to have been closed for good, the steam-rolling doom-foreboding machine has been moving onward without fail ever since… no algebra, no geometry, no half-cooked spells in Latin… let’s stick with the doom, and leave the mathematics and the obsolete languages for the university students.

When Leif Edling lay Candlemass to sleep after Volume VI, no precedent existed to suggest that the Swedish epic doomsters would reawaken several times over the years. Turning his hand to other projects, such as the relatively doomy Abstrakt Algebra, Edling’s arm was twisted to return his attention to his most successful project by industry hands in Music for Nations who knew that the Candlemass name alone would guarantee better results for Dactylis Glomerata. Perhaps the incredibly familiar packaging (the same skull appears from the cover of the debut) meant that more records were sold and a few backs were patted, yet every Candlemass fan knows that this is the point where the group’s legacy was besmirched and that the same style of output from the late ‘80s never returned, member changes notwithstanding. This does not sound like a Candlemass album, nor does it sound like a mere tangent – Dactylis Glomerata is another kind of music entirely.

Due to the recording first being made as an Abstrakt Algebra release, the divergences from the doom metal formula (forget epic doom entirely) can be quite severe, something that guides around half of the songs on the album. One notable factor is that a hefty dose of psychedelia turns up here, which also found its place in supplying the spacey elements of the more coherent follow-up From the 13th Sun. I can see how some people would be able to trace that psychedelic influence back to Hawkwind through Black Sabbath and thus confirm it as part of a doom metal agenda, but feels like a reach when keyboards are often at the ready and ‘Apathy’ sounds like a secret shrine where Marilyn Manson’s fondness for David Bowie is revealed, along with a taste for Peter Steele’s poetry. Admittedly, ‘Dustflow’ – the album’s longest song – spirals off into dreamy synthesizer twangs as its second half lopes along on a repeating riff, though nothing in the Sabbath canon ever hinted at such an ambition.

Barring the psychedelic elements, other weirdness crops up in the shape of two much quicker and more abrasive songs that share more in common with post-hardcore than doom metal. Conspicuously, one still goes under the name of ‘Abstrakt Sun’, proving how much Edling’s other project differed from Candlemass: that song sets out its stall with aggressive ‘60s guitar strumming like that found on the debut of 13th Floor Elevators, which transitions through another quiet atmospheric verse to discordant single note riffing that puts me half in mind of Glassjaw. However, the sense of unease that the keyboards generate faintly in the background really skew expectations, as does a decent punky break in the middle, seeing Björn Flodkvist shouting as the guitars squeal. The closing section of the song picks up on the backing ambience and exits in eerily spacious manner. As such, ‘Abstrakt Sun’ comprises something totally different from the band and comes across a great deal better than ‘Lidocain God’, the other fast song on the album and essentially a disjointed part two of ‘Abstrakt Sun’.

Doom fans terrified that Candlemass entirely missed out on their raison d’être for Dactylis Glomerata may not find solace in learning that I find the doom songs much less interesting than the experimental cuts. ‘Wiz’ constitutes the expected fast-paced opener to the album and finds it adequate to speed up some riffs from Sabbath Bloody Sabbath while pinching Tony Iommi’s solo technique wholesale, yet things really hit bottom rung when ‘Karthago’ finds even more basic ways in which to rip off Sabbath and couples that with being entirely forgettable. Of greater reassurance is ‘I Still See the Black’, which forms a stronger link to the staple Candlemass sound of crawling riffing that carries with it a sense of momentum and stateliness. The pick-up of energy after the second chorus corresponds with a solid effort from Flodkvist, not to mention the masterstroke of allowing him to gently intone the pre-chorus over synthesized bells. Unusual, unexpected, and astoundingly effective when the main riff piles back in.

From a purely Candlemass perspective, Dactylis Glomerata was rather set up to fail, since it delivers almost nothing that a fan of the band’s earlier work expected or desired. In the bigger picture, however, some of the experiments attempted more or less stuck the landing and prove interesting digressions from the latter day “Leif Edling formula” of solid slow doom with charismatic vocals. Even the kooky little aside ‘Cylinder’ has me crooking my ear to catch the stripped down sound of an orchestra playing, quite possibly, from an original wax cylinder recording. Therefore, regardless of the sense of impropriety Dactylis Glomerata bestowed upon the Candlemass name, I view it more as the weird cousin of the family than as a knife-wielding intruder - freaky, often ignored and maligned, but part of the family nonetheless.

Stranded without music and with a riff from the excellent 'Ancient Dreams' pounding insistently through my head, I ducked into a CD shop and came out with Dactylis Glomerata. I'd never listened to the album before and while I knew it wouldn't stack up to such awesome stuff as 'Cry from the Crypt' or 'Epistle 81', I was curious to see how it compared against Abstrakt Algebra 'II' and other such Lief Edling material.

Well, it was a huge disappointment. The album largely consists of inferior takes of Abstrakt Algebra songs, burdened with an ill-fitted heaviness that Edling's (initially thoroughly apologetic, later brazenly defensive) liner notes suggest was imposed as a condition of the music's release. The riffs are boring and the songs seem cheaply built around a binary structure that leaves them over-familiar nearly as soon as they've begun. Of course we all understand that it was impossible to retain Messiah Marcolin but the vocals here are really dire - monotonous chanting with the occasional grate for emphasis. Some actual singing with even a hint of a possibility of a variation in pitch might have made this a sad, but listenable 60%.

'I Still See the Black' might have been passable, were it not for the shocking keyboard sound that heralds the transition from mordant (if mindless) doom drudgery to apparently some kind of faery picnic. Not impressed. Similarly, 'Dustflow' seems to promise some kind of epic acoustic voyage with a shreddin' denouement and instead we get an interminable buildup with no release and some very naive lyrics about children playing. No thankyou.

On 'Molotov', Edling's league of captive musicians creates what really should have been the new Candlemass sound (a good example of a tendency I can best describe as 'Road Warrior') before applying some godawful phase distortion that brings home the fact that yes, this is for whatever reason a terrible album.

I tend to view all latter-day Lief Edling - Candlemass projects with mixed feelings; Krux has its moments and new, Rob Lowe-era Candlemass, while by no means as intelligent as it once was, is okay. This album is execrable and I pity anyone who bought it without the bonus copy of the Abstrakt Algebra 'II' album which is at least interesting and original. Basically it's not Candlemass and it's a pity the band elected to allow its release as such.

There are a number of albums in which a band writes when they are not considered "In their prime." I often end up enjoying a majority of these albums, and Dactylis Glomerata is no exception. Though how this came to be known as the weakest Candlemass album bewilders me. Perhaps that's because this isn't just Candlemass. Dactylis Glomerata features mother fucking Michael Amott from Carnage, and that alone makes them a super-group in my book. Unlike the usual wandering focus of most doom songs, the Swedish death influence keeps this album nice and chuggy, low, and groovy on every single track. Most of the doom mongers would likely disagree with me when I say that simple, repetitive groove elements should collide with doom more often. I however think the evidence is clear that they should. Dactylis Glomerata, Monotheist, Nature Red in Tooth and Claw, Weight of Light, and countless hardcore influenced sludge albums such as the various works by Pelican demonstrate that simplicity and being primitive is doom's friend. Has the title of Candlemass not produced a number of legendary albums for the last 23 years? It has. What, then, should cause such a remarkable album to be overlooked? Is it the uninspiring cover art? Is it the weak pride and population of metalheads during the era in which this album was produced? Is it the lack of a truly operatic vocalist?

Though the vocals are not technical or operatic at all in comparison to former vocalist Messiah Marcolin, they are respectfully harmonic, and emotional. Upon it is layered a wall of abstract sounds, and tones, as the keyboards take up a lot of the instrumentation and mix in this album. Perhaps this is not only the most keyboard heavy album by Candlemass, but also the best performance on the keyboards by said band. Each of these sounds accompanies the progressive nature of Dactylis Glomerata. Ultimately, the alternative/progressive movement had a great impact on the writing on this album, or more specifically, the vocals.

This extremely successful progressive turn was carried through to the next album, From the 13th Sun which unfortunately does not feature Michael Amott. Thus, Dactylis Glomerata will forever remain a one of a kind album; a sound that will never be reproduced by Candlemass and probably nor by any doom band to come. I recommend this album to anyone who's heard more than a few doom songs. This isn't just for Candlemass fans only, though it's not the proper album to be introduced to them with. Anyone with a taste for primitive, soulful, raw doom metal is obligated to hear Dactylis Glomerata. This is probably one of the best albums to come out in the late 90's period. Candlemass will forever be remembered by me as one band who stood strong through the "dark ages" of metal. This all factors up to be worthy of the 99% mark, titling it the king album of 1998.

Dactylis Glomerata was Candlemass' comeback album after Leif Edling decided to break the band up after Chapter VI. Before Chapter VI was released, Candlemass's long-time vocalist, Messiah Marcolin, had left the band and Chapter VI was a very different kind of album from it's predeccors and, as almost always when band's music style changes, not as popular as their old albums. What attracted me to this album was the fact that the guitar spot on this album is handled by one Michael Amott.

As I said, Dactylis Glomerata isn't that much doom metal as the band's previous works. Sadly so, since Candlemass made some of the greatest doom metal albums back in the day. Most of the epic feeling is lost too. But there are other things making up for the lost things. For example the starting song 'Wiz' rocks more than most of the songs Candlemass did before (rocks as in being rocky, not as in being better than something else). It is also very catchy with a Black Sabbathesque main riff. The next song, 'I Still see the Black', leans more in the classic doomish Candlemass style as does 'Dustflow'. 'Karthago' combines a Black Sabbathish riff with a doom metal song and 'Abstrakt Sun' has a doomish feeling but mostly it sounds more like a rock song than metal. 'Apathy' is a moody 'Planet Caravan' meets 'Electric Funeral' and 'Ludocain God' is one again a rocking, a bit thrasy even, song in the vein of 'Wiz'. What I'm trying to say here is that the album is varied, a bit patchy even, but Leif Edling has managed to keep it all together.

Though most old Candlemass fans don't find the album good, it is still worth a shot. The material ranges from good to great (seems like Edling can't even compose anything poor) and it features some great guitaring by Michael Amott (don't expect anything like Arch Enemy or Carcass, more like Spiritual Beggars) and some interesting use of the keyboards by Carl Westholm. Mostly he stays in the background, proving some atmosphere adding effects while other times coming into the front with a scifi soundind lead (beginning of 'Dustflow'). Björn Flödkvist is a good singer too. He's no Messiah Marcolin when it comes to operatic vocals but he provides some good traditional vocalizing and he does have a lot of emotion in his voice.

The main reason why Dactylis Glomerata sounds so different from other Candlemass albums is that some of the songs were supposed to appear on the second Abstrakt Algebra (Edling's other band) album but MFN weren't going to sign them, though they were willing to sign Candlemass. So Edling hastily founded Candlemass again and took the drummer of Abstrakt Algebra with him. Surprisingly though Dactylis Glomerata doesn't sound like Abstrakt Algebra's self titled album. I still recommend to all fans of Black Sabbath and doom metal but if you want to check out Candlemass, I suggest either Nightfall or Epicus Doomicus Metallicus over this one.