Is it the beer, the double-cooked fries or the frikandel? Who knows, but there's definitely something going on in Belgium that is prompting it to be such a fertile cradle for some of the best post metal being released in recent years.
Pothamus are undoubtedly part of the crew of bands putting Belgium on the map when it comes to the post metal, alongside the revered Amenra and Brutus as well as Pelagic Records label mates Psychonaut, Hippotraktor and Briqueville just to name a few. Having been a band for a little over a decade by now, Pothamus have been patient in establishing their vision, having only released their debut full-length Raya as recently as 2020 (that’s still recent…right?) which was warmly received for its esoteric, “ritualistic” approach to sludgy post-metal.
Now comes the hour of the treacherous sophomore album with the release of Abur, which begs the question, what more does Pothamus have to offer to their meditative yet crushing approach to the cinematic sub-genre of post-metal? Well, first and foremost, Pothamus who have so far built their reputation on crafting an extremely immersive and hypnotising sound, especially in a live setting (as anyone who caught their 2023 Arctangent performance will confirm), are as entrancing as ever on Abur and double-down on the ritualistic, mantra-like aspect of their songwriting.
Abur achieves this partly by feeling more vocally-driven as a record in comparison to Raya, especially with a newfound, broader range of vocal styles, some of which surprisingly wouldn’t sound out of place on a Wardruna or even Heilung song, most notably on tracks like ‘Ravus’ and ‘Ykavus’ where murmured, devotional-like vocals reminiscent of Amenra‘s quieter introspective moments transfigure into soaring calls that evoke something more ancient, primal and ancestral.
This new emphasis on vocals is due to drummer Mattias M. Van Hulle also taking up vocal duties alongside guitarist Sam Coussens who previously was the sole vocalist of the project. It becomes immediately apparent that Abur greatly benefits from the broader possibilities this change in dynamics brings to the table as it allows quieter, meditative tracks like ‘De-varium’ and ‘Ykavus’ to seamlessly flow with more aggressive cuts like ‘Savartuum Avur’ (perhaps the most “classic” post-metal track of the album) and merge with each other throughout the rest of the album, where primal guttural barks coexist in harmony with evocative, soothing calls and chants, often acting out in call-and-response.
One other major new inclusion that elevates the band’s spiritually-inclined approach to their sound is the addition of the surpeti (or shruti box), an instrument originating from the Indian subcontinent that can be traced back to ancient times, whose purpose is quite literally to guide mantra singing during meditation or prayer with a steady droning of the player’s choice of notes. Unsurprisingly, the surpeti’s inclusion takes the spotlight during Abur‘s most contemplative moments with ‘De-varium’ and ‘Ykavus’, the latter being perhaps the best condensed example of Pothamus bridging the gap between post-metal and neofolk on this new album.
While Van Hulle’s percussion work sounds more tribal and ritualistic than ever before to match the album’s intent, Michael Lombarts’ bass truly shines when it comes to life, building a rich wall of cavernous fuzz, a foundation as solid and deeply rooted as the ancient immemorial times Pothamus‘ music evokes, to sprawl and develop upon throughout Abur‘s run-time.
With a little bit of digging, it becomes clear that Pothamus have surrounded themselves with the lexical field of water and the idea of “flow” is often mentioned to describe their music. As cheesy or unoriginal of an analogy as it may be, that is precisely how Abur both acts and feels as a record, from its source, through both peaceful streamlets and raging rapids as it builds up towards its fifteen minute titular epic where all hell breaks loose in one last cathartic, hypnotic mantra before being dispersed into the vastness of the sea to become something else entirely, carried along by currents new. But that will be up to Pothamus to figure out where they go from here in the future.
To summarise and answer the question asked initially, Abur‘s biggest novelty and surprise is how well it succeeds in merging post-metal and neofolk together seamlessly, to the point where it becomes neither quite one or the other, it is a new organic vision of both musical worlds into one. With Arctangent having previously made the bold move of booking Heilung as headliners in 2023 and now Wardruna to headline their opening Wednesday later this summer, it feels as though a midway point between two seemingly unrelated music scenes is being created, where previously the association mostly existed through inter-changing audiences, albeit in separate spaces.
Regardless of stylistic leanings or levels of intensity, post metal is generally associated with the idea of a “journey” through its cinematic soundscapes and the scopes of various album concepts, from Cult Of Luna‘s exploration of deep space and cold barren landscapes or The Ocean‘s geological journey through the formation of our planet, Abur most certainly succeeds in taking its listeners on a journey through sound, drifting upon waters that feel as old as time, recounting the ancient origins of mankind and the civilisations and beliefs lost along the way.
