Though it’s only been a year since Xibalba, the debut full-length from shadowy cinematic black metal entity Ershetu, dropped, there have already been a few major shifts. Vocalist Lars Are Nedland (Borknagar, Solefald) has now departed, leaving Vindsval (Blut Aus Nord) to take over vocal duties as well as bass and guitar. More noticeable is that their focus has shifted to the east, leaving behind Mayan rituals of death and sacrifice and moving towards Japan’s indigenous religion Shinto. The fact that the band continues to focus on the culture’s rites and mythos surrounding death remains intact, however, and colours not only the instrumentation and composition but also the atmosphere of the record as a whole; if Shintoism as a philosophy views death with a degree of acceptance, so too does Yomi reflect a sound that has its roots in black metal but has a soul that is as calm as the surface of a pond on a midsummer afternoon.
Utilising instruments like koto, shamisen and shakuhachi alongside more typical metal instrumentation, one of the things that immediately becomes apparent is the incredible breadth of scope that Yomi possesses. ‘Ketsurui’ opens with a scene of pure tranquillity, delicately plucked strings and the faint howl of the shakuhachi evoking images of torii gates and sun-dappled forests, and when a flurry of blastbeats and soaring tremolo tears through, Vindsval’s icy howls following closing behind, that scene only becomes richer and more vivid. As a narrator, Vindsval is ideally suited to works this grand in scale, switching between screeches and a sonorous baritone, while Intza Roca’s drumming is lively and direct, an energising force that keeps these sweeping compositions rolling along at a keen pace.
‘Jikoku’ initially feels like a much wilder beast, leaving out many of its predecessor’s atmospheric embellishments and opting for a more traditionally metal sound. In doing so, it highlights Sacr’s considerable skills as a musical renaissance man, taking the koto and shamisen and, rather than using them as set dressing or sticking to traditional techniques, he makes them part of the chaos. The strings provide a sharp, bouncy counterpart to Vindsval’s soaring riffs and allows for a dizzying range of sound. ‘Sekiryō’ flips back yet again, it’s martial beats and ghostly chants like the soundtrack to the dead’s steady march into the underworld, a feeling only deepened as it collapses into guttural doom and a final, kaleidoscopic swirl of moans, percussion and a sense of fever-dream unreality.
The sound of temple bells and chants of the sutras open ‘Abikyōkan’, punctuated with harsh, metronomic drumbeats, and as the tempo ramps up, engulfing that earlier idyll, it’s like a dust storm has swept through. With Vindsval’s increased visibility on this record, it’s undeniable that when the band fully embrace their black metal heritage that echoes of Blut Aus Nord (especially the glorious strains of the Memoria Vetusta records) do surface, but the strength of composition always keeps Ershetu feeling very much like its own entity. The beauty and violence here are much more earthy, less the bliss of the starless void and more an embrace of nature and of humanity’s role within it, and ‘Abikyōkan’ is a shining example of how these disparate threads can be brought together so neatly.
While ‘Kagutsuchi’ proves an enjoyable ride, delivering some of the album’s most driving and playful melodies alongside some truly dazzling koto work from Sacr, it’s closer ‘Nenokatasukuni’ that proves to be the album’s most ambitious work. Taking its name from the Shinto underworld and counterpart, or possibly synonym of, Yomi, it’s a vast and sprawling piece even within an album rife with them. This has drama and flair, fire and fury and moments of meditative stillness, and it feels how a journey into the underworld should feel. The furious percussion and the rich, sweeping riffs all feel geared towards the epic, a desire to depict something momentous using earthly tools, and if that description seems a bit lofty then it’s only in keeping with the ambition that the band demonstrate.
Taken as a whole, Yomi is a work that strives not for greatness but for a singular otherness, a thanatological exercise in savage musicality. There are moments that will feel familiar to anyone versed in modern black metal, and aficionados of Japanese music, Shintoism and anthropology will likely find plenty here to argue amongst themselves about, yet it remains a worthy follow-up to Xibalba, a feat made even more impressive by the short time between the two. At the hands of mastermind Void, Ershetu are becoming one of the most exciting forces in modern black metal – who knows where they might take us next.
