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support Arkæon + Kikimora
author AP date 16/02/23 venue Basement, Copenhagen, DEN

My concert plans were well and truly annihilated by a lengthy bout of sickness and work travel in late January and early February, which meant that I was pretty stoked about getting out to my second show of 2023 at last this past Thursday. Topping the bill is a Scottish avant-garde black metal group who have been receiving lots of hype and rave reviews during the past year or so: Ashenspire. And given that this year, unfortunately, I will have to miss out on my otherwise annual trip to Roadburn, where the band is set to perform, this evening’s festivities serve for me as kick-off for the slew of artists from its line-up, who will be playing gigs in Copenhagen over the course of the coming spring as well. But before the headliners take the stage, there are two domestic acts previously unknown to me to appreciate first, starting with singer-songwriter Solveig Korsgaard Roseth, who performs under the moniker of Kikimora.

Kikimora

As soon as Roseth has emerged on stage and begun her set, I’m immediately reminded of the concert Midwife delivered at the 2022 edition of Roadburn. Her guitar riffs are muted, the mood in her songs equally so, though compared to Madeline Johnston, Roseth’s singing is much more in the classical style as opposed to the whispery, Billie Eilish-like vocals of the former. Thankfully the audience here is respectful and remains almost completely silent throughout Kikimora’s 40-minute performance, allowing her voice and the subtle drama of her lo-fi neofolk to envelop the raw confines of this venue and send people each on their own contemplative, inner journeys. Indeed, the very concept of time seems to dissolve in the presence of Kikimora’s evocative voice and lyricism, which she delivers in a mixture of English in the likes of “Devour” off her 2018 EP “Aporia”, and her native Danish in some of her unreleased new songs to which we are treated. It is pretty remarkable how effectively Kikimora is able to bind a hundred or so grizzly metalheads under her spell with her voice and plucks of melancholy guitar as her only tools, and I’m left with nothing but admiration for her arresting show tonight. It’s low-key, yet full of grit and feeling.

Arkæon

The contrast between the opening act and this Århusian trio could hardly be starker, a fact made obvious by the ashen stripes running across their eyes and the iron chains hanging off drummer Nohr’s kit. They unleash a barrage of chaotic black metal lightning that conjures melody from the most aberrant and atonal note combinations, and features some genuinely discomforting vocals by bassist Antonius. He is shredding his strings with such intensity one of them snaps in the end of the opening track, resulting in a few awkward minutes of silence that, unfortunately, suppress the tempestuous atmosphere the three musicians had just managed to build. Mishaps do happen of course, but it feels like Nohr and guitarist Zarnak should have done something, anything to fill the void whilst their colleague attached a new string to his axe. Be that as it may, it does not take long for the band to restore the raw intensity of their initial salvo, and it soon culminates in track three: “Smertens vilje” off their début album “Parasit” from 2022. It is the perfect example of the harrowing vocalisations that Antonius utilises from time to time — not so much growls or shrieks, as howls and bawls of anguish that also contort his face into a series of unsettling expressions. And then total silence ensues once again, as he bends over to tune or possibly adjust his pedals, which in turn results in phones being unsheathed and loud chatter erupting throughout the venue while people are waiting for the show to continue. Frankly, these abrupt interruptions to what is otherwise a compelling set make it seem a bit amateurish — a fact that is nonetheless forgotten whenever the trio’s frenetic, yet well-written songs are actually being played. Arkæon showcase themselves as adept songsmiths capable of writing black metal that is quite unique thanks to the speed, dissonance and jagged dynamics that characterise their music. Some more continuity in the show itself would have done wonders though.

Ashenspire

As the familiar opening notes of “The Law of Asbestos” off Ashenspire’s 2022 sophomore album “Hostile Architecture” are played, I’m surprised to find they’re without a violinist. I cannot say whether this is their usual live configuration, but to my relief, this is not an absence that wreaks any sort of havoc on Ashenspire’s musical expression tonight. On the contrary, the group’s music sounds even rawer and even more chaotic in the live setting than it does on the aforementioned album, with Rylan Gleave, who's handling the vocals instead of Alasdair Dunn, who's manning the drumkit tonight, in particular adding extra frenzy to the band's raving vocal delivery. In my review of the record, I described his style as a kind of thespian, black metal poetry reading, and my impression is only strengthened by his antics on stage. He is an absolute menace here, waving his arms and frequently allowing his voice to break as he rails against social and political injustices, bringing the drama and tension of the ensemble’s music to life in spectacular fashion. The band’s performance is exactly as intense as I had hoped and expected, and the crowd, which has been quite subdued up until now, is feeding off that rage and responding with violently banging heads, horns in the air, and thunderous roars of approval in between the songs.

But although, as on record, it is unquestionably Dunn who plants himself into the spotlight, it’s not like the rest of the band are mere supporting actors. Bassist Gerald Chau, for instance, often dives into the crowd to deliver his rumble from the floor, while the remaining instrumentalists surge and recede from the stage edge as thought they were threatening to attack us. Indeed, the dissonance of Ashenspire’s music is translating perfectly into the concrete confines of Basement, with “Béton Brut” in particular achieving a whole new level of meaning in this context. The echo off the venue’s walls makes it sound even more claustrophobic than it does on record, and one cannot help but assimilate with the anxiety embedded into its lyrics, particularly when Gleave delivers the wrenching lines: “I wasn’t born in fear, there’s no self-loathing in my genes! But from when I could hear, I heard the hereditary, the poison of misogyny! An amateur wavering, thrust traversing the tripwire of masculinity”. As I also said in my album review: you feel everything and nothing all at once, watching this band’s showmanship unfolding before your eyes. The set is brought to a conclusion by “Cable Street Again”, with its brief and false moment of respite and incredible violin-dominated crescendo, which is reinterpreted here with saxophone, and judging by the long-lasting applause, I’m not the only one who’s been struck by awe. The hype surrounding this band is without a doubt fully justified.

Setlist:

• 1. The Law of Asbestos
• 2. Apathy as Arsenic Lethargy as Lead
• 3. Béton Brut
• 4. Plattenbau Persephone Praxis
• 5. Tragic Heroin
• 6. Mariners at Perdition's Lighthouse
• 7. Cable Street Again