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support Gaia
author AP date 24/04/24 venue Pumpehuset, Copenhagen, DEN

I’ve always felt ambivalent about the Faroese doom and melodic death metal group Hamferð, but that all changed with the arrival of their new album “Men Guðs hond er sterk” last month. The record is not only their best by a long measure, but also a masterpiece of the genre, as far as I’m concerned — and as such, I’ve been looking forward to experiencing the material from it played live for the first time at one of the three release shows booked for it across the Scandinavian region this month. Admittedly, it is somewhat disappointing to discover that the six-piece will be performing on the smaller downstairs stage at Pumpehuset when I arrive — but at the very least this decision ensures the room will be packed for what I’m hoping will be a special moment in this elusive band’s repertoire. The audience must wait just a little longer, however, as first, we are to be treated to a warm-up set by the local doom crew Gaia.

Gaia

I’m somewhat surprised to see this Danish psychedelic doom and drone metal band emerge not only without their bassist Morten Christensen, but also with an additional guitarist and an effects alchemist bolstering Mark Jensen on the drums and Kristian ‘Kriller’ Andersen on vocals and guitar. This fresh configuration yields a quite different experience than when I last saw Gaia live back in 2016. It seems to be a presentation of their 32-minute composition from 2022: “Tilblivelse”, which begins with a glacial, meandering build-up, in which the drums do not even enter before some 7 minutes of cosmic ambiance have passed. As strange, synthesised sounds and harmonic notes swirl around the venue, a cynic might like this initial segment to testing the crowd’s patience, but in reality, I’m convinced that the idea is to help listeners ascend into a trancelike state perfect for receiving the heavy, transcendental music that otherwise fills the span of this monolithic song. When Jensen finally lays down an atavistic rhythm, the ambience unfurls into dense guitar chords that mesh with bits of snarling throat singing by Kriller, and incanting chants by the new (or possibly substitute?) guitarist on the left. In between these vocalisations, the two musicians seem to become possessed by the ancient forces they are conjuring, twisting and turning in the throes of musical ascendancy.

The second half of the set compels the four musicians to adopt a more direct approach — if one could ever label Gaia’s take on doom as direct. Kriller and his partner-in-crime’s riffs take on a more stoner metal character, while Jensen’s drumming grows more insistent, ushering in a crescendo that lumbers on for more than 15 minutes and brings forth deranged yells, growls, and some mantric singing by the two axemen from the droning instrumentation. In the grand finale, Kriller collapses to his knees like a modern-day Prometheus at the altar of his own making, teasing out a cacophony of feedback from his prostrate instrument as he operates his effect pedals by hand. As the four musicians murmur apologies for their absent colleague and retreat back into the shadows, the crowd is left in a state of perplexed silence, contemplating whether this haunting and hypnotic performance weren’t a bit too droning and elusive in the context of warming up for a band of Hamferð’s nature?

Hamferð

Hamferð’s concert begins with the titular, spoken word piece “Men Guðs hond er sterk” from the band’s latest studio album, in which an old man reminisces about a whaling disaster that claimed the lives of 15 sailors from keyboardist Esmar Joensen’s home village of Sandvik in 1915. It sets the scene for an evening focusing on the record, and thereby a painful piece of Faroese history for which grandiose, heart-wrenching doom metal seems the perfect musical accompaniment. One by one, the six musicians emerge from the shadows and unleash their crushing opening track “Ábær”, which has the entire band lined up in stoic, mournful stances, as vocalist Jón Aldará recounts the storm that took all those lives through a mixture of deep, gorging growls and dramatic singing against an instrumental backdrop that lurches, churns, pummels and soars with absolute despondency. It is impossible not to be utterly captivated by Aldará’s vocal prowess — a prowess that is often hinted at when he performs with Iotunn, but which he only truly unfurls in Hamferð. His growls, in tracks like the following “Í hamferð”, are as deep and cavernous as trenches on the ocean floor, his singing an epic and powerful tenor that booms over the dense and turbulent instrumentation like the anguished wails of a captain sinking with his ship. There is a grave elegance about his showmanship too, standing motionless with his eyes closed and neck arched, a statue of sorrow while this standout song swells and verges into black metal territory in the end.

The show ebbs and flows between the abyssal depth of tracks like “Stygd”, taken from 2018’s “Tamsins likam”, and more serene studies of melancholy such as “Glæman”, which whispers into existence with quiet, sullen guitar notes and soft, forlorn singing. Indeed, it is a show that smothers the audience with miserere, but also offers moments of respite in which to sink our shoulders and breathe out, if only for a few minutes. Hamferð thus succeeds in painting their tragic imagery with all the violence, terror, loss and grief that it entails — a penchant that is perhaps best illustrated by the standout piece “Marrusorg”, which strikes awe into the crowd like claps of thunder, but also delivers passages in which you could probably hear a pin drop onto the venue floor whilst Aldará sobs his lyrics into the microphone he’s hunching over. I’m sure I’m not the only one with chills running down my spine during this song, a sensation that repeats itself countless times during the performance, not least in the devastating crescendo that brings “Fendreygar” to its conclusion. As the lengthy set nears its own finale in “Hvølja”, Aldará enters into an astute tableaux, allowing the spotlight to shift onto his five compatriots in order to showcase their cohesive mastery during this formidable behemoth of a song, which underscores that while Aldará’s stunning vocal range forms the core of Hamferð’s allure, the instrumental parts created by guitarists Theodor Kapnas & Eyðun í Geil Hvannastein, bassist Jenus í Trøðini, drummer Remi Johannesen, and the aforementioned Joensen on keyboard, are just as vital to the band’s expression.

A sea of horns rises from the audience as Hamferð return for an encore and deliver a trudging take on the title track off their 2013 début offering “Evst”, while the final song of the evening, “Harra Guð títt dýra navn og æra” from their 2010 EP “Vilst er síðsta fet” inspires the crowd to join in song, a communal voice in powerful solidarity with the harrowing account told through this concert. It is a profound journey through both the depths of human emotion and the often bleak beauty of Hamferð’s native archipelago. A show that opens, but also attempts to heal a national wound through musical expression.

Setlist:

• 1. Men Guðs hond er sterk
• 2. Ábær
• 3. Í hamferð
• 4. Stygd
• 5. Glæman
• 6. Deyðir varðar
• 7. Marrusorg
• 8. Rikin
• 9. Hon syndrast
• 10. Fendreygar
• 11. Frosthvarv
• 12. Hvølja

— Encore —

• 13. Evst
• 14. Harra Guð títt dýra navn og æra