Invocator
Weave the Apocalypse

The historical context of thrash metal circa 1993 was not a good one, as barring a few holdouts that were largely based outside of the continental U.S., the scene that largely billed itself as the credible alternative to the more decadent mainstream rock/metal scene in drag was lumped in with said scene and kicked to the proverbial curb. Naturally there are always exceptions within the capricious world of changing trends, but the advent of the Seattle scene, coupled with the one-two punch that was the commercial obsession with Metallica's eponymous fifth studio offering and Pantera's Vulgar Display Of Power, the possible routes for a thrash band with roots in the mid to late 1980s, even if on the more innovative side of the stylistic spectrum, were extremely limited. Standing somewhere between the two paths of conformity to the groove metal craze and the still somewhat present progressive strain of thrash in Europe stands Denmark's own Invocator and their second studio LP Weave The Apocalypse, an album hailed by many as a daring technical affair in a time where such albums were scarcer than gold-pressed latinum, yet dismissed by some as a lame attempt at commercial pandering after the heels of Pantera and Exhorder's respective 1992 outings. The truth naturally lays somewhere in between these highly polarized perspectives on what one might dubbed one of thrash metal's more controversial swan songs. To say that this album was not the product of a heavy degree of influence by the same groove metal craze ushered in by Pantera and Metallica would be ridiculous, as a few seconds worth of the deep-chugging character of the guitar sound and the overall dry, thudding feel of the production reveals a sound about as close to a direct ripoff of the one that overtook the former band's sound the minute Terry Date took over the mixing board. Likewise, vocalist Jacob Hansen (a future production/engineering powerhouse in his own rite) finds himself adopting an attitude-drenched gruff sound that is dangerously similar to Phil Anselmo's approach on Cowboys From Hell, though without the Ian Gillian meets Rob Halford shrieks and a somewhat thinner texture that's kinda close to Vio-Lence's Sean Killian at times. Then again, the commonality with this mainline groove approach breaks down when considering the elaborate and occasionally incongruous riff work, pointing to a remnant of the technical influence the band took from Atheist on their debut album, not to mention a lead guitar assault that is closer to a classic Alex Skolnick sound than a direct nod to Dimebag Darrel. The bizarre and highly abstract album art that graces the cover of this stomping machine of punchy grooves and through-composed songwriting leaves little doubt that this album, though perhaps betraying a false affinity with the still active death metal scene, is a modern affair that defies what one typically considers thrash metal. At its core, it still embodies all of the essential traits of the style from a sort of gray, early 1990s perspective, but it comes off as a bit schizophrenic due to a heavy emphasis on rhythmic complexity and sudden shifts in feel that give off an impression of meandering. It's sort of an odd contradiction given that most of these songs clock in at under four minutes, but overall these songs tend to feel quite long given the lack of a clear point of cadence or anything really resembling a hook. Certain individual offerings such as "Through The Nether Of The Sun", "Desert Sands" and "Breed Of Sin" remind the most of a more mainline early 90s thrashing approach and even kick in the afterburners, but constant fits and starts continue to remind the listen of what year this album was made. Yet for the most part, the ebb flow of these songs is best embodied in the slow-trudging thuds of down paced groovers like "From My Skull It Rains" and "Land Of Misery"; nothing overtly bad per say, but definitely lacking in the sort of frenetic energy that tends to work better with the elaborate riff work being employed. Given the slim pickings that were still available at the time of this somewhat stilted experiment graced the shelves of record stores, there is a temptation to throw the unsung classic label at it and heap it with praise for bucking the anti-metal trend of the mid 1990s, but the musical reality of this album tells a very different tale. This runs more along the lines of an above average compromise between what originally made thrash metal great and the inferior form it was compelled to take for a few years, resulting in something that is difficult to fully embrace for anyone with a proclivity towards either style. It is by no means a terrible album, and often impresses with its technical chops and flashy riff work, but for all of the high points it showcases it never really closes the deal leaves an impression of lacking closure. It is all but wholly a product of its time, and will probably appeal mostly to the small contingent of thrash metal fans who discovered the style in the early 90s and stuck with it after Metallica's commercial breakthrough dropped, paving the way for short-lived outfits such as Solitude, Gack and Dearly Beheaded. Anyone expecting a high-impact thrashing affair in a more technical variety will be better served by this band's debut Excursion Demise and Atheist's early offerings.

Sophomore album from these Danish masters of technical thrash.Not as good as the debut but definitely worth listening!