REVIEW: BURZUM 'FALLEN' (BYELOBOG)

It's interesting how prolific Varg Vikernes is now he has to pay his way again instead of mooching around at his majesty's pleasure, perfecting the soap flick with his toe to avoid bending down, and interesting how much of that music is rooted in his classic albums, ie, the 'black metal' he claimed to hate, now that unit shifting makes a difference. If his career wasn't dependant upon being so 'controversial', he'd probably have started recanting on his heinous politics in exchange for magazine coverage – but luckily he doesn't have to, he only has to allude to a shift in his worldview for people to keep projecting some sort of narrative onto his mediocre music.

While 2010's 'Belus' was deliberately provocative, the original 'White God' title released knowing the kind of furore it would receive, and the concept of a god's descent into the underground the sort of laughably transparent metaphor that teenage goths fill their blogs with, 'Fallen' isn't obviously a headline grabber or a declaration of his own messianic brilliance, but he has indicated that it's more personal and the title, 'Fallen', along with some of the song titles are teasingly reflective. That's more than enough to fill pages of print and avoid talking about the actual music - so chalk up one small victory for image management.

Superior to 'Belus' and less repetitive, it's nevertheless clear that as an active entity, Burzum has been outpaced by the bands he inspired – they don't sound nearly as old, creaky and confused. Hummable riffs, frantic tremolo frotting and better production are marred by some odd moments – the tinny galloping riffs of 'Budstikken' that are more reminiscent of My Little Pony-brand Finnish folk metal than anything genuinely menacing, Chinese restaurant instrumentals on the outro, and whispery mumbling and painful clean warbling throughout – that break the immersion in an otherwise convincing dose of folksy melancholy. 'Fallen' is neither the eagerly awaited second golden age of Burzum, nor an overhyped bag of shit –  it's just above average, unremarkable and devoid of any real lasting impression. The worst thing that could happen to Varg is just for people to not care, to dull the bright blue flame of interest to the point where he's neither a misunderstood genius, nor a dangerous racist nutbag – just another bedroom Viking selling t-shirts in runic fonts through his bigcartel. Another few albums like this and we'll be there.