Wolfpack- A New Dawn Fades LP (1996)
At the peak of my interest in Swedish hardcore, in the early ’00s, Wolfpack (later Wolfbrigade) was a decent outfit, with lineup troubles, name changes, drastic fluctuations in sound, an embarrassing flirtation with “epic crust,” break-ups, and a Profane Existence-style aesthetic that did them no favors. Like Skitsystem or Disfear, Wolfpack/brigade was obviously past their prime, somewhat directionless, and much less interesting than Martyrdod, Totalitar, or Meanwhile—or than Swedish-styled Japanese bands like Framtid. I bought the Wolfpack/brigade records, out of some obligation and feeling that “this was my favorite sub-genre,” but didn’t care to travel to see their “last show.” Their recent output remains unpurchased by me.
The record before us today, however, needs to be divorced from the listless, sorry context of the band’s later trajectory. A New Dawn Fades is in every way the equal of more celebrated metal-hardcore hybrids like Integrity’s Those Who Fear Tomorrow, Crow’s Bloody Tear, or the Cro-Mags’ Age of Quarrel. And, like all of those albums, A New Dawn Fades has a psychotic charm all its own—it isn’t simply a matter of bludgeoning the listener, nor of pure formalism.
What is immediately striking is how heavy the album is—but a heaviness liable to be completely misunderstood by today’s groups. With the advent of groups like Sunn O))), but also of “brutal death metal,” “brutal technical death metal,” etc., heaviness has merely become a matter of tuning, deliberateness, and production technique. But all of this can only present me with the signifiers of heaviness. It is no more heavy than a photograph of an anvil. Wolfpack hit you with that anvil. Heaviness, in their hands, is a question of rhythm and dynamics rather than of an “unrelenting,” boring insistence.
In the same way, in life, we learn that the funniest person is not he who laughs at his own jokes the loudest.
Next, one is struck by the extreme freedom the band allows themselves here: metal solos, (what we now know to call) “epic” leitmotifs, chunky mosh parts, straight-up Discharge worship—this is no one’s idea of being eclectic, but the band seems to be doing exactly what they want, or what the song calls for. Instead of writing “A Swedish Hardcore Song,” Wolfpack wrote a number of great songs using the elements of Swedish hardcore, choosing at every moment to incorporate or discard what was necessary. While their later stylistic meanderings—especially on the album In Darkness You Feel No Regrets—felt forced and derivative, A New Dawn Fades feels much more like the work of some very talented murderers who, like Citizen Kane and his newspaper, “thought it would be fun to make a hardcore album.”
I always say that music should “take me on a journey.” This entire album may not, but certain songs— “Predator,” “Living Hell,” “Enter the Gates,” and “Outlaw Vagabond”—are dramatic, cinematic, whatever you like; they pull you in. I won’t insult your intelligence by saying that “every song offers something a bit different”—it’s not true—but many of these songs pull you in *anew*.
I won’t let you go without mentioning Jonsson’s deranged, out-of-this-world vocal performance. Where many bands attempt to create ultimate vocal heaviosity by low growls and inaudible lyrics (though this can be successful; cf. Cryptopsy’s None So Vile), Jonsson here sounds like the crazy person you hear threatening someone a couple of blocks away, where you change directions just to avoid his glance. It is an actually violent, scary performance, made more so by the total lack of affectedness: he isn’t trying to convince you he is crazy, he is just trying to rock. In any case, it also saves the album from being “too metal,” because the only comparison I can think of is John Brannon in Negative Approach. Our modern ears, attuned to such sideshow disgraces as Abruptum or the emo virtuosity of today’s death metal cuties, will notice that these vocals are not so “extreme.” But such an approach, which treats music as though it were the creation of an avatar for a video game, where “strength” or “spell-casting power” are known quantities that can be scaled up or down, knows where to find its apotheosis: the cut-out bin.
[Recommended]
