Towering - The Oblation of Man

Towering is a death metal band from France, who formed in 2015.  Their latest release, “The Oblation of Man,” is their second full-length album; they have also released two demos.

Dissonance is a tricky thing for a lot of bands.  Sometimes it gets so dissonant that it sounds meandering and pointless.  Other times, it begins to blend together.  Still other times, a band gets so caught up on the style, they lose their heaviness and sense of urgency.  

Towering conquers these dilemmas by taking what has become a familiar metal trope and forging a sound all their own. They have the dissonance factor nailed down—and it is atmospheric as hell.  But it never loses its crushing base of stark death metal.  The lead guitar is as important as the riffs and everything is formed up and focused by the bass and drums, both of which must surely be considered amongst the densest things in the universe.  Spearheading the charge are very urgent and depraved vocals. 

This isn’t an album that steps outside the lines but instead commands the lines to grow, to accommodate its prowess and every expansion.  Each song is a study in letting the chaos loose but also how to control it—not to abate it or reign it in but to simply tell it where to go next. 

As I mentioned, this album is heavy with a lot of crunchy riffs to coincide with the dissonant groove.  It is atmospheric but never only that: the album never fails to bring in the death metal first and then let it grow naturally from there.  The cover art is a bleak representation of the music that resides underneath it.   Every song has its own presence though, serving the great whole but making sure each chapter is of worthy note.  

The riffs rise out of the murky waters of the stellar production job, beginning the formation of damnation in the burgeoning moments of “Asceticism.”  The album sounds like it is being played right in the same room, such is the vibe the instrumentation gives off.   The riff-based structure is plenty open enough for the vocals to arrive, burrowing themselves in the mix as the whole song becomes a monolithic sound.  If there was ever an album made for a damn good pair of headphones, it is this one.  Mine are decent and it felt like a physical presence was trying to get inside my head. 

I truly appreciate how methodical this album can be too, and the tension that rises up alongside it.  The long intro of "Herald of the Black Sun,” is indeed like a precursor to some unstoppable force.  This is the musical equivalent of swimming through concrete–such is the seemingly impenetrable force of this song, and the album as a whole.  As evident across its 8-minute runtime, the band is comfortable with taking it mean and slow or fast as fuck.  Regardless of their chosen tempo, it is never less than laser focused on causing the most ruinous damage. 

“To Die Once and Emerge,” ends the album’s 46-minute runtime with a harrowing gauntlet of pained misery, the finality and frustration of a people who have long sense worn out their welcome in their place in the cosmos.  The drums are like the heralding march of inevitable death, the guitars are the path of which that force of nature walks, and the vocals deliver the final blow.   The middle passage of the song is chaotic as hell, but their sound flows from one second to next, picking up different pieces of deconstruction and building them back into a freighting machine. 

Tower’s “The Oblation of Man,” is a very successful extreme metal album that has breathed new life into anything with the dissonance tag to itself.  This is a soundtrack for the apocalypse and, considering the world we live in now, I suppose that makes it an album you can put on anywhere and guarantee the shadows will come alive.  

Rating:  Excellent