Pharaoh
The Longest Night
10 - 53:04
Cruz Del Sur Music
(review by Andreas Schiffmann, written March 2006)
(this is one of three reviews of this album published simulataneously on this website. See the others here and here)
In many cases, you can trust bands that keep silent for several years between albums - No extensive touring, side projects nor promotional overexposure. This enables musicians to draw inspiration from real life, while excessive scene-going usually indicates the lack thereof. With their feet firm on the ground, Pharaoh easily reach the heights already climbed with After the Fire and surpass them in some respects.
The majority of reviews pins the band down to their NWoBHM-influences and has all the right reasons to do so, but this should not be mistaken: The band's quality is due to their knowledgeable application of metal tradition to the present where others make do with superficial idolatry; not so here, as you will see...
The long "Sunrise" promises a bright day with its upbeat rhythm and singing not unlike Bruce Dickinson's, were it not for Tim Aymar's frequently layered voice. The hymnal chorus is embedded in a comforting fluff of guitar harmonies and melodious bass-playing.
Pharaoh refute sleek production practices which highlight the vocals in the mix to guarantee accessibility or distract from instrumental dreariness. On this recording, the musicians' individual performances are well-balanced, and the arrangements make for interaction, as you can hear after the chorus in the unison of vocals and guitars ("and in the darkness / so many promises"). Aymar, while putting his stamp on all bands he has sung in so far, is of equal importance to Pharaoh's sound: The team is the star.
In the opener's calm bridge, the guitar-leads do the singing, while Chris Black proves himself to be a drummer who puts some McBrain into his playing; not many of his colleagues in metal are aware of the fact that the snare has a rim that can actually make a sound. In fact, you will realize that Black gives each song what it needs throughout the album, yet with the details that turn mere craftsmanship into artistry. Just consider his cymbal-playing, controlled footwork, or the effective use of fills and open space always at the right moment.
A fine solo brings back the verse-chorus-pattern and finishes an opening song unusual due to its length, but fit for its ear-catching qualities and deftly chosen because it does not shoot all the band's bolts right at the beginning.
There is more to come with "I am the Hammer", a straighter galloper spurred by one-note-staccatos the rhythm guitar approaches chromatically. Despite but brief double-bass-bursts, the energy is at a constant high, interrupted only by Matt Johnsen's leads. This sprinter kicks out at you and leaves so quickly you don't know what has just happened.
Time to lick your wounds with "In the Violet Fire" - less aggressive, even taking back the distortion after the introduction. Here, Aymar show that he is capable of a very clear articulation you seldom hear from him. Although there is a moderate increase of heaviness and speed in the course of the song, it maintains its more pensive character, yet with a positive outlook; the line "tears of joy like a river" sums up this feeling quite well: A tune that may "wash away your fears", for metal knows no resignation. The rhythmic variation within the particular choruses illustrates the band's non-static song-structures.
Like "Sunrise", "By the Night Sky" is of epic length. The initial guitar melody has the heroic touch you would expect from British bands like Solstice; find yourself whistling along to it even when the album is long over...
Aymar comes in, only accompanied by clacking bass-triplets - a combination sounding strange at first. Enter clean guitars and drums before the metal starts with strummed chords and a descending bass-figure which opens the first verse. The soaring vocals bring Jag Panzer's Harry Conklin to mind and build up an anticipation to be resolved in the beautiful chorus. The lyrics are full of metal motifs: there is the perseverance to "go on", also represented by the moderate pulse during the chorus; there is the archaic setting and ethos, most evident in Aymar's pledge of "loyalty" to the "king" to gain "immortality".
Modulation of key as perceived during the solo-section is something metal musicians make scarce use of within songs; moreover, Pharaoh do not refuse to reduce: There are moments where one of the guitars in the stereo-panorama takes a temporary break - a lesson to be learned by metal's rifest riff-fests... "Life is all dynamics" Apart from this, Matt Johnsen personifies the imaginary guitar-tandem with a brilliant tradeoff, alternating between emotional legato and fervent virtuosity.
"Twenty years have come and gone," Aymar states in the slower bridge, and you wonder about the special something it needs to keep established musical principles relevant. The circle is closed with a reprise of the introductory melody. Sheer metal bliss.
The more simply structured "Endlessly" begins with a guitar melody spiraling upward that frequently recurs. During the verses, voice and guitar communicate in a call-and-response way with Johnsen interrupting his supportive eighths to answer harmoniously to the vocals whenever Aymar takes a breath between his lines. These are seeking your attention here, emphasized by screams or enhanced with "oh-oh"-backings in the swelling pre-chorus. The prevalent topics of persistence and faith are revisited in the words.
A straightforward 4/4-stomp dominates the title track after the first tinkling arpeggios, whereas the chorus lets ring only chords to take away a bit of the forcefulness. It is regained only at the end after a calm bridge. Pharaoh have built this composition around metal's dearest chord-progression (root - sixth - seventh - root) - and in their case, it is no shoddy construction at all - thanks to Aymar's versatility.
Evoking pictures of tragic Icarus for a second, "Fighting" turns out to be a cheerful call to arms. Both escapism and determination are made vocal through keywords like "fantasy", "reality" and the motto "you won't take us alive", while the music interprets these metal archetypes with a rocking pace that is abandoned in the pre-chorus to increase tension. Before the expected climax though, the band keeps the listener in suspense; he is not rewarded for his patience with the blazing chorus and the repetitive appeal to "fight" until after the second verse.
Johnsen lays the foundation for his solos with a simple riff and again recommends himself as an equally soulful and shredding player. This vibrant ditty transports the aura of Gamma Ray at their zenith with Land of the Free; for some strange reasons, "Man on a Mission" came to my mind.
While sustaining the structural simplicity, "Like a Ghost" features lush fret-work - skillful, yet always fluent. Johnsen is all over the place here, pulling his upper registers even during the interjections where the rhythm guitar pauses to stress the intricate interplay between drums and bass. This is not the singer's song: He is faded out at the end, and the six strings have the last word.
"Up the Gates" is probably the one unspectacular track in the back which breaks it to you gently that almost an hour of metal-goodness will be over soon - no stinker with its rhythmic diversity and clean passages, only with a less compelling chorus and the slightly redundant gang-shouts repeating the song-title. Finally, "Never Run" is a good reason to push the repeat button. It sounds like an instrumental leftover from the first two Maiden-albums not only because of its twin-guitar-harmonies: The bass keeps pumping out eights, swerving from the root only to surprise with quick Steve-Harris-runs. Johnsen employs some additional facets to his soloing, and Black injects one last dose of verve into his band-mates' twiddling for a nice send-off.
The Longest Night has vinyl qualities: The hypothetical a-side provides instant access, oddly enough with the two more complex eight-minute-tracks. The second half of the album appears weaker at first; gratification comes from repeated listening here, and then, the supposedly inconspicuous "b-sides" will be hard to get out of your ears again.
Playing metal the classical way these days without sounding pretentious tells the real men from the Manowars of late. Pharaoh can rhyme "fire" with "desire" and proudly wear shirts from their favorite bands on promotional pictures - you will still not find it ridiculous.
This is because they represent everything that has made metal worthwhile throughout the years and elude what usually makes it a drag. It will be difficult for other genre-releases this year to beat The Longest Night.
The European elements are manifest in the band's understanding of melody combined with moderate heaviness; the extra attack comes from their own native neighborhood, as does their approval of structural variety. In the process, they do not blunt their own edge with trite singsong, but at the same time stay away from strained technicality. Truth is, The Longest Night is by no means destined to be an underground album only a chosen few can digest; these ten songs are meant to be enjoyed by a larger audience.
Considering the decline of Steel Prophet and the stagnant Jag Panzer, Pharaoh are able to fill a gap instead of jumping into America's New Grave of Brutish Heavy Metal. Affirmation of life, not juicy jollity; contemplation, not pointless anger management - The lump in the throat, but the fist in the air...