Panopticon – The Rime of Memory Review

Though his work pre-dates the last decade, it was in the 2010s that Austin Lunn’s solo project entitled Panopticon became one of the best black metal bands currently operating. From the raw, political charge of Kentucky, through the rangy, transitory Roads to the North, to the delicacy and melodicism of Autumn Eternal,1 Panopticon fuses American heritage with Nordic musicality into an extremely compelling and atmospheric black metal package. The new decade brought …and Again into the Light which was a typically dynamic and emotively-driven affair and it’s now followed by The Rime of Memory. Can Lunn maintain his quality in quantity?

Lunn is ever the master of atmosphere. The brief introduction called “I Erindringens Høstlige Dysterhet” bleeds into the first (and longest) main track called “Winter’s Ghost,” building tension with nearly 10 minutes of moody neofolk. The slow, plodding feel and layers of acoustic guitars and cello set a doomy pace. Although the first heaviest passage on the record is a punishingly bleak and unmelodic streak of black metal, this transitions into proper doom metal territory. Rime of Memory’s despondent tone and doom instrumentation lend its music even more weight and gravitas. I may not particularly enjoy doom these days but where it’s used to set a tone and counter-point other sounds it works well. Rime of Memory is moody but not dull, poignant but not overwrought. It extracts you from your current circumstances and drags you into its desolate, frost-bitten world. There is little comforting here, at least until the closing two tracks which allow slivers of optimism to pierce the darkness.

The core concoction of atmospheric, folk-infused black metal comprises 4 daddy-sized tracks running between 12 and 20 minutes, the brief introduction and another 9-minute track for good measure. It’s a lot to consume and it feels like you experience Lunn’s raw, unfiltered, creative expression. He’s invested himself into maximum drama here. I’m familiar with his protracted style and glean great enjoyment from some of his other lengthy works. But Rime of Memory takes another step on that road towards 80 minutes, finishing just a few minutes shy of that mark. I admire the way that Lunn channels his singular artistic and emotional energy into his albums, but the counter-balance of another song-writing hand might help to refine the mass of music he inevitably releases. There are too few songs for the album’s length, resulting in what feels like a feast each time you hit play; what’s here is good but there’s a lot of it. This might work on a once-per-week or once-per-month basis, but trying to listen to the album regularly all the way through is a lot to stomach. It’s unnecessary that the shortest main track on this album is nearly 10 minutes long, and there are 4 longer tracks than this.

Moreover, the first two-thirds of Rime of Memory is less dynamic than other Panopticon albums; besides its opening 10 minutes, it features few extended quiet passages, few soothing interludes, and few pretty melodies. There are fewer moments I can point to that surpass other highlight moments from previous records. I like long songs as much as the next prog nerd but such length requires dynamism, namely tangible progression between heavy and light, between instrumentation, between tempo and melodies. Rime of Memory has just enough of this to sustain its weight but it’s close in places. Fortunately, the closing duo called “Enduring the Snow Drought” and “The Blue Against the White” revitalizes my energy and enthusiasm after a crushing run of music, turning through stronger melodies, bigger guitar solos and proper slow passages to frame the heavier stuff. The latter’s final passage feels appropriately dense and climactic, but also memorable and melodic, with hummable guitar melodies and a powerful string arrangement. The final 28 minutes of the record are a potent reminder of why I love this band.

All this results in an album that was tough to rate. If you already enjoy Panopticon you’ll undoubtedly enjoy Rime of Memory too. It’s powerfully atmospheric and emotively poignant, pulling you into its cold, harsh world. But its emotions are alienating, and its run-time difficult to digest. I’m generally reluctant to highly award an album that I struggle to complete in one sitting because this defeats the purpose of the album as a singular art form. But it also says a lot that Panopticon pulls me back for more listens despite this. My recommendation isn’t as easy as it was for …and Again into the Light, but it’s a strong recommendation nonetheless.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: facebook.com/panopticon | panopticon.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: November 29th, 2023


Thus Spoke

So desperate to evade our inevitabilities…we will harness and destroy the very life force we thrive from to just have one more day of youth and ease…we will desecrate the sacred cathedrals of the wilderness, the havens of all life just so that we can have a simpler existence […] And then it comes. The well dries up. The forests burn. The smoke filled air choking our lungs […] It all served us nothing. There is no escape from death and grief and loss…So why did we do this? – A.Lunn

I won’t pretend to have any special personal connection to the Appalachian wilderness, because I don’t. I grew up in the South-East of England. Yet even to me, Panopticon’s music is so powerfully evocative, it almost feels like nostalgia. The forests and mountains, their history, their life, and their pain feel so real and so familiar. The albums are just as hard-hitting emotionally, progenitor Austin Lunn’s bleeding human heart palpable through the bewitching intermingling of bluegrass, folk, raw black, and atmospheric black metal. None have left me with dry eyes or a less than restless soul. Following up 2021’s …And Again Into the Light is a tall order, that previous record resonating particularly strongly—perhaps due to its release amidst the anxiety and isolation of lockdown fallout—and shooting to the top of my year-end list. But in characteristically understated fashion, dropping as the year draws to a close, The Rime of Memory is here to prove just how unmatched Panopticon is.

An allegory about time, aging, and the dying planet, The Rime of Memory draws from deep wells of passion and pain both intimate and universal. The dreamlike interplay of ferocious, frosted second-wave tirades, weeping strings, delicate plucks, and boundless, echoing atmospheres feels huge, and makes these emotions utterly undeniable. With a host of guest musicians providing said strings, piano, choir and harsh vocals, and poetry recitation (“An Autumn Storm”), both Lunn’s voice and his message is amplified and the sheer scale of this work totally envelops. In many ways, it’s the heaviest Panopticon has released in recent memory, a great deal devoted to the intense, archetypal surges of string-accented black metal and heart-wrenching screams, massive, clanging resonance (“Cedar Skeletons,” “An Autumn Storm”), and what is surely the most impassioned and impressive drumming of the project’s lifetime—especially on “Cedar Skeletons” and “Enduring the Snow Drought.” Quieter moments carry an analogous weight in stirring poignancy, wrought by liquid plucks and ethereal, fading tremolo, forlorn steel guitar plucking, and heaving sighs of string. Everything seems designed to enhance the drama, without ever overwhelming; cataclysmic climaxes fading into echo and stripped-back iterations of the theme. In mesmerized reverence you witness the pulsing post-metal grow layer upon layer, before exploding (“Winter’s Ghost,” and all the others).

‘Beautiful’ is almost too surface-level a word to describe The Rime of Memory, but it’ll do. Whether raging with near-dissonance (“An Autumn Storm”) or the dreaded major key (“Enduring the Snow Drought”), or being straightforwardly, gaze-ily gorgeous (“Winter’s Ghost,” “The Blue Against the White”), it is beautiful in an untamable, indescribable way. This is due to Panopticon’s proficiency for crafting exquisitely layered compositions, that weave the instrumentation together into inextricable ebbs and flows of urgent, plaintive, rage-filled sound. Such intricacies lead also to jaw-dropping, and tear-baiting catharses (“Winter’s Ghost,” “Cedar Skeletons,” “Enduring the Snow Drought”). Suffused with syrupy guitar, mournful refrains drifting upwards, morose spoken word or heaving screams, combining into a descending, explosive symphony led by the violins and cellos that carried the melody, chimes, choir, tumbling, accelerating percussion, emotion ringing into the atmosphere with melancholy strings. And the beginnings too—steel guitar, horn, cello and violin lament opening “Winter’s Ghost”

Even speaking of high points does little justice to the way the album flows and coheres as one. At a push, I would pull “Cedar Skeletons” out as not only the greatest on the record, but a strong contender for song of the year. There is nothing to remove, and nothing to add to The Rime of Memory, because with it, as with Panopticon’s other works, one must experience it as the cry of human solidarity, grief, and love that it is, as it is. Unbroken and unabridged. Many consider an album such as this that extends to 75 minutes simply ‘too long,’ and therefore deduct real or theoretical marks from their review or opinion of it. But being long is no inherent flaw. As it happens, 75 minutes is exactly the right duration for the drama and beauty of The Rime of Memory to play out.

I could wax lyrical even further but I imagine everyone is already very sick of me. The Rime of Memory epitomizes exactly why, and how far Panopticon exists in worlds beyond (post-)black metal peers. Another world to sink into, to muse on, to introspect, grieve, and hope to. The steel guitars and strings of “I Erindringens Høstlige Dysterhet” and “Winter’s Ghost” are starting again, and I’m already crying. Beyond words.


Rating: Excellent

Show 1 footnote

  1. We don’t talk about the over-long, unfocused double album of The Scars of Man on the Once Nameless Wilderness
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