Music review: Horseback reaches new peak with 'The Invisible Mountain'

Everything you need to know about The Invisible Mountain, the superb new album from Chapel Hill’s Horseback, can be found in the title for its epic last song, “Hatecloud Dissolving into Nothing.”

Comprised of three genre-bending monstrosities that rage with parts borrowed from all over the metal spectrum and an ambient closer that’s as creepy as it is entrancing, Mountain is a fascinating record that lives up to its last song’s enigmatic name.

With the first three songs Jenks Miller, the man behind the Horseback moniker, unleashes a storm of blistering noise that is as nuanced as anything going in metal today.

Opener “Invokation” fades in on a lumbering bit of black metal distortion that’s backed up by pounding drums and airy snippets of beautifully hazy guitar. On top of it all, a demonic voice rants like a hellish preacher converting the masses to the dark arts.

It’s a staggering concoction with Miller’s disparate elements creating a wealth of pent-up tension that keeps the listener riveted throughout the song’s near seven-minute length.

Through the next two songs, the sonic rage becomes more unrestrained.

On “Tyrant Symmetry,” the vocals growl to be heard above a hypnotic groove that hits hard thanks to the gritty effects heaped up on top of it.

But not even this well-crafted battle cry can hold a candle to the album’s triumphant title track.

Riding a soaring riff that’s pierced by tensile slices of delicate organ, the opening of the song becomes an imposing pulpit for Miller’s animalistic bark as he roars out his aggression in one of the most memorable metal vocals I’ve heard all year.

In the instrumental breaks, the guitars contort, chasing one another in an upward spiral that’s shot through by piercing blasts of distorted organ. The perfect balance of terrifying and engrossing, it shows Miller at the pinnacle of his powers.

And then all at once the Blitzkrieg is over, and all of the acidic vitriol dissolves into the blissful waves of warm distortion that take charge in the album’s 16-minute closer.

Ambient guitar effects, delicate acoustic guitar and keys undulate in a deep pool of calming noise as Miller’s metal groan lets out a few dying breaths, trying in vain to overcome the cleansing sound that has taken control of the record.

From beginning to end, The Invisible Mountain is as intriguing and impressive as avant-garde music gets. As Miller builds his hostility to a fever pitch and then breaks it back down to an easy calm, he reveals a true mastery for metal, noise and most everything in between.



Contact the Diversions Editor at dive@unc.edu.