Cardinal Noire
Vitriol
Artoffact Records
“Brappin’ out like it’s 1984”: Cardinal Noire’s Bandcamp biography stands as a succinct mission statement which, frankly, covers a good portion of the band’s appeal and what the newcomer needs to know about the Finnish duo. Vintage Skinny Puppy, in all its clatter and density, remains Kalle Lindberg and Lasse Alander’s primary muse, and while they veer from the electro-industrial path hewn by those legends on their various side projects (Protectorate, W424) they always cleave to it on Cardinal Noire LPs. Third full-length Vitriol is no exception in that regard, and thus its strengths and distinctions are likely more perceptible to (and possibly of concern to, one way or the other) the already initiated.
For those new to the party, yes, that certainly sounds like the phrase “rot and annihilate” being reiterated on “Gun Metal”; as always Cardinal Noire know on which side their bread’s buttered. Heck, one could almost read the entirety of Vitriol‘s title track as an extended riff and variation on the “shores of Pluto” refrain in “Convulsion”, but it’s difficult to count such homage as a flaw when it’s so up front and when the syncopation of the bubbling yet snapping bass programming and gunshot snares is so solid. Execution like that is what’s separated Cardinal Noire from so many others who’ve taken a page or two from Puppy; Vitriol is defined by rhythmic density, with the buttressing of dense, menacing programming with a constant battery of drum fills, the duo’s metal chops once again coming across more in the ornamenting and presentation of Cardinal Noire’s ethos than in the form of actual riffing.
There are a few moments of respite in the assault, though traditional melodies, vocal or programming based, are so rare in Vitriol‘s steely presentation that when the slow, bittersweet melancholy of “Diatribes”‘s vocal refrain and its stained glass chimes emerge into the spotlight the record takes on an air of wistful remorse. The deep space cinematics of “Precious Hearts” are of an entirely different cast from both that lament and the aggression of the rest of the record, pointing to a parallel dimension in which Lindberg and Alanderbegan work as a black metal band and gradually moved wholly into dreamy symphonics and ambience. It’s certainly not the showiest or most impressive moment on Vitriol but it’s proof that the duo’s chops extend well beyond the Vancouver school business at hand.
And that’s the nature of Cardinal Noire in a nutshell – the obvious glee the band feel in doing exactly what they’re doing with this project regardless of their extra-curricular interests or talents is palpable. How much you’ll take from Vitriol is likely wholly dependent on your feelings about the sources from which they’re drawing, but for fans of this style there’s simply no one doing it better today.
