…And
Oceans emerged from
the Finnish extreme metal underground in 1995, following the dissolution of Festerday,
evolving swiftly from their initial symphonic black metal foundation into a
highly mutable and sonically expansive entity. From their formative
years—marked by albums like "The Dynamic Gallery Of Thoughts" and "The
Symmetry Of I: The Circle Of O"—the band pursued a philosophy of
transformation, embracing avant-garde industrial, classical, and cyber-metal
textures as early as their boundary-pushing early-2000s releases "A.M.G.O.D."
and "Cypher." With Kena Strömsholm at the helm during those
formative years, the group immersed itself in mechanized rhythms and synthetic
atmospheres, eventually morphing into Havoc Unit before returning to
their original identity.
Since their
2017 resurgence, with Mathias Lillmåns on vocals and Timo Kontio
and Teemu Saari on guitars, …And Oceans has reestablished their
sonic complexity with albums like "Cosmic World Mother" and "As
In Gardens, So In Tombs." Their renewed vision balances fierce black metal
aggression with ornate electronic flourishes and a persistent undercurrent of
Finnish melancholia, driven forward by Antti Simonen’s keyboards and the
rhythmic force of Pyry Hanski (bass) and Kauko Kuusisalo (drums).
"The Regeneration Itinerary" stands as an intricate constellation within …And Oceans’ expansive discography. Each track acts as a nodal point in a sprawling sound map, constructed through layers of orchestration, dense guitar textures, and rhythmic complexity. The album maintains a tightly woven equilibrium between structure and flux, with the band operating as a singular organism despite the high level of compositional variance.
The opening
piece, "Inertiae," initiates the experience with kinetic
urgency—threads of symphonic ambience entangled in frantic riff-work and
processed synth pulses. The dual-guitar foundation of Kontio and Saari
sets a finely meshed framework that alternates between grandeur and aggression
without drawing too much attention to either side. Throughout the album, the
guitar work does not compete with the keys but dances with them—sometimes
sparring, sometimes fusing.
Keyboardist Antti Simonen continues to serve as the band's core architect of atmosphere. His arrangements do not seek to dominate or embellish but rather entangle the listener in a network of movements—looping, mutating, occasionally disorienting but always forward-driving. "Chromium Lungs, Bronze Optics" and "The Form And The Formless" offer the clearest examples of this magnetic interplay, where trance-like momentum meets metallic rigidity.
Mathias
Lillmåns' vocals
exhibit heightened abrasiveness compared to previous work. There’s a serrated
edge here that aligns with the more volatile segments of the album, especially
on "Prophetical Mercury Implement" and "The Fire In Which We
Burn." His rasp feels chemically fused with the dissonant currents running
through these tracks. It’s not a performance that seeks theatricality—it’s
scorched and dry, functioning more like instrumentation than character
delivery.
Despite its arcane aura and hallucinatory structures, the album adheres to its conceptual alignment of duality—suggested but not imposed. The listener is presented with fractured contrasts: silence and chaos, synthetic and organic, and decay and expansion. "I Am Coin, I Am Two" and "Towards The Absence Of Light" subtly illustrate this tension, where fragmented rhythm patterns, sudden harmonic detours, and unorthodox layering collide and reform.
The final
track, "The Terminal Filter", closes the itinerary with what feels
like a slow, reverse implosion. It doesn't seek finality or dramatic
resolution, instead fading into tonal ambiguity, underscoring the refusal of
the band to offer a singular conclusion. The album does not build toward a climax, nor does it collapse under its own conceptual weight. It merely
continues its motion, stopping only because it chooses to—not because it must.
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