Karg | Marodeur | AOP Records

 

 Karg was founded in 2006 by Michael J.J. Kogler as a one-man project in Austria. What started as a solitary atmospheric black metal act evolved into a full live lineup between 2010 and 2014, with performances primarily in German-speaking countries. After reverting to a solo project for several years, Karg reemerged with a live band in support of 2018's "Dornenvögel" and continued the trajectory with 2020's "Traktat"—their first tour-centric release. Between pandemic restrictions and renewed collaboration, Karg released the EP "Resilienz" and two full-lengths: "Resignation" and "Marodeur," the latter being the band’s first fully written as a collective. The group blends atmospheric black metal with strong injections of post-rock, grunge, shoegaze, and post-punk, crafting music rooted in sorrow and personal trauma, with lyrics delivered in the dialect of the Austrian Tennen Mountains.

"Marodeur" is the sound of Karg not only as a band but as a living, breathing organism built on shared grief, introspection, and burning urgency. The transition from solitary to collective writing doesn’t soften the album’s emotional foundation but widens its dimensions. Across eight tracks and nearly an hour of runtime, there is no sense of excess—only immersion.

The sound is dense but not overbearing, constructed with layered guitars, often shimmering or reverberating, interwoven with raw black metal textures that feel intentionally jagged. Vocals are delivered in the anguished, spoken-scream dialect of Kogler, as haunted as ever, still deeply rooted in pain and memory.

Influences outside of the black metal surface frequently, but not as detours—rather, as natural terrain. There are moments where one hears the weight of grunge pressing in, the haze of shoegaze softening the blastbeats, or the restraint of post-rock building a long arc of tension without release. Yet the sound never drifts into meandering abstraction. There’s a sense of purpose in every shift, especially in how atmosphere is used not for decoration but to intensify discomfort or mourning.

Songs like "Findling" and "Annapurna" stretch the emotional fabric wide, but never melodramatically. Guitars shimmer, then collapse under distortion. Percussion ranges from subdued to frantic, rarely following a conventional structure. When Klara from Firtan joins in "Annapurna", the track doesn’t elevate into harmony but rather sinks deeper into melancholy—an intentional contrast to any expectation of resolution.

While there are no radical transformations here, Karg refuses stagnation. "Marodeur" sounds neither like a strict return nor an adventurous leap forward—it simply is what Karg now feels like: broken, solemn, relentless, and human. The lyrics continue to bear tremendous weight. Rather than theatrical narratives, Karg leans into real wounds—personal collapse, despair, and psychological deterioration. The dialect grounds these emotions in place, and the delivery ensures they remain raw, even abrasive at times.

This is an album not driven by structure but by sensation. There are no hooks, no climaxes tailored for effect—only a long procession through emotional debris. But the journey never feels directionless. There is clarity even in the murk.

Score: 8.5