SÓLSTAFIR
TALONS/TELEPATHY
THE FLEECE, BRISTOL
Iceland’s epic post-rockers bring riffs and wonder galore
Bristol gets a riff windfall tonight as telepathy immediately get down and dirty, giving us a swig from their dangerously thick concoction of instrumental prog metal. If Gojira had a mute son, this Colchester four-piece would fit the bill. Tides of doom-laced heaviness regularly recede only to come crashing back down at the drop of a blastbeat, densifying the atmosphere and adding depth to their sound that wins this crowd’s respect.
Dystopian folk or avant-garde cinematic metal? Who knows or cares? Whatever path talons lead us down, our minds gladly follow. Undeniably primal and ritualistic, this rich fusion of post-metal and gritty folk has all the feelings of an epic jam session between the darkest parts of different world cultures who all share a love of Tool. If you ever wanted to know how your nightmares would play out if Hans Zimmer scored them, you’re not going to get any closer than this.
sólstafir are relatively a little easier to digest, but by no means does it make them pushovers either. After a solid build-up that sees the four-piece erupt all guns blazing, the Icelanders make it perfectly clear that we are in their house now, proceeding to open up a can of refried whoop-ass with Silfur-refur. Their bad-ass brand of atmospheric desert prog-meetsheavy rock lives up to their 23-year reputation, fluidly weaving and building on empathetic passages that tug at a heart string or two before morphing into all-out twin axe attack combos swimming in killer headbanging grooves. The satisfaction we get from these pay-offs leaves us drooling. Vocalist Aðalbjörn Tryggvason is on soaring form, even ditching the need for a mic altogether at one point, pouring every last breath and sweat of emotion he’s got into the moment that invokes a roaring reaction from The Fleece.