As has been noted, I'm not the biggest fan of stuff that generally gets described as "folk metal". Not that that term really means anything anymore - I mean, man, there is a gulf between, say, the pioneering pagan fusion of Skyclad and the monstrous Japanese tribal rhythms of Birushanah. "Ethnic" is sort of a landmine, I guess, but that's generally where we're at, heavy metal bands that incorporate musical "folk" tradition to varying degrees. And I think it's safe to say that when most of us here the "F"-word bandied about, it is stuff like Finntroll, Korpiklaani, and the Tales from the Thousand Lakes-era Amorphis stuff. Actually, now that I'm hashing it out here, I guess that I dig folk metal more than I realized. I'm a sucker for the Finnish.

But boy, I can only take so much jig. And polka beats, for that matter.

Celtic mythology and culture has been mined for inspirations by a lot of bands working in the "folk metal" zone, but I haven't heard anything as immersed and steeped in Iron Age spirituality and rich Gaelic archetypes like what you get hit with on Sol Ether's debut album. The Boston duo of Torann and Tellus came out horns blasting with this 2022 debut, a wild and violent rush of ultra-heavy, eccentric, and archaic Celt-influenced death metal that whips up a storm of berserk folk instrumentation, carefully positioned avant-garde flourishes, and a totally dominating attitude that reverberates from each hammerfist riff and rousing war-anthem. And oh, what glorious drama introduces this event! Frontman Torann delivers deeply wrought, somber male singing that rises high above a muted roar of burning fields, chains and shovels gouging the earth, that torrent of background rumble building into a black thunderhead. That singing is terrific, "Spire of Fate" setting up this melodramatic atmosphere, hailing the dread power of the Irish-Celtic warrior-queen figure The Morrigan...and then it bursts straight into the skull-mulching doomdeath of "Morrígan" itself. The band kicks into total earthmover mode, slow, grinding riffs backed by a pummeling rhythm section, with some rad unexpected riff-shifts and subtle tempo changes (or not so subtle, when the blastbeats suddenly kick in for a moment). Heavy as fuck, invoking the filthy, offal-thick stench of Autopsy, Incantation as well as Bolt Thrower's mid-tempo skulldozer riff attack, digging into these deep and monstrous grooves that cycle around sickening guttural roars, some strange sounds occasionally clanking or banging in the background. The album nails it with the track sequencing, building a tangible vibe as they move through each lengthy track, some songs spanning ten minutes, and Sol Ether start to flex some wild progginess as the album unfolds, seen via that killer fusion-y bass that opens "Golden Head" and the tangles of confusional dissonant shred that spring up here and there. And that clear, baritone singing reappears throughout, this majestic presence looming over the charred, gnarled wastes. These guys keep a nice balance of straightforward heaviosity and the weirder prog-death flourishes, with the focus always on delivering these gargantuan death grooves. I'm already lovin' this disc three songs in.

Like entwined limbs of black elderberry, dense and verdant, the Celtic tribal mythology runs deep in I: Golden Head's strange, doomed death metal terrain. This reveals itself to be a spiritually fueled concept album that unfurls a grand but cryptic narrative. Every single song features these poetic pagan odes to transcendence and transfiguration through the cosmic furnace of fire and war; anyone versed in pre-Christian Celtic lore and the Heroic Age will have a field day with all of the mythology and imagery woven into the music, the whole of the album unfolding as a great saga, vividly described and continuous references to the brandishing of the mighty spear Gáe Bulg, evocations of the war-god Taranis and guardian of the "otherworld" Manannán mac Lir, reverence of the wood and mounds of the fairy folk and Tuatha Dé Danann, the battle-frenzy of ríastrad (which has been translated into English as "warp-spasm" - now that is badass), with whole verses being sung or growled in actual Gaelic language in songs like closer "Freedom" and the title track. The handful of haunting interludes work very nicely: "Through Time" moves out of the metal into another grandiose soundtrack forged from dark ambient tremors and the crack of thunder transformed into a harrowing experience. Similarly, "Call of the Sídhe" (whose title I'm assuming is borrowed from famed Irish poet-mystic George William Russell ) breaks into the sound of tribal drumming and ecstatic flute, a stomping ritualistic daze washing over everything. But at it's core, these guys are primarily poised to hammer you into the goddamn dirt like an iron spike. Sheer heaviness dominates I: Golden Head even amidst the dreamlike ventures into ancient musical tradition and mythic beauty, and the moments of prog-tinged weirdness.

And you know what? Not a single jig to be found.