Bâ’a - Deus Qui Non Mentitur

Angry Metal Guy

How’s quarantine going? I don’t know about you, but the world outside my door is feeling more alien by the day, so I need simple things to remind me how the world is, and what better way than using metal’s vast multiverse? Case in point: what am I right now? A Couch Slut. What are we doing? Nothing.¹ How is cabin fever feeling? Entombed in Suffocation. What are you if you’re not social distancing? In de-Nile. What are we doing for breakfast? We Butter the Bread with Butter.² What sound does a dog make? Bow Wow, apparently.³ What sound does a sheep make? Bâ’a.

Bâ’a is an anonymous French black metal trio, and while pronunciation of the name remains unclear,⁴ their debut album Deus Qui Non Mentitur⁵ rips open the gates with stunning clarity in scorching tremolo, blastbeats, bass riffing, mammoth songwriting, morose atmosphere, and a fiery preacher for a vocalist. While tonal issues keep this debut from truly soaring, its patience, brevity, and atmosphere make it a truly exciting listen that, if nothing else, promises a world of success for these Frenchmen.

Bâ’a‘s dedication to equality in all elements is obvious, and each song’s movements are seamless. Each instrument is amorphous and fluid, shifting seamlessly in and out of the spotlight, from scorching tremolo to noodling bass to passages of lonely ambiance. The vocals spearhead the sonic palette from the get-go, sporting a shapeshifting range from guttural roar to ominous screech, relying typically on a mid-range hardcore-esque shout. As opposed to stereotypical obscure and ghostly shrieks, they provide stunning clarity to the surrounding bleak sound with tones of fury, desperation, and madness, often simultaneously. While tremolos and riffs are present, Bâ’a‘s patient and sprawling execution in its blend of the clean and distorted, the clear and cavernous, recall the balance of melody and ferocity in Dissection, the subtle and heart-wrenching melodies of Downfall of Gaia, and the hypnotic post-metal simplicity of Amenra. Alongside this core, there are tricks to add experimental flair to the core blackened palette: piano trills add texture to the tremolos of “Titan;” “Procession” relies on ominous Amenra-esque minor riffs and layers of strumming and tremolo; and “Des Profondeurs je crie” utilizes field recordings and ambiance in an overwhelmingly lonely but peaceful passage. Spoken word passages are used sparingly, strewing sinister (“Procession”), empty (“Des Profondeurs je crie”) and desperate (“Un Bûcher pour piédestal”) tones across the soundscape. The production and mixing of Deus Qui Non Mentitur is also noteworthy, as it balances the cavernous with clarity and the obscure with poignance, while allowing all instruments to shine.

The sole drawback of Bâ’a‘s sound is its tonal fluxes. While each track generally adheres to a core tone, adherence to one another can be shaky. Intro “Transept” and the outro are ominous affairs steeped in dark gloom, with toning bells and buzzing flies, recalling blackened ambient acts like Moëvöt. This makes “Titan” initially very jarring in its much more melodic tone. Similarly, perhaps the most guilty of tonal inconsistency is closing full track “Un Bûcher pour piédestal,” which serves as the most blackened of the bunch. While its first six minutes revel in a melancholic tone that borders on DSBM, its final three minutes eject it in favor of a sinister Amenra-esque passage to close it out, which feels extremely jarring. It’s perhaps the stiffest transition of the album, which weighs much heavier due to its placement at album’s end.

Ultimately, Deus Qui Non Mentitur feels like a full black metal meal. There’s plenty of variety crammed into its thirty-six minute runtime that doesn’t overstay its welcome, but feels patient enough to flesh out its components naturally. The vocals are the most charismatic I’ve heard in a hot minute, adding to Bâ’a‘s balance of the sinister, haunting, hypnotic, and desolate. In the current era, Deus Qui Non Mentitur feels appropriately cathartic reflecting uncertainly and loneliness, making it both immediate and relevant. In spite of its tonal flaws, it forsakes the stereotypes of black metal for something real, something human. I expected these Frenchmen to just remind me of how sheep and black metal sound, but in the end, I got something much more meaningful.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2020

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