Mgła - Exercises in Futility

Pitchfork 78

Mgła are the exemplars of Polish black metal. They play melodic black metal that isn't immediate in its beauty, though a dark elegance does surface. Groza, which they released in 2008, was a promising debut, and on 2012's With Hearts Toward None they began to come into their own in terms of composition and lyrics. Exercises in Futility, their third full-length, improves upon Hearts' template, with guitarist/vocalist Mikołaj "M." Żentara and drummer Maciej "Darkside" Kowalski delivering their most spirited performances to date. It doesn't just set the standard for black metal in their home country, it's one of the finest black metal albums this year.

As its title implies, Futility is focused on a pessimistic, defeatist worldview. The opening line is "The great truth is there isn't one," a tone-setter if there ever was one. If we're to believe them, Mgła would prefer to be in hell shouting at the devil, not the purgatory of life. As M. laments on "II": "I wish it was classic fire and brimstone/ But clearly there is a very special plan/ Paved with havoc and shattered virtues/ As if there were any other paths." Futility's lyrics are a cut above basic sadboy depressive tropes, especially in a section of "V" masked as an ode to the working class: "Blessed be the tailors, the masks are cut to fit/ Blessed be the woodworkers, the crosses and the gallows/ Blessed be the forgers of iron, and the spikes and the barbwire/ Blessed be the stone cutters, it took a quarry to bury the dreams."

They're lyrics don't offer much hope, but M.'s guitar work suggests anything but failure: his playing draws from metal's wells of depression as well as the affirmative lights that can coexist with it. Mgła are the true heirs to Dissection's style of black metal; the melodies are huge without dipping into the saccharine. Even when M. gets into his nastiest playing, it never feels like he's wading in the tar pits of despair for despair's sake.

Mgła also balance their bursts of nihilistic euphoria with mid-paced sections that show discipline without sacrificing majesty. "II" uses this contrast as a springboard—the slower melody naturally builds into the brighter, faster vortex where hypnotism is a means of getting towards something bigger, not an end unto itself. "V" is another master study in these shifts—the slower sections are their darkest grooves, and when they race off, they run farther and faster than anything on the record. You imagine the duo would hate to be compared to post-rock, but both post-rock and black metal also-rans could stand to learn a lot about dynamics from them. Mgła's emphasis on the mid-paced is one testament to Celtic Frost's continued influence on black metal; it also lets the beauty of the riffs exfoliate, and those who got into black metal for its prettier, more accessible side would find much to appreciate here.

M.'s riffwork puts Mgła above most black metal groups, but it's Darkside's drumming that launches them into a class of their own. His cymbal work is key, bringing with it a formidable delicacy. "II" begins with a drum fill that serves as Darkside's own mini-suite, with the rides and crashes pinging louder than his tom fills. Maybe it's because we're not used to hearing cymbals used so prominently that they resonate this much; Darkside sees his kit as an extension of M.'s melodic prowess and not just an anger-management tool. Where most black metal drummers focus the most energy on bass drums or snares, he transfers that intensity towards guiding cymbals into a nervous dance. On "V", M.'s ecstatic melody becomes a light of rapture with Darkside's touch, elevating what's already seemingly in the heavens. Across Futility, he brings detail you'd expect from a solo project headed by drum-focused multi-instrumentalists like Leviathan or Panopticon.

It's rare to see two players so clearly meant for each other, and Mgła's accomplished performance on Futility transforms the lyrical content into a call to action. Great metal can harness strength from hopelessness; turning that strength into art is a blustering triumph. "The great truth is there isn't one" may be a swift roundhouse, but it's one that it will sober you up to find your own purpose. And on "IV", M. howls "Every empire/ Every nation/ Every tribe/ Thought it would end/ In a bit more decent way," a sentiment that can be applied to more than the collapse of states; it's the radical acceptance that there is no such thing as a clean break. No, Futility doesn't sell you the promise of a better world taken like gummy vitamins. But by offering no promises, it does open you up to take control for yourself, and what's more positive than that?