Aurum Aetus Piraticus

11 – 51:40


Gimmicks to grab the attention of reviewers and hooks to reel in consumers are becoming much more common as metal bands multiply at a staggering rate. The past few years have produced a raft of bands who have some axe to grind, peculiarity to showcase or message to get across wrapped up in some garb more novel than the last head turning stunt. Cattle Decapitation does gore metal from an animal rights standpoint, Stalaggh composes black metal so painful that only the screams of mental patients can serve as vocals, Caninus utilize pit bull terriers as vocalists to provide animals with a voice, and BloodHag throw science-fiction books at audiences to increase literacy. Hell, it gets so damn confusing and convoluted that Matthew Widener can dress up in rebel guerrilla gear and compose “grindcore about empowerment” and remind people to “keep fighting for basic human rights” in Citizen and then offer “twisted morality plays” about naked homeless men running around poking pedestrians with their peckers and a man with one tit masturbating in Cretin without worrying whether one thematic act contradicts or undermines the integrity of the other.
Although one can debate whether the proliferation of gimmick bands is something new and which ones are committed to the image behind the music or more concerned about making a sensationalistic splash, I initially thought that Verbal Deception was a band who was some metal burlesque on the seven seas and was wrong. But journalists and some listeners have certainly seized on the pirate angle to engage in some harmless fun, which has much more to do with Captain Jack Sparrow than Captain Bartholomew Roberts. “Ahoy,” “Matey,” “Landlubbers” and all the other words and ideas associated with pirates have been trotted out in reviews in jest and people have showed up to gigs wearing eye patches with plastic cutlasses in hand to have an exotic night out on the town. There is little doubt that this will be the rule instead of the exception if Verbal Deception widens its passionate fan base beyond the wilds of Calgary, and this frivolousness made me leery of devoting the time to taking a long look at the band when I came across them a few months ago. In fact, it was Dave Brenner insisting in his Metal Maniacs “demo” review that the bands “antics” were “not comedic enough” to “traverse the rough seas the metal churns up” in a stilted stab at pirate lingo performing double duty as an aside indicating that sincere traditional metal is an untenable proposition in this extreme day and age that made me take a second look at Verbal Deception, and I discovered that the teens and twenty something’s manning the Deception decks are good humoured sea dogs who are not above being jolly but deadly serious about their vilified vocation.
Verbal Deception are inclined as anyone else to indulge in pirate argot and get caught up in the freedom bestowed by the high seas, but the band has repeatedly informed anyone who becomes too carried away that their self-proclaimed brand of “Pirate Metal” is a craft instead of a circus. And a survey of what Aurum Aetus Piraticus has to offer without even placing the disc in the player more than proves that Verbal Deception is thoughtful and heartfelt piratical metal. The explanation of Deception’s “coat of arms” included does lay it on a bit thick and could be interpreted as some silly commentary, but when you step back and look at the larger package, the purple prose becomes a slightly clumsy moment which does not even come close to capsizing the credibility of the band. Everything else associated with the pirate motif is pulled off in a stately and sober fashion which makes the angle a concept arising from a conviction mirroring the infamous “merry life and a short one” quote from Black Bart Roberts reproduced on the back of the booklet.
Piracy is not a gimmick or a theme adopted to stand out from the pack on Piraticus, since the “Voyage of the Deception” chronicled on the album is an authentic and accurate representation of what has made the piratical life so appealing to generations of rouges, misfits and outcasts who have never set foot on a ship. The lyrics to salty songs like “Pirate Attack,” “Northern Shores,” “High Seas,” “The Scarab” and other brine and blood soaked yarns are simple stories rarely ranging beyond the emotions stirred by piracy, but the journal entries in flowing cursive handwriting offering episodic insights into what happened to the men aboard The Deception from November 1703 to April 1706 transform Piraticus into a true concept album (a trip which is also traced in a detailed six panel poster map of the Atlantic world). There are also many deft touches in the ship notes like referring to “the Sodom of the New World” and assurances that “We will bite before we bare our teeth” which are great imaginative leaps that really capture the tenor of the times. Yet, despite the rich supplementary material provided to bring more life to the exploits of the crew of the Deception, “The Temptress” is the only song that has any real narrative structure, and this fully developed tale only highlights the paucity of meat on the bones of the remaining lyrics.
The music has a nautical air that waxes and wanes but remains constant enough to merit calling it “pirate metal”. Although death metal vocals might seem a poor fit for the topics Verbal Deception is tackling, Kresho Klarich manages to pull off the trick with ease. To label vocals death metal is a bit deceptive, though since Klarich’s way past parched throaty rasp is not choked or guttural, but it does share some common ground with Jeff Becerra’s grating voice on Beyond the Gates. Klarich is a one-dimensional vocalist, and steers a steady course that could lead some to characterize the approach as monotonous, but the same cannot be said about his guitar playing. Power, classic, death, black speed, and thrash all collide in a less than-extreme fashion on his frets, providing a firm old-school anchor for the folk elements weaved in throughout the metal which makes Verbal Deception a band steeped in tradition.
In fact, it is hard to tell where the influence of Blind Guardian and Death end and where the moments of high-stepping Celtic romping, sinewy snake-charming Arabic swaying, and subdued Gypsy belly-dancing pounding begin at times – but the combinations never become unbalanced mish mash. There is one aspect of Klarich’s playing that really does present a problem and sullies the songs at some points. Pinch harmonics of the nails-clawing-a-chalkboard variety are a prominent part of the Verbal Deception attack which are absolutely out of place. The pinching is not overwhelming, since it appears in fits and starts, but there is enough instances to make mention of the technique. It just sticks out like a long and nasty rusty nail from a solid plank and should have been thrown overboard before the ship left port.
Klarich is also the only guitarist in the band, and when he is in lead mode there is no underlying rhythm work spliced in because Walt Fleming picks up the slack with his keyboard. And the Keyboards are an indispensable part of Piraticus, often driving and directing the proceedings, but the keys are used to mimic other instruments and the strains of bandoneon (close cousin of the concertina), flutes and even a calliope add genuine depth to Verbal Deception’s pirate metal while imparting an oddball spirit to the music similar to the eccentric keywork on Opera IX’s Sacro Culto. The Keyboards also reflect the overall character of Piraticus, an album which manages to be whimsical while remaining rooted in a serious and substantial engagement of plundering pirates. Overall, an excellent and promising debut and although there are flaws and imperfections which result in some fluctuating levels of quality between songs, there are strong and bold indications of where the Verbal Deception vessel could sail, and a journey is frequently much more satisfying when you were on board at the beginning.