Tag: music

It’s been a few years since my favorite group put out a new album, but the time has finally arrived. Yesterwynde came out last month, and I’ve got some things to say about it.

Nightwish remains at the top of my list of favorites, as they have for almost two decades now. Their music truly has touched me in many ways. It’s emotional, which carried me through some tough times. It’s inspiring, to the point of providing me with titles for about a dozen of my stories. Most of all, it’s just good music. Considering what the media tries to push these days, that’s a rare occurrence indeed.

Yesterwynde, however, is…a bit of a conundrum. It marks another shift in lineup, as Marko Hietala left the band a few years ago. His replacement on bass doesn’t sing. Than means male lead vocals fall to Troy Donockley—admittedly, he did most of the male singing on Human :II: Nature—who also plays…bagpipes. (Metal is weird, in case you’re wondering.)

Concept-wise, it’s not fully coherent, but there are definite themes that run throughout. From what I can tell, it’s envisioned as completing a trilogy that began with Endless Forms Most Beautiful. What that tells me is something I’ll save for the conclusion.

Anyway, on to the song-by-song.

Yesterwynde

The opening, and title, track sets the tone for the whole album. It starts with a very Nightwish symphonic and choral intro, tosses in some piping, and lets Floor Jansen show off. Very traditional, but you can already sense a shift in the tone of the album. There seem to be more minor chords and more drops that give the song a sense of sadness that was totally missing from the last two albums.

At the beginning, even before the strings, is another recurring theme, in the form of a film projector sound. The word "yesterwynde" is a pure neologism that, broadly speaking, refers to nostalgia, the longing for the past. That sense permeates the entire album, and the projector noise only reinforces the notion that we’re looking back. Compare this to Endless Forms, which always gave me the feeling of being looked at.

An Ocean Of Strange Islands

Now we get to the first "real" song, and it’s much more metal. It hearkens back to "Stargazers" and "Devil And The Deep Dark Ocean" in its energy and feel. In my view, that’s another way Yesterwynde invokes nostalgia: it’s as if you’re listening to a greatest hits album that doesn’t actually have any of the songs.

In terms of theme, it’s hard to tell just what these strange islands are, but I suspect that, in this instance at least, they’re worlds like Earth. Phrases like "universal mariners" and "the starbound quay" hint at that, while also reminding us that Nightwish has always been a very sea-focused band.

The Antikythera Mechanism

The object referred to in the title of this one, the Antikythera Mechanism, is the oldest known analog computer, a Greek invention from Late Antiquity that functioned as an orrery. Finding it changed a lot of what we thought we knew about that era, and technological progress as a whole.

The song gives a hint of that: "Your father’s voice, no more unheard." What it also gives is an unusual rhythm for the verses, interspersed with a rapid-fire refrain that opens up as it progresses, both filled with lofty lyrics that still come across as down-to-earth. This is also the first reference to the "weave", a theme that we’ll pick up later.

The Day Of…

No, the title didn’t get cut off. That’s really what it’s called. The day of…what, you might ask? Reckoning, I would assume, because this track definitely has an apocalyptic vibe. Rather, it’s closer to a deconstruction of apocalypse.

This is where Nightwish, like many metal acts, makes you think. For the whole song, Jansen is rattling off various ways the world might end. Y2K, overpopulation, global warming, and other such falsehoods. The best part is, she’s mocking them. She’s laughing at all these crazy theories humans have devised for the end times. And that goes all the way up to the present, the "mind virus" (which can only be a reference to woke progressivism) and the urge to "obey, stay away, cover up" that too many people submitted to in 2020.

"The Day Of…" thus feels like a rejection of the modern ideology, the state religion of fear impressed upon us. But it’s not a call for returning to tradition, either.

Perfume Of The Timeless

I barely know what to say about "Perfume Of The Timeless". It’s just one of those songs that gets into your mind, your very soul, and makes itself at home there. An 8-minute epic that evokes pretty much anything you could think of, if you squint hard enough. Symphony and metal intertwined. And, best of all, that chorus. The second line of it, to be precise: "We are because of a million loves."

Those seven words, in my opinion, encapsulate not only the overarching theme of Yesterwynde, but the feeling it seems to want you to feel. We’re human. We have human emotions. And this song isn’t saying that we live for love, but because of love. We’re here because our parents loved each other (or tried to), because their parents did, and so on. It’s the spiritual counterpart to what I consider the most important line of "The Greatest Show On Earth": "Not a single one of your fathers died young."

It’s humanism, plain and simple. It is the sense that we all have things in common, that there are universals among our species. And that we owe our lives to the humans who came before us.

Sway

After the humanist national anthem, we get "Sway", an airy ballad that lets both vocalists shine in harmony. Nothing too complex or even deep here, just good singing and an undercurrent of innocence. That’s another Nightwish standard, going all the way back to the 90s. There’s a bit of whimsy in here, that then stands in counterpoint to the bridge speaking of some unknown big reveal. Death? Revelation? Whatever it is, we should greet it with the eyes of a child.

The Children Of ‘Ata

Speaking of children, next up is "The Children Of ‘Ata". Not sure what ‘Ata is; my admittedly cursory search came up with a mythical Polynesian island, sort of a Pacific Atlantis or Hyperborea. The song starts with a chant in a Polynesian language—I think it’s Tongan?—lending credence to that theory.

Besides that, this is a song that confuses me. It works in the lyrical theme of a mariner, as in "An Ocean Of Strange Islands", but also the "watchers" theme from "Edema Ruh" and the endurance theme from the climax of "The Greatest Show On Earth", both on Endless Forms, the notion that we’re being watched and judged by someone beyond our knowledge. In this case, based on the rest of Yesterwynde, that someone is…our children. Future generations looking back, probably wondering what in the world we were thinking.

Oh, and there’s a haka. I think it’s a haka, anyway. Sounds like one. And that reminds me of Christopher Tin’s "Kia Hora Te Marino". Nothing wrong with that.

Something Whispered Follow Me

A nighttime visitor, physical or spiritual. A call of the wild, beckoning you to step into the unknown, into the land of fantasy that waits beyond the "normal". Every metal band does it, apparently. Queensryche made a hit of it. Avantasia wrote two whole albums about it. Nightwish themselves put it in a song ("Elvenpath", in case you’re wondering) when I was still in middle school.

This rendition of that timeless trope is nothing spectacular, but it’s solid. Hard. It urges us to find something real by, paradoxically enough, embracing flights of fancy. And it’s another song with humanist trappings, reminding us that our lives are works of art simply by us living them.

Spider Silk

Here’s another song where I don’t know what to say. Unlike "Perfume Of The Timeless", it’s not because I was bowled over by it. No, "Spider Silk" is simply…uninspiring. It’s literally a song about spiders, and it just isn’t a very good one.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The track has a catchy beat. When I listened to it at home, relaxing, I was immediately put off. But the second time, driving across the state to see the woman I love, I found myself almost singing along. So it’s the very rare case of a symphonic metal band creating a…pop song? That’s really what it feels like.

The Weave

Spiders, of course, weave webs. That’s what they’re known for. And weaving is a very important theme in Yesterwynde. Stories are woven. Tapestries are woven. And I’d say that all comes about because fate, in many older traditions, is also something woven.

As for "The Weave" as a song, there’s little to say. It’s definitely a filler track, but at least it has a gimmick: the whole thing is, with one exception, a palindrome. What that means, I have no idea.

Hiraeth

I put this out of order purely to keep "Spider Silk" and "The Weave" together. Well, also because it deserves more words. This is another ballad, one far more downcast than "Sway". For reference, hiraeth is the Welsh word for nostalgia, and thus basically a translation of Yesterwynde itself.

Even if you didn’t know that, you could probably figure it out if you listened to the lyrics. The verses are sung by Troy here, with Floor harmonizing in the refrains. And it does seem to be his song, his time in the spotlight as male lead.

He couldn’t have picked a better one. "Hiraeth" is all about looking back, about reaching out for what has passed us by. It’s sad in a bittersweet way, and it’s all too real. Life is full of hurts, of pain and loss. And that wears us down to the point where we do start to long for the days of old. Pain and sorrow and living with the thought that maybe we could’ve done something different to prevent it—that’s called being human.

And that’s why "Hiraeth" hits hard, despite being tucked away near the end of the album. It’s almost a hidden gem of a "sad" song. It makes you think. It makes you dwell on the past, and then realize what you’re doing.

Lanternlight

Last, we come to "Lanternlight". This is more of a story than a song, a bit of free verse that caps our journey through the rose-tinted world of memory. Musically speaking, it’s really nothing more than Floor Jansen’s rehearsal. If you’ve heard her cover of Heart’s "Alone", you’ll wonder if she used that to practice for this. (If you haven’t heard that, check it out. It’s amazing.)

For some reason, I can’t get through "Lanternlight" without crying, and I don’t really understand why. It’s not overly sad. Very bittersweet, yes, but not something intended to get the tears flowing. All I’ve been able to figure out is a sequence in the penultimate verse: "I hear our song now, sung by the free / For a thousand more tomorrows / Of an incomplete weave". That’s the part that gets misty for me, and the only reason I can think of is because I just don’t believe I’ll even see a thousand more tomorrows.

Conclusion

Overall, Yesterwynde is a good album. It’s not the greatest, far from the worst, and very much a coherent whole. Even the filler tracks ("Spider Silk", "The Weave") contribute to the primary themes of fate, humanity, humanism, and the idea that we live not for ourselves, but for those who are yet to come. That our descendants, our children and their children and their children, will be the ones who tell our story, not us.

On top of that, it’s nostalgic in the music sense, too. At almost every point in the album, you’ll hear something that sounds enough like an older Nightwish song that it tickles your ear and makes you think back to Once or Oceanborn or whatever. It’s new, but it’s not completely fresh. Instead, it builds off what came before.

If anything, that’s the message right there, and I can see how it’s the cap to a trilogy. Endless Forms Most Beautiful set us in our place in the universe, in the chain of evolution that stretches back to the birth of our world. Human :II: Nature places us in the world, contrasting our human ingenuity with the natural wonders around us. And Yesterwynde roots us in time, reminding us that the way we look back on our ancestors is exactly the way we will be looked upon by future generations.

So maybe we should act like it.

I’ve been waiting for this one since the first time I heard the title track. Planet Zero got pushed back from its original April release to today, July 1, due to a manufacturing delay for the vinyl edition. But that’s okay. It’s definitely worth the wait.

Shinedown was, some years ago, my favorite modern rock band. They were the headlining act of the first indoor concert I ever saw—I’m still kicking myself for being too late to see Halestorm open for them—and they just made good music. Their last three albums (Amaryllis, Threat to Survival, and Attention Attention) all felt lackluster to me, and some of that comes from the big letdown after 2008’s amazing The Sound of Madness, which I will call the best rock album of its decade without any hesitation.

But “Planet Zero” sounded like a return to form, and it sounded like it had a message, a purpose. That’s something rock has been getting back to, so why not check it out?

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The intro track sets the tone and the stage, because this is, in a way, a concept album. It’s a quick instrumental with electronic elements, fitting for the futuristic setting. Nothing to write home about, but it tells you that you’re listening to something intended to be cohesive.

No Sleep Tonight

This is the first “real” song on the album, and it’s your typical Shinedown: hard and heavy, but always with a little lift. And a great solo in the middle, which is not what the band is known for. More importantly, though, the lyrics have a distinct theme that resurfaces throughout the course of the album. “We’re tired of being powerless,” it says. And that is a familiar refrain.

Planet Zero

The title track was also the first single. If you haven’t already heard it, you don’t know what you’re missing. It’s even heavier than “No Sleep Tonight” was, with a stronger sense of anger, and that anger is directed towards the woke, towards cancel culture and all its evils. As someone who feels the same, “Planet Zero” resonated with me from the first listen. Finally, here was someone who understood what I was saying.

Welcome

This album has six interstitial tracks. “Welcome” is first, followed by “Standardized Experiences” (track 7), “Do Not Panic” (track 9), “A More Utopian Future” (track 12), “This Is A Warning” (track 16), and “Delete” (track 19). I won’t cover them individually, because they’re basically all the same.

They tell the story of the eponymous Planet Zero, which may or may not be a future version of Earth. (Considering the opener’s title and the fact that, in Orwell’s novel, London had been renamed Airstrip One, I think the parallels are pretty obvious.) On Planet Zero, as the helpful computer voice explains through these tracks, everyone is happy and sociable. They have to be, or else they’re sent in for reeducation or surrendered to the populace for “social judgment”—in other words, canceled.

If that isn’t a direct indictment of modern leftism and the Great Reset, I don’t know what is. It couldn’t be any clearer. Those hateful ideologies have the goal of eliminating nonconformity and thus individualism; Planet Zero is clearly the end result of that, a dystopia called a utopia, a combination of 1984, Brave New World, and The Matrix. That’s the direction our world is heading, so it’s always good when someone with a platform speaks out against it.

Dysfunctional You

After what’s actually a seriously dense metaphor packed into about 30 seconds, “Dysfunctional You” is a jarring contrast. A light melody typical of Amaryllis tends to overshadow some surprisingly deep lyrics. This song, as far as I can tell, is about being yourself even when other people think you’re crazy.

It’s a powerful message when you think about it, and all the more so in our current climate of normalizing every possible peculiarity. But we’re not talking about embracing degeneracy here. No, this is more about those minor or moderate mental disorders we too often treat as much more. They’re not. Working for someone who is dyslexic, I’ve come to understand how it affects a person, but it’s not the end of the world. While anxiety—one of my own maladies—can be crippling at its worst, it’s a part of who I am, and something I’d rather learn to control through my own actions rather than with drugs.

If anything, that’s the message of this song. Be who you are, and be proud of it. Don’t change just to fit in. That goes for the anxious and the depressed as much as for the tomboy being pressured into transitioning.

Dead Don’t Die

Another hard track, another of the back-and-forth pendulum swings that mark Planet Zero. This time, it’s more like classic Shinedown. And that’s a little odd, because it just doesn’t fit with the rest of the album. It doesn’t really continue the dystopian storyline, and it honestly reminds me of nothing so much as “Diamond Eyes” from the soundtrack to The Expendables.

Still, it’s a good song, a nice “you can’t bring me down” anthem that could apply to just about any situation. It doesn’t drag the album down, but it doesn’t do much to pump it up, either. I guess everybody needs some filler every now and then.

America Burning

Track 8 should be the headliner, but I absolutely understand why it was saved for the full album release. If it weren’t, I don’t believe it would’ve come out at all. More than any other song, “America Burning” nails the message of Planet Zero.

Again, it’s a harder one, but forget about the music and focus on the lyrics. “You might be woke but not awake,” one line reads. “Is this apocalypse now? Who let the animals out?”

Anyone who saw the massive riots over the summer of 2020, triggered (at least in part) by the death of a random drug addict, knows what “America Burning” means. Anyone who watched as blatant election fraud was swept under the rug, even as those who stood up for fairness were vilified and jailed, understands the even deeper message. That anyone is brave enough to speak out against the senseless destruction of our country and the indoctrination of our children is astonishing. That it comes in the form of a catchy and memorable song is so much better.

A Symptom Of Being Human

Back to the light side again. As with “Dysfunctional You”, here’s another track about facing the odds to be yourself. In this case, it’s more about feeling out of place, something I can’t help but get. “Sometimes I’m in a room where I don’t belong,” is how the chorus opens; well, that’s just about every room I’ve ever stepped into.

We’re all crazy in our own unique way. That’s a fact of life, and it’s something that progressives, with their desire to neutralize all differences between us, fail to grasp. But that craziness is what gives us life, and what makes that life worth living. It creates society, with all its ups and downs. Mild insanity is, to put it simply, a symptom of being human.

Hope

“Hope” is by far the most inspirational song on this album, and quite possibly one of the brightest Shinedown has ever released. (“I’ll Follow You” and “Unity” from Amaryllis both come close.) The acoustic guitar work and the mildly heavy riffs in the solo give it a quality akin to 90s alternative and pop rock; listening to it, I was reminded more of Collective Soul and Sister Hazel than the band that was banned from MTV for daring to let a white man stare down the barrel of a .45.

Even the subject matter is almost cloyingly positive, but that still manages to fit the tone of the album. If “America Burning” is the realistic look at what our country is facing, “Hope” is the whitepill, the reminder that we can still make it right as long as we’re willing to be true to ourselves.

Clueless And Dramatic

Following a brief interruption from our AI overseer, track 13 jumps right back into harder rock. This time, Brent is railing against what many on the right side of the internet have begun to call the NPC Race, that significant group of people who aren’t ignorant, but shockingly poor at reasoning.

“Clueless and dramatic” is indeed a good way to describe the Twitter blue-checks who show no self-awareness, no memory of recent or historical events, and far too much emotion for something they clearly aren’t emotionally invested in. Think the many, many calls for “my body, my choice” regarding the recent Dobbs ruling, often from the same people who, two years ago, said that the decision whether to take an experimental drug was something the state could and should mandate.

The best defense against these people is to ignore them. And that’s the remedy Shinedown offers: turn it off, save yourself from the clueless and dramatic.

(Also, this song has a nice callback to 45, the band’s first real hit.)

Sure Is Fun

If I didn’t have MP3 tags, I would’ve thought this was Imagine Dragons. I’m not entirely sure what this song is saying or why it’s a part of the album. It sounds more like the lowest points of Attention Attention and the reason why I had given up on Shinedown for a decade. Call it a filler track, really.

Despite that, it’s not too bad. There’s more spitting in the face of wokeness, which is always good. The melody gets stuck in your head. Give it a listen, but there’s really no need to come back to it.

Daylight

“Daylight” was the third single for Planet Zero, and it’s the only true ballad on the album. As I’ve said repeatedly, both on here and in real life, a ballad is a necessary component for a great record. It just is.

When I first heard this one—less than a month ago, but it feels like much longer—I broke down. I truly felt as if the words were meant for me and me alone. Rather, for myself and my partner. “I was diagnosed with a fear of getting too close.” Yeah, that’s me. “Had to tell the ones I love I was on the ropes.” Yep. Did that.

If all goes well, I’m going to meet Leslie in person for the first time next week. After three years of waiting, including the “one year and three months in the dark” of lockdown madness that Brent so eloquently states here, I have finally made it to the point in my life where I can do this. And every single line of this song is what I want to say to the woman I love, the one who has given me a reason to go on throughout it all.

The Saints Of Violence And Innuendo

If you ask me, “Daylight” would have worked better at the end of the album, because how do you follow that up? (It’s the same for “Call Me”, all the way back on The Sound Of Madness, but that one was at the end.)

Well, this isn’t the way. Another stand against the woke mob doesn’t really flow from the tearful reminder of those who get us through the day, and no storyline filler can change that. Still, “Saints” is a great Shinedown song. It has the beat, the feel, and it would fit just anywhere in their discography. Its connection to the story certainly helps it here, however, because it’s easier to see the connection between the title and the target.

Army Of The Underappreciated

“Cry For Help” came out 14 years ago. I’ve probably listened to it a hundred times since then. And, for whatever reason, it’s all I can hear when I listen to this song. They just sound the same.

As with “Saints” before it, “Army” is a little generic. It’s a Shinedown song more than a Planet Zero track. That’s not bad, of course. You do want a band to sound like itself, since that’s what the fans are looking for. On the other hand, there’s nothing in here that stands out.

What You Wanted

Another Imagine Dragons wannabe closes out the album. There’s really not a lot to say about the music, because there’s not much music to deal with. You mostly have Brent singing over a kind of faux marching band and string section.

But this is the end of the story, too. Our visitor to the so-called utopia has been found out, his individualist thinking noted by the authorities. And he doesn’t care.

The lyrics here are a message, an ultimatum to the very real anti-human forces trying to rule the world today. You will not rule forever. Your end will come. And no one will come to your rescue. The pendulum is already swinging back in the other direction, as Dobbs, New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen, West Virginia v. EPA, and Carson v. Makin show. Wokeness is a hateful, divisive ideology, and its followers should be careful not to let that pendulum hit them on its way back. But honestly, they deserve no less.

Conclusion

I won’t say this was the best album I’ve heard. It’s not even the best Shinedown album. But its highs are much higher and more frequent than its lows. It has some really good tracks, not too much filler, and a coherent narrative running through much of it. As a bonus, that narrative is pro-human, pro-freedom, and very courageous in speaking truth to power. I felt the anger of “America Burning” and the, well, hope of “Hope” as much as “Daylight” left me crying.

That’s all I ask for in music: emotion and meaning. I got it here, and I’m glad one of my favorite bands has taken the right stand. That only makes it better.

I’m a metal fan, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m also a fan of stories, and that drew me into the power metal subgenre some two decades ago. Power metal is full of songs about fantasy; “Elvenpath” by Nightwish was my introduction to that, and Blind Guardian’s Nightfall In Middle-Earth remains one of my favorite concept albums of all time.

Sabaton is…a little different. They’re definitely worthy of being called power metal. They use the same style of music, the chord progressions and the riffs and whatnot. Their songs, however, aren’t based on Tolkien or Martin or another fantasy author (who’s going to be the first to write an album set in Sanderson’s Cosmere?), but real life. Specifically, the history of warfare.

Their latest album, The War To End All Wars, carries on as a direct sequel to 2019’s The Great War. As you might expect from the titles, those are both about World War I, and that already predisposes me to liking them. Since I started researching WWI for a school project in 6th grade, I’ve been fascinated by it. Its successor gets all the glory, all the notoriety, but why? This is the First World War we’re talking about here! It’s the birth of airplanes, tanks, trench warfare, and chemical weapons. It’s the last hurrah of cavalry charges and line infantry, and really the birth of “modern” warfare. So why don’t we talk about it more?

Some do. Indy Neidell’s The Great War web series explores the conflict in depth, while always reminding the viewer of the horrors of war in general and this war in particular. I wish I’d known about it when it first started, because it was exactly what I was looking for all those years. And Sabaton clearly thought so, too: they partnered with Neidell to make Sabaton History, which goes into detail about the stories behind their songs.

So let’s talk about those songs. We’ll take it from the top.

Sarajevo

Though the signs were there for years, World War I officially kicked off with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in June 1914. The opening track of the album (as long as you got the proper version) is mostly a spoken-word telling of that historic event by narrator Bethan Dixon Bate, with the band’s refrain interspersed.

“Sarajevo” sets the stage, not the tone. The format reminds me of classical drama, with its narrator/chorus counterpoint in the opening act. The tension rises throughout the track, as Bate speaks of the web of alliances and the failed diplomacy that led to the Battle of the Frontiers and plunged the entire world into a deadly, devastating war for the next four years. From here on out, we’re on the battlefield.

Stormtroopers

Sabaton doesn’t judge. They’ve taken some flak for that in the past, as certain people believe they “idolize” Nazis simply because they don’t always portray them as unspeakably evil. But there are no good guys in war; heroes and legends can come from anywhere. The eponymous Stormtroopers were harbingers of things to come, a preview of the blitzkrieg tactics used by Germany a quarter of a century later, and there’s nothing wrong with telling that tale.

The first actual metal track on the album is very, very metal. Hard and heavy, with the sound that tells you, “This is a Sabaton song.” Which is great. That’s who I’m listening to, after all. The problem is, the song itself feels a little generic to me. It doesn’t have anything to distinguish it, and you could easily fit it into any of their other albums without even trying.

Dreadnought

Except for the sinking of the Lusitania, Americans tend to forget that WWI was a naval war as much as a land war. The Dreadnought battleships that plied the waters of the North Sea get even less attention than the Western Front, and that’s a shame. They were just as innovative as the numerous technological debuts on land, and they changed the face of naval warfare in a way that’s still recognizable today.

As for “Dreadnought” the song, it suffers from the same problem as “Stormtroopers” before it. There’s nothing that singles it out as being part of The War To End All Wars. The music sounds far too much like a reuse of “Bismarck”, a promotional single from a few years ago. And something about Joakim Brodén’s voice sounds…strained. I don’t know if that’s from emotion, illness, or editing, but it’s stood out every time I’ve listened to the track.

The Unkillable Soldier

Here’s a case where Sabaton didn’t do the subject justice, but that’s because nobody ever could. Adrian Carton de Wiert was a legend. He was basically the Terminator a hundred years early. Shoot him in the eye, and he just laughs it off. Take him prisoner, and he’ll escape. And he was everywhere that mattered. If you want to make an action movie about WWI (and WWII, and the Boer War…) then he’s your guy.

The song’s great, too. It captures the madness of the war and the madness of its maddest of madmen. After two tracks that don’t really distinguish themselves, “The Unkillable Soldier” sounds fresh and powerful. (As an aside, it also has a video, where Carton de Wiert is played by the aforementioned Indy Neidell. That had to be an excuse to torture the poor historian.)

Soldier of Heaven

One of the great things about metal is the way it has room to take in other genres. Folk metal is an industry these days. A few metal artists incorporate rap in ways that make it bearable. Sabaton, though, occasionally tosses in what sounds like electropop elements. 2019’s “Attack of the Dead Men” did it, and “Soldier of Heaven” does in its intro. Take that little bit of discordance out, and you have an upbeat song that hides a truly chilling story.

White Friday (which fell on a Wednesday, oddly enough) saw thousands of soldiers perish in a series of avalanches. The forces of Austria-Hungary were camped atop Gran Poz, while Italians had massed in the Val Ciampi d’Arei. Heavy snow and frigid weather were major factors in the war already; a disastrous Ottoman advance into subzero temperatures served as one excuse for the decisions that led to the Armenian Genocide.

But avalanches are sudden. They strike without warning, and without care for nationality. On White Friday, they buried both Austrian and Italian forces. “Soldier of Heaven” speaks from the perspective of one soldier, presumably Austrian, who has scaled the mountain only to fall victim to the rushing snow. His body frozen in the avalanche, frozen in time, he waits for spring to come and release his body from its icy prison. Wow.

Hellfighters

The perfect contrast, isn’t it? The Harlem Hellfighters were considered the dregs of the American army at the time. Composed mostly of black and Puerto Rican soldiers, the 369th had to earn its place in history, and earn they did. Forced to fight longer than most other regiments, they served as an example of many things, but drive is certainly at the top.

In a time of pandering to minorities, it’s refreshing to see someone who bucks the trend and looks at people as…well, people. This isn’t “The Lost Battalion” but black. There are echoes, however. Both songs have that same sort of desperation in their words, making you feel like you’re among the men, waiting as they are for the day you can leave the trenches and go home.

Race to the Sea

The Race to the Sea was one of the early events in WWI, the start of the trench warfare that was its lasting legacy. In Belgium, the first country to be invaded, King Albert I didn’t want to see his realm fall, so he took matters into his own hands. Literally. World War I was the last war among monarchs. King, kaiser, and tsar all had a part to play—never mind that the major players were cousins—but Albert was the only one who took the field.

The song “Race to the Sea” tells that story, and it does so in a way that lets the listener feel the pride Belgian forces must have felt at seeing their king fighting beside them. “For king and country” is relegated to history and fantasy these days, but the Battle of the Yser might be one of the last times men truly meant it. Sabaton turns it into an anthem here, an ode to the nationalism of bygone days.

Lady of the Dark

I knew about most of the stories on the album already. I hadn’t heard of the White Friday avalanches or Adrian Carto de Wiert, but the rest were new to me only in details. “Lady of the Dark” is altogether different, because it’s about a soldier from Serbia, and Serbia usually flies under my radar.

Milunka Savić, by contrast, flies under everyone’s radar, as she has for about a hundred years. Her brother was drafted into the Serbian Army, but she went in his place, dressing as a man until she was wounded in battle, then fighting openly as a woman and becoming one of the most decorated female soldiers of all time. But here’s the thing people today won’t understand: she got those awards and honors because of her deeds, not because of her sex. She wasn’t a token woman or a mascot, nor did she want to be either.

As with “Hellfighters” earlier, this is a case where Sabaton turns modern progressivism on its head. Yes, their song emphasizes that Savić was a woman, calling her “the girl in uniform” in the chorus, but it always comes back to the fact that she was fighting for her family. “Lady of the Dark” is one of the brightest lights in the darkness of this war-themed album, for both its message and its music.

The Valley of Death

Here’s another story I didn’t know before. The Battle of Doiran pitted Allied forces against those of Bulgaria. Most Americans today couldn’t find Bulgaria on a labeled map, so I’ll forgive you if you think this is a filler track. In actuality, it’s a last stand worthy of, well, The Last Stand. Bulgarian forces held out against a numerically and technologically superior force by virtue of their heavy defenses and the sheer will of their commander, who was later honored by his enemies.

One of the things I love most about Sabaton is the way they make you interested in a story almost no one has ever heard before. “Last Dying Breath” and “The Final Battle” are two good examples from earlier albums, and “The Valley of Death” adds to that list. It’s not a standout track in the musical sense. It’s a little piece of forgotten history, a gem that shines through.

Christmas Truce

In the last week of 1914, something strange and wonderful happened. All along the Western Front, men of the Allied and Central Powers threw down their guns, walked into No Man’s Land, and shook hands. They talked to their enemy, shared a drink, swapped stories, and told the war to wait. Why? Because it was Christmas.

The Christmas Truce, as it became known, was quite possibly the last widespread display of civility in war. Nowadays, we’re used to seeing bombed-out buildings and castrated Russian POWs, and we’re urged to forget that those people we’re fighting are humans just like us. In 1914, the propaganda hadn’t set in, and there was still a sense, even after four months of horror, that war was a gentleman’s pursuit.

Sabaton captures this perfectly. The track starts with a hauntingly beautiful intro that draws from “Carol of the Bells”, also the source of “Christmas Eve – Sarajevo 12/24” by Trans-Siberian Orchestra, the song that invented modern Christmas rock. Joakim’s vocals then begin to speak of a soldier in the trenches hearing the guns fall silent, seeing the men who had been trying to kill him instead offering their hands in friendship. “Today we’re all brothers,” he says. “Tonight we’re all friends.” That’s something we lost, and we’re poorer for it.

Versailles

“Christmas Truce” could have been the end of the album, and I’d be happy. But the troops didn’t come home by Christmas, as was initially promised. Instead, they stayed in the trenches another four years, until November 11, 1918. And the true end of the war didn’t come for almost a year after that, with Germany’s unconditional surrender at Versailles the following summer.

Our narrator returns for this outro track, speaking of the treaty and the events that led to it. She then turns an eye to the future. American forces return home. Russia has to handle the Communist Revolution that would almost destroy it. Borders are redrawn all over the world as the era of colonialism comes into its final act. (Forgotten in all this is the partitioning of the Ottoman Empire under the Sykes-Picot agreement, the direct cause of today’s troubles in the Middle East, but I digress.)

World War I was known as the war to end all wars. Today, that very phrase has become formulaic, and we interpret it as a claim of superiority. In its time, however, it was meant literally. The war was so destructive, and it reshaped the world so greatly, that it was believed to be the last of its kind. Yet it took barely two decades from Versailles to the Sudetenland, and those two events are directly correlated.

That’s the lesson to take from WWI. Not the intricacies of trench warfare or the geopolitical ramifications of three cousins fighting each other using millions of men (and the occasional woman disguised as one) as pawns. No, the strategies and tactics don’t matter in the long run. What matters is what we can learn from the events of the 1910s and what came after, how they compare to the things we’re seeing right now.

Nazism grew because of the privations forced upon the German people during the Weimar Republic; in America today, the people are beginning to suffer from the same hardships. The “eternal” Israel-Palestine conflict didn’t start until two peoples were forced together, and that never would have happened without the First World War. The tsar, leader of Russia for centuries and ruler of lands stretching from Kiev to Vladivostok, fell to Communist hordes, birthing one of the most deadly regimes of the 20th century.

History repeats itself, and we are witnessing that firsthand. While Sabaton may not be on the front lines in Mariupol, they’re watching the current war with interest, because who knows? It might be the spark that fuels a greater conflagration. Such things have happened before. The assassination of a noble plunged the entire world into war for four years, killing tens of millions. The treaty that ended this war subjugated a people and provided Hitler with the perfect foil. The two armies who destroyed his Third Reich then turned their sights—but not their weapons, thankfully—on each other, resulting in a series of proxy wars all over the world, the latest of which started a few short weeks ago.

I’ll give The War To End All Wars an 8 out of 10, but understand that this includes a bonus point for its timing. The world needs to hear this album, the stories within it. Even if you don’t like metal or history, it’s worth a listen. And then, when you’re reading the latest dispatches from Donbass, you’ll hear the echoes.