Civil War – Invaders
Release Date: 17th June 2022
Label: Napalm Records
Bandcamp
Genre: Historical Power Metal.
FFO: Sabaton, Iron Maiden.
Review By: Kira L. Schlechter
Metal and the annals of history go perfectly together. Sweden’s Civil War is one of the more recent purveyors of this idea, and they have a knack for not only doing their research, but for also relating complex events in easy-to-digest songs.
This is the fourth album for singer Kelly Sundown Carpenter, guitarist Thorbjörn “Thobbe” Englund (late of Sabaton), keyboardist Daniel Mÿhr, bassist Petrus Granar, and drummer Daniel Mullback in the historical metal vein of the Sabs. But rather than being strictly conceptual (one specific war, or a group of heroic figures, for instance), these tracks span a host of topics from a host of time periods and venture into the literary realm as well.
The stage is set for “Oblivion” with Middle Eastern-sounding strings and an equally-so groove, which the guitar melodies pick up and religiously (if you will) maintain throughout to wonderful majestic effect. It gives everything a ponderous, insistent lilt, especially the chorus. This is divine retribution – the Creator is pretty ticked off at the mess we’ve made (“My garden poisoned by a selfish blight/Drunk on avarice, full of spite/Far from grace you’ve fallen” and “All I gave/You desecrate”). And Kelly’s voice is rather like what you might imagine god’s to be – a bit snarling, a bit soaring, with plenty of vibrato. The second verse is him listing our punishments (with a touch of the book of Exodus mixed in): “My locusts swarming … spreading sickness on the wind … the earth will shake/The seas will rage.” And the chorus has him washing his hands of us for good: “I turn the page/On this curse they call Humanity.” It’s a powerful, head-swinging declaration, enjoyable each time, and at the end, you want it to happen twice to drive home the point.
“Dead Man’s Glory” depicts Irish resistance against a Viking invasion, and again, the music exactly matches the subject matter, with loads of orchestration, keyboards in a vaguely Irish melody (they rely plenty on Daniel throughout), and a sprightly jig-like tempo. In displaying their innate sense of Sabaton-esque economy, this brief story boasts well-chosen details (the invaders come “from the North, pillaging hoards” and “As the longships break shore/The horn blast of war, shatters the still of our Emerald Isle”) and plenty of you-won’t-break-us fist-shaking (“Victory’s in sight/Brothers be brave/And we’ll live as they’ll die ‘neath the Irish sky”) before finishing on another double chorus.
The title track is the story of the Battle of the Wabash, in 1791, in which the Western Confederacy of Native Americans defeated the U.S. military in the largest defeat ever by Native Americans. Thankfully here, though, there’s no quasi-Native American instrumentation or appropriation, and good for them – instead it’s hard and fast, frantic and angry. And it has two distinct parts. The first is the lead-up to the battle, showing how they’ve been pushed to the breaking point: “Paleface comes to ravage our birthplace/Burning villages, murdering babes,” and “Washington sends the orders and men with guns/Seizing everything but the sun” (a great line), and “Traitors, no more signing your papers/We’re not born to be prisoners/We won’t walk in your chains/When all is done/We will cut out your double tongue” (another great line). The pre-chorus is the call to arms; the chorus the vow (“Right the wrong through the blood and bone/Vengeance our path to glory/Drive the invaders from our land”). Part two is then the battle and its tactics (“At first light, from the forest we’ll rush and strike”). There is a spoken bridge that’s definitely a nod to Native American philosophy (and one we’d do well to remember), saying in part, “the Earth does not belong to man/Man belongs to the Earth” and “All things are connected” and “Man did not weave the web of life/He is merely a strand in it/Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.”
“Heart of Darkness” draws from fiction; it’s based on the Joseph Conrad novella of the same name. Kelly takes on the persona of one of the two main characters, Charles Marlow, a sailor who takes on a job as a ferry captain in Africa. There’s only a tiny bit of drumming that gives the music that feel; it’s mostly driving and insistent. Here too, the action is in two parts, first the fear and unease Marlow feels as he ventures through the jungle, and there’s terrific imagery there – “Crawling slithering shadows/Seem to coil around me, holding tight … The strangling vines on the shore/Twist on through the darkness forever/Like hangmen’s rope they sway.” Kelly’s voice, in its midrange, is equally eerie and tense, you can feel his disquiet. The second is meeting the other main character, ivory trader Captain Kurtz, first touted as “A talented man, come to bring the light/Sent to break the savage curse.” But we find he is the real “savage” (“I see the madness in his eyes/A petty, murderous tyrant/Upon a throne of blood and flies”). And here, Kelly’s voice rises into its higher register, clearly reflecting Marlow’s horror and disgust. The simple chorus, “Oh, heart of darkness/Oh, heart of man,” is simply that – they are one and the same.
Back to history we go with “Andersonville,” a stately power ballad that should be exactly that, considering the subject – a tale of the infamous Confederate prison told through a Union soldier’s letter to his wife. It’s moving without being sappy, just enough without going over the top. Again, their storytelling touch is deft, Kelly’s voice tender as he tells of the soldier’s capture and his “dreams of reaching home again.” The first run-through of the chorus is hopeful: “I’m coming back again/God knows how or when/But I’ll find my way/We’ll live a simple life/The day I bid farewell/To Andersonville.” But as captivity wears on (“The months have wrought us skin and bones”), he envies the dead and knows his time is limited. His hope fades, and the second chorus reflects that perfectly: “My broken soul awaits an end to the pain/As I pass the line, may the bullet find its mark.” The third is the inevitable end told through a very subtle lyric shift: “No coming back again, an end to the pain … I bid farewell to you/And Andersonville.”
Bright and optimistic, “Carry On” is uber power metal (with its keyboard/string flourishes) and pretty self-explanatory, if a wee bit clichéd (with its chorus, which urges “Seize the day before it’s gone,” in part). But insightful lines like “So will you stand or feed the crow?/Only you know” and “The hollow eyes of broken pride/Can’t see where hope has flown” make up for that a bit, as does the slight key change that makes the last chorus a bit darker and more self-doubting.
Synth effects at the start and at points throughout give “Soldiers and Kings” an otherworldly/futuristic feel, as do the pounding staccato rhythms. This is being spoken by a Merlin/druidic figure (“A seer, a devil some call me/Wild man of the wood/A council to rulers of men”) who has been usurped (“One God comes to drive out the many/With crosses and swords/They hack up the roots of the old ways”). The refrain of “Over, over and over” gives this a more universal meaning, as does the second verse, where this character notes, “How many times have I pleaded with you/To open your eyes to the Mystery/Just to swing from a rope or burn on a fiery stake.” The pointed line, “Mankind’s future has sailed/Each new search for the Grail (whatever that is, be it religion or what have you)/Ends in murder” is sharply accurate. The chorus is a dramatic condemnation (“warring forever like soulless machines”), as is the character periodically checking on us through time and finding that nothing changes (“As I look through the veil (of time)/At your cursed bloody trail/It’s all burning,” and later, “One more look to the veil/One more murder”).
Another Native American reference comes in “Warrior Soul,” although this is more an amalgamation of those who fought assimilation and tyranny than one particular person. Thundering and potent, it’s a brief profile of the title character using carefully selected details: “Skin of leather and heart of stone,” “Proud on my face, the painted black hand,” signifying success in hand-to-hand combat, in the first verse; the fighter “who swallows his enemy’s parting wail,” well-worded, in the second). It manages to be respectful without resorting to caricature. The chorus, laden with overdubbed choir vocals, is another vow to avenge the wrongs that have been perpetrated by “the yellow hide.”
One could call the harrowing, nervy “Slaughterhouse 5” – a vaguely general reference to the Vonnegut novel that touches on its anti-war/time-traveling/reincarnation/nuclear holocaust plot constructs – a Cliffs Notes set to music. The Billy Pilgrim character is called upon once again to witness events – Kelly’s voice is kind of trippy and weary at the start before he sees nothing’s improved while he was gone, and his higher register clearly conveys his frustration (“Death is raining from the blackened sky/Souls scream in fire” and “A tyrant waves another bloody flag/Children play soldier/As everything smolders”). The chorus has Kelly and the choir alternating lines and is set to a gorgeous, although creepy, melody; it’s really effective at conveying him being called back to life, the almost druggy confusion “where to and to is fro” (a very nice play on words). It ends on a deconstructed version of that chorus that devolves into chaotic nightmare as Pilgrim resists the call to return once again (“Save me from the slaughterhouse”).
The last official track, “Battle Of Life,” is much like “Carry On” thematically, that sort of cheerleading, you-can-do-it idea. But it, too, is rescued from the trite with thoughtful couplets like “Every hill seems a mountain high/When you linger too long in its shadow” and “Every day can be like a stone/If you carry your life like a burden/Just like wings only our back, they’re sewn/Trust in their strength and you’re soaring.” It rushes along at a nice headlong pace and doesn’t drag on or get bogged down, both of which are pluses.
The bonus track, “Custer’s Last Stand,” is a 10th anniversary re-recording of their documenting of the famed battle. Backed by crisp triplet drumming and muscular riffing, it’s a fine addition here, if not completely necessary. It does drive home their storytelling prowess, though – the first verse documents what happened and introduces the players (the Native American alliance, the leadership of Crazy Horse, Custer’s fatal mistake); the second is commentary (“June 25, a day to remember forever/The Indian Wars at 1876/A nation burned, but what have we learned?” and “The present, the future, and past/Tells us that nothing has changed”).
“Invaders” is a fine effort all told, and it would only benefit by losing the two “rah-rah” tracks mentioned. In some ways, they take away from Civil War’s mission and greatest strength, which is depicting history and literature in their own unique, concise way. 
(4 / 5)
