Kamelot – The Awakening
Release Date: 17th March 2022
Label: Napalm Records
Bandcamp
Genre: Modern Symphonic Metal
FFO: Nightwish, Stratovarius, Rhapsody.
Review By: Kira L. Schlechter
Symphonic metal lends itself perfectly to all sorts of grandiose, fantastical subject matter, as we know. But it’s even more interesting when it’s used to convey more personal, less abstract thoughts and feelings present in the human condition.
That’s what Kamelot has done on its first album in five years, “The Awakening,” and that’s a pretty apt title for what’s going on within it.
Singer Tommy Karevik, guitarist Thomas Youngblood, keyboardist Oliver Palotai, bassist Sean Tibbetts, and drummer Alex Landenburg – with guests violinist Florian Janoske and cellist Tina Guo – have crafted a series of expansive but yet economical tracks here, with all the hallmarks of symphonic metal in the orchestration, Thomas’ bedrock riffs and textbook solos, and Oliver’s measured keyboard work.
The “Overture (Intro),” dramatic and tender, serves as a suitable lead-in to the opener proper, “The Great Divide.” With a stirring melody full of their trademark high drama and propelled by Alex’s wonderfully light double-kick drumming, this seems to be a vow being made to a loved one who has kept this troubled person sane – “When this madness was all I knew/You would never hold me.” But that person has done him harm too – “Sleepless I have wondered/if my brokenness was you” and “Like a martyr I have stumbled/Through the chaos you leave behind.” The sweeping chorus has a Celtic lilt to it as he professes, “You will be my paramour” and “We will rise again forevermore.” The bridge is forlorn and desperate, Tommy dreading the “ghostlike shadows/Howling in my head” and the “fearful voices,” but pleading, “I am not alone/When you are here,” his voice a mix of vulnerable and determined.
Tommy is intriguing in that he’s not your typical metal vocalist. He’s far more in the mold of a Broadway/West End type – he loves playing with the rhythm of words or slipping into a brief falsetto here and there, his subtle voice always a sleek, stretchy coo. Sometimes, though, he gets lost in the massiveness of the arrangements, like in the pre-chorus here, where he could be mixed a touch louder, and in the chorus, which is the punchline of the entire song, of course, a moment where he should be loud and clear.
Described in the bio as a ”farewell to a loved one,” “Eventide” is filled with moving detail. Tommy looks back in memory: “Here you are again/Just like so many times before/To share with me the stories of our lives” in the first verse; in the second, he is an observer, describing how “Lovingly he reads the final chapter/They ever wrote/The company more comforting/Than words could ever say.” Again, it’s more the memory that’s meaningful here. The chorus focuses on the profound bond they had – “Companions til all hope has died … Your song shall guide me through my house of pain.” The bridge makes wonderful paraphrasing use of the Dylan Thomas quote, “We did not go quietly into the night,” as the perspective shifts and the friend bids final goodbye to the one left behind, vowing, “I will be there waiting with a smile/When you arrive.” The last chorus, too, changes point of view, as the friend returns the promise, “My song shall guide you through/Your house of pain.”
The emotional first single “One More Flag in the Ground,” with its rolling, tumbling rhythm and touches of Eastern melody, again borrows a bit from literature in its opening line, “I am an island.” John Donne, however, said, “NO man is an island,” so this really gets across one, the isolation this person has felt, and two, their determination to rejoin the land of the living, as it were. The band has said this is about beating mental and physical challenges, and it’s exactly that, warlike imagery and all. But the real point of it is the chorus itself – “one more flag in the ground” is one more obstacle overcome, one more challenge handled, a clever way to reword the clichéd “one day at a time.” There’s a terrific lyrical twist from the first verse – ‘With fear as my faithful companion” – to the second – “With faith as my fearless companion” – that really shows the character’s growth. And he’s doing it with help, he’s no longer isolated: “Your hand on my shoulder/’Cause I am not walking alone.” It’s powerful in sentiment and a great track sonically as well.
They switch to full-on theatrical mode in “Opus of the Night (Ghost Requiem),” with its thundering drumming and billowing crescendos. It’s kind of a cross between “Sunset Boulevard” and “Phantom of the Opera” thematically, Tommy taking the role of the tragic actress’s biggest fan. She meets her end at the beginning of the song, and it seems like this is Tommy looking back on his quasi-relationship with her, begging in the pre-choruses that he “waited/Longed for the day/To show you/To take you away” and that he wanted her to “Seduce me/Take me away.” The very Broadway-esque chorus is an ode to her, “the queen of the symphony,” but again, Tommy’s voice is overshadowed a bit by the musical goings-on. The second verse and the bridge seem to show she was trying to make a comeback, with “Trembling steps into a world she had forgotten … Familiar the notes upon the sheet” and later, “A dark silhouette/Lingering age-old desperation/Reviving grand nostalgia/Come shivers of pure admiration.” The requiem-like ending is truly touching: “One last encore for the queen of the stage/One final bow for the old prima donna,” and now it’s his turn to pay homage, to “sing to you/The opus of the night,” which he does in a delicate, lovely falsetto.
Tommy takes center stage, so to speak, in the glorious, Celtic-tinged ballad “Midsummer’s Eve,” with its gothic romance all up the yin-yang. His voice is stunning here, full of ache and longing as he gently tempts the “maiden of mist” in the first verse, “Come pain, come grief/Come precious relief/Memories fade in the dark” and later, “I dare you to walk by my side.” By the last verse, he’s showing her perhaps the two of them in old age, using the passing of the seasons to echo that idea: “As the autumn bids us farewell/I’ll sing you our song/The same old heartfelt words/Just one last time.” As they began in midsummer, so they end in autumn. The chorus so wants to burst out, and it does, but just for the first line – the remainder is admirably held in check and stays that way each time. And the end, as he softly croons, “Queen of mine,” is heartbreaking.
“Bloodmoon” is marked by several interesting tempo changes throughout, handled deftly by Alex. Its tone in the first verse is accusatory, a father filled with self-blame for the fate of his son (“You abandoned him/When he needed you the most/You walked away/And left him there to die”). The second verse is the son’s perspective – “The young boy believed/He had to earn his father’s love … But now I’ve learned/That I must love you from afar” – and he resigns himself to that, in a beautiful turn of imagery, “I am burning the letters/I wrote in my mind.” The chorus, then (and they are masters of the potent chorus), applies to both characters as they accept their end, and the end of their suffering – “my sweet Azraelle (the angel of life and death)/I welcome you.”
“Nightsky,” with its insistent, pattering drumming, could be personifying self-confidence in the verses: “Even when I’m gone/And you can’t see me/I’ll be there to whisper in your veins” in the first, and later, in the chorus, “I’m watching over you.” The idea of the “night sky,” by inference, might be depression – “when the darkness falls … remember your name,” that is, your self, who you are. It’s a clever way to address the concept. The depiction of that slide into the darkness is really effective in the truncated second verse as Tommy sings, “Desperation/You feel like you’re losing control/Even in the smallest vibrations,” his voice nervously skittering up into falsetto and back down again. One slight misstep occurs in the bridge: Tommy delivers the pointed line, “Being brave does not mean you’re not afraid/It means you do it anyway,” but Thomas’ simultaneous solo is too loud in the mix, and we lose that line almost entirely.
A sweepingly optimistic piano melody guides “The Looking Glass,” an examination of resilience and determination. The first verse is an imaginary scenario: what if you got all that you wished for, “a world of abundance and glory/Where fear is a servant of you,” a place where you could flourish, “where the mind of the weary/Can bloom with the grace of a rose” (such lovely imagery there). But we know there’s no such thing, so we have to do it ourselves, as Tommy notes determinedly in the pre-chorus. The chorus then points out that if we didn’t overcome adversity, we’d never get to the good parts of life: “What if the heart was never broken/How can we stand up and walk/If we never learn how to fall,” coming to the conclusion that “There’s a way for us all/To make peace with the pain.” Thomas’ solo before the bridge is gritty and tense, echoing the struggle, and the bridge is reflective, kind of putting things in perspective: “From a distance, what are we/But remnants of a fallen star” (we are a small part of a much larger whole). By the end, with the final line of the chorus, the healing is well under way.
The terse “New Babylon” has a definite political bent from the start, choir vocals chanting “Beware the dynasty/Spreading conformity” and “We are born, we are sold, we’re deprived/Of the chance for the truth, of our rights.” Tommy vows defiance in the first verse, “I’ve faced the world alone/Yet never will I sway/Never back away/From the edge of the light.” In the chorus, his vocals ride alongside the choir’s chant, which has added the sinister lines “Now swear in conformity.” Melissa Bonny of Ad Infinitum briefly joins him, rather aptly, in the pointed second verse, “Arrival of a newborn child/A miracle of life/The freedom of a choice,” which must be a reference to reproductive rights. By the bridge, we’ve thrown off the chains – “Another tyrant lays to die … And the crowd goes wild/As they silence the sound of the drum/That led them astray” – and a harsh vocal heralds the victory, “By the hands of the small/Every giant must fall.” The last run-through of the chorus, then, now feels like a warning, like don’t let this happen again. Words to the wise.
Oliver’s sensitive, wistful piano begins “Willow,” someone at the end of life looking back on joys (“Endless days, eternal nights”), remembering accomplishments (“Anthem for the old and free/Never left my memory/I sang it proudly”), and bidding farewell to a loved one (“Thank you for your humble grace/So motherly the love you gave me/In your care I grew to be/The man I have become”). Tommy’s aching, again theatrical, voice suits the sentiment so well in the poignant chorus with its picturesque imagery, “My memories remain my pillow/As I fall asleep.” If there was one critique here, it would be that ballooning the song, in pure symphonic metal fashion, in the second chorus (and keeping it that way almost till the end) kind of cuts the thoughtful mood. Then again, it does make Tommy’s hushed final lines, with their theme of resurrection and rebirth, “When my eyes have seen it all/I shall return,” even more powerful.
“My Pantheon (Forevermore)” is an interesting ending, tying maybe a little into the previous track thematically. This is a character again looking back, “Wilting summer nights/Coming to an end/Reaching for salvation/Yearning for the truth.” A pantheon is defined as all of the gods, or a group of respected, famous, or important people. In this context though, this person’s pantheon consists of a lone hero, as the chorus says, “When all your heroes have fallen/Say a prayer for the valour of one” – as if to say I’ve been disappointed by all the rest, but one remains to inspire me and that’s enough. That hero has been wise and steadfast, Tommy says, and is there at the end when they are needed most: “You held my hand so patiently/Caressed my deepest fears/In memoriam of faded years/Stand brave my Pantheon.”
Then lastly, “Ephemera (Outro)” is a credits-rolling, audience-leaving-the-theater type of piece, referencing musical themes from the album. Not entirely necessary, but brief enough not to take away from the potency of “Pantheon.”
This more introspective material, coupled with the uniqueness of Tommy’s voice, sets “The Awakening” on its own trajectory in the symphonic metal subgenre. And the more perspectives, the merrier.
(4.5 / 5)
