“The binding of Elders, the rending of worlds. With dark winds in the sails of Theseus unfurled.”
Let’s start with the crux of my appreciation for The Wise Man’s Fear: I am a sucker for great storytelling, ambience, and chunky riffs offset by catchy clean vocals in metalcore. With this in mind, there are few who fit the bill as well as the Indiana sextet, and it is fortunate for me that, unlike the series from which their name is taken, they are constantly releasing new content. Their 2017 album, The Lost City, is one of few records to which I would assign a resounding 10/10. Since then, from a technical standpoint, the self-proclaimed fantasycore outfit have only improved.
The release cycle for Atlas Ruinica began a year ago with the release of opening single “Tailspin”, which was by far my most played song of 2022 and whose thematic breakdown is still every bit as satisfying in the context of the record. It continues where standalone single “Through Inferno” left off, which was itself a bridge from the band’s initial trilogy (Castle in the Clouds, The Lost City, and Valley of Kings) to the anthological narrative of Atlas Ruinica.
From the first note, opening with the roar of a jet engine, the band’s strong aesthetic leaps out at the listener. Bouncy riffs, dripping ambience, and a flawless interplay of clean vocalist Tyler Eads and unclean vocalist/summoner of demons Joe Dennis make “Tailspin” one of the most accessible yet rewarding metalcore tracks of last year, and a great introduction to both the band and the record. Dennis is likely the reason the plane crashed, because his verse/pre-chorus rendition rips open a hole in the fabric of time and space.
“Where the Sky is Empty” jumps forward to the pilot’s niece perusing the possessions of her now-deceased uncle, exploring a more melodic aspect of the band’s sound. Even so, it still concludes with a wonderful breakdown in which Dennis experiments with new vocal types, uttering out glottal pseudo-brees and demonic highs overtop the song’s leaping guitar riffs. The ambient-electronic bridge, straight from Eads’ side project, INAC, shows one of the band’s many strengths – the mutual creative input of all members and their ability to switch effortlessly between genres.
Next then: violins. Violins are one of my favourite instruments to hear incorporated into metallic music, and they are also exemplary at complimenting a fantastical soundscape. Thus, in light of the band’s ardour for including unorthodox instruments – anyone familiar with The Wise Man’s Fear will recall the famous pan flute breakdown in “Tree of Life” – it is surprising that bowed strings have been historically underutilised. Third track “Slumbering World” corrects that wholeheartedly. Again, the ambient bridge steals the show, stripping the instrumentals back to allow the symphonic moments to shine and establish a truly cinematic lull. The crushing guitarwork and percussion which follows is made all the more impactful for the band’s attention to atmosphere and construction of these tracks as journeys in miniature.
The only word which with I can describe “The Strength to Bury a Friend”, the ballad of the album, is ‘beautiful’; the lyrics, Eads’ isolated vocals, and the gentle piano melody makes it one of the most resonant and haunting tracks of 2022. It’s an ode which will undoubtedly speak to anyone who has had the misfortune of losing someone close to them. Yet, the melancholy is poignant, not depressing – when the track opens up with the rest of the band coming into frame, the subtle lyrical switch-up makes it empowering. The character (the story’s protagonist, Elise) overcomes their grief. Make no mistake, I use ‘character’ loosely here; “The Strength to Bury a Friend” is a track which, detached from the band’s expertly crafted narrative allegory, touches on the heart of the human condition.
“Why does death take its toll? Why did death take his soul?
And when the end is drawing near, everyone is consumed by their darkest fears.
Desperately grabbing for anything that pulls them from the deep.
So you pray for sleep, but you won’t find comfort there.
Dreaming of escape won’t kill the nightmares.”
“Sunchaser” rounds out the first half of the album, picking up where “The Strength to Bury a Friend” left off. Elise channels her emotions positively, resolving to champion her uncle’s cause. “Fight the fear. Let the sunlight shape your heart’s road, not your sorrow.” The song reflects that, opting for an airy soundscape reminiscent of a Miyazaki soundtrack, completely with twinkly keys. A perfect listen for hot summer afternoons, “Sunchaser” serves as a nice breather before the rest of Atlas Ruinica bludgeons the listener with more fierce riffs and monstrous vocals.
When I spoke to the band back in April, “The Rival” was posited as the catchiest chorus. It certainly merits that claim. One of the band’s more riffy affairs, it channels a more classic metalcore sound, accented by great production and a phenomenal vocal feature from Red Handed Denial and CrazyEightyEight vocalist Lauren Babic. Her verse is one of the fiercest performances she has delivered in a long time, and the track climaxes with a male-female harmonisation that stretches her singing range to its limits.
The song does feel a touch too chorus-reliant, but it’s a fantastic one, so it’s difficult to complain. As a whole, the choruses across the record are truly stellar – the combination of unique lyricism and Eads’ distinctive singing style makes for lines which are infectious, memorable, and instantly recognisable from their respective songs. Not a one falls flat or sounds like a recycled melody from another track, which is a common occurrence in the current state of the genre. After “The Rival”, the album ramps up quickly in intensity. The Wise Man’s Fear records always have one deathcore-adjacent track which forms a portal to hell in one’s speakers.
For Atlas Ruinica, that’s “The Absence of Light”. Quite literally, the song opens a portal in the narrative. It’s a blackened track which pairs Mongolian throat chanting, haunting cleans, and some Make Them Suffer-esque piano to form one of the eeriest and most dynamic tracks of the band’s discography. It would have been easy to cheaply indulge in the heaviness, but the song ebbs and flows in a way which creates true atmosphere, with each member at the top of their game. Thomas Barham’s bass is palpable, almost claustrophobic, and the intertwining guitarlines of Codi Chambers and Nathan Kane navigate smoothly between groovy, unnerving, and straight up pummelling.
“Mazerunner” continues the eldritch vibe with a more synthetic approach, swapping the turbulent leads of “The Rival” and the hefty chugs of “The Absence of Light” for arpeggios, 808s, and crushing picking. Padded, futuristic synths offer higher-frequency contrast to the low bass and guitarwork, and there is another spectacular vocal contribution from SPAWN’s Nathan Morfoot. Producer Lee Albrecht’s influence, both creatively and production-based, is written across the album. The thick, djenty guitars teased on “Through Inferno” and brought to the fore across Atlas Ruinica are a welcome development to the more pristine guitars of the previous record.
The last two tracks perfectly display both sides of The Wise Man’s Fear’s sound. Penultimate track “Sea of Fire” leaps right out of the gates. While not as overall heavy as “The Absence of Light”, the breakdown is downright gnarly, with guitar slides, Dennis’ most unhinged vocal performance, and some ferocious, rapid percussion from drummer Paul Lierman that leaves me tired just from hearing it. This will undoubtedly feature in a number of ‘best breakdown of the year’ lists come December, and rightfully so. Pair that with the striking chorus, booming bass drops, and galloping riffs, and it has all the hallmarks of being a metalcore classic.
“Solomon’s Gate” wraps up the record in an appropriately epic fashion. Swathed in layers of ambience, the track is littered with layers yet never feels like the band is trying to do too much. It’s a mature and experimental take on their sound, with an emphasis on the cinematic. The interplay between Eads and guest vocalist Jordan Radvansky throughout the band’s new longest song is exquisite; unlike the other features, which play within their heavier soundscape, it’s a full and textured singing performance which enhances the breadth of the song.
Chugs and intricate leads, keys and punchy kicks, falsettos and soaring cleans, the closer is a buoyant journey which perfectly concludes Atlas Ruinica on a positive and somewhat seraphic note. The last lines, “This is the end, end of my story. We meet again, the sky has been emptied, spiralling through the clouds,” bring the narrative full circle – a parting demonstration of Lierman’s lyrical prowess and The Wise Man’s Fear’s attention to detail.
Atlas Ruinica is without a doubt the band’s most varied and best-produced release to date, despite also being their longest. The piano melodies and subtle strings scattered throughout – from the scenic to the uplifting to the downright menacing – lend what is a very diverse collection of tracks a deliberate and natural cohesiveness. Another heavy-centred track would have been a welcome addition towards the end of the tracklist, but it’s hard to deny the individuality of each song and the level of care and talent that went into producing this record. It’s one I wholeheartedly recommend to anyone looking for a new band to sink their teeth into.
9/10
Atlas Ruinica is set for independent release this Friday, January 13th, and you can pre-order it here. Click here for a full analysis of the lore in collaboration with the band, as well as exclusive artwork.