Ulver – Flowers of Evil

genres: darkwave + 80s pop + electronica

for fans of: New Order, Fine China, Joy Electric

Building off 2017s The Assassination of Julius Caesar, Ulver return with more electronic ruminations on human depravity and spiritual warfare, refocusing their crosshairs from ancient Roman bravado to modernist corruption. Initially gaining recognition as an abrasive black metal band, Ulver continue to evolve their sound even further from their metallic roots. The majority of Flowers of Evil features sparse electronic compositions indistinguishable from 80s new wave and tamer examples of early gothic rock, that despite this simplicity maintains a connection to the band’s early work through an ever-present dark and oppressive atmosphere.

Album opener (and highlight) “One Last Dance” sets the thesis in plain sight over a minimalistic beat and recitative vocals. Quoting almost exclusively from Ecclesiastes, the natural evil of man as a destructive force that cannot be purged on earth sets the stage for the remaining seven tracks. Examples of the destruction wrought on the innocent by modern philosophies are cryptically depicted, ranging from post Cold-War crime in Eastern Europe (“Russian Doll”) to the Branch Davidian siege in Waco (“Apocalypse 1993”) to nuclear war (“Little Boy”) to Nazi cruelty (“A Thousand Cuts”). Rather than wallow in the specifics of the atrocities, most tracks borrow psalmic language and reference obscure European art house films to paint abstractions of the wickedness and subsequent longings for justice. The pulsing and upbeat “Machine Guns and Peacock Feathers” provides the fulcrum of the album, painting the struggles and fears of technologically advanced societies as direct reflections of warfare between heaven and hell.

A single respite comes in the form of penultimate track “Nostalgia”. Borrowing a more modern indie sound with heavy blues overtones in the vocals and rhythm, the track ostensibly describes memories of growing up in the band’s native Norway. While largely a happy reminiscence of more peaceful times, a connection to the remainder of the album exists through the recognition that even those days, pain in the form of creation’s “growing pains” and reflections of “stations of the Cross” hovered just beyond their perception. Though not as stunning as their previous two releases, Flowers of Evil offers another powerful and compelling entry to the Ulver’s recent catalog of darkly biblical social commentaries.

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