I'm not really a metalhead—black, death, thrash, or otherwise, although I do like my doom and drone. However, I am a sucker for a band with an odd name. So back in 2009, when music from Finland's Oranssi Pazuzu started invading my inbox, I dutifully clicked on the download button. It helped that the publicist dropped the word "psychedelic" into the hype sheet. So often, though, PR flacks who use "psychedelic" have a different idea of what that descriptor means than I do, and it can result in underwhelming listening experiences.
Blessedly (or cursedly, because this is metal we're discussing), Oranssi Pazuzu delivered the goods on the psych front. (FYI: "Oranssi" translates into "Orange" and "Pazuzu" is a wind demon found in ancient Mesopotamian mythology; it's also what possesses young Regan MacNeil in The Exorcist.)
Black metal in Oranssi Pazuzu's weathered hands is a brutally escapist proposition. Does it matter that I can't make out a word guitarist Juho "Jun-His" Vanhanen is grunting and harshly gargling? No. The sound of his voice acts as a hysteria-inducing glaze to the chthonic turmoil generated by Moit's guitar, Ontto's bass, Evil's keyboards and percussion, and Korjak's drums. Whatever demons Mr. Vanhanen may possess sound as if they're well and truly being exorcised in OP's Sturm und Drang compositions.
Over the weekend, I binge-listened to all four of Oranssi Pazuzu's LPs, and I feel as if I've gone through hell—except it was a colder and more fucked-up underworld than I expected. OP's 2009 debut album, Muukalainen puhuu, abounds with controlled thrash metal that pits baroque guitar flourishes against guttural vocals. It's also loaded with macabre, atmospheric keyboard washes, artful rhythmic shifts, and malevolent melodies. But tangents do occur. "Kangastus 1968" has passages of truly zonked wooziness. "Dub kuolleen porton muistolle" is a dub-inflected creeper with a sinuous bass line and ominous, vaporous keyboards; not a style you'd associate with a black-metal band. "Muukalainen puhuu" is a chilling ambient track that could score a Dario Argento giallo film. One YouTube commenter wrote that Muukalainen puhuu "makes me want to do 5 hits of acid then burn a church." He is likely not alone.
OP's second album, 2011's Kosmonument, reeks of heavy menace, meticulous doom, and methodical monomania. "Luhistuva aikahäkki" is a slow-growing growler positively vibrating with uneasiness while "Andromeda" is a toxic airborne horrorscape in search of an on-screen calamity to soundtrack. The chilling ambience of "Ääretön" edges into forbidding zones mapped out by Thomas Köner and Mick Harris's Lull project. Kosmonument makes you feel as if you're in a forest at night in a country you've never visited, frightened and dashing panicked through a labyrinth of vipers.
Velonielu (2013) features slightly more conventional songwriting and slightly less chaotic structures, but it's far from what your average Decibel reader would call a "sellout." Building from a positively tender guitar meditation similar to Aerosmith's intro to "Dream On," "Uraanisula" gradually morphs into one of OP's most savage tracks, a robotic monstrosity of horrifying intensity. "Reikä Maisemassa" bears synthesizer oscillations almost as sinister as anything by French sci-fi freaks Heldon and Bernard Szajner.
By 2016's Värähtelijä, OP had decided that they were going to go all in on the psychedelic tip. Yes, Vanhanen's throat's still a gravel pit, but the music is airier and inflated with a defter melodic sensibility. Don't get it twisted, though: Oranssi Pazuzu can still get heavy and apocalyptic (check "Hypnotisoitu Viharukous"). But here they've tempered that side of their sound with more of a Monster Magnet–like, hard-rock classicism. Bottom line: It's still too scary for most Halloween parties.
