Band:	Officium Triste
Album:	The Death Of Gaia
Style:	Death doom metal
Release date:	December 13, 2019
A review by:	Troy Killjoy

01. The End Is Nigh
02. World In Flames
03. Shackles
04. A House In A Field In The Eye Of The Storm
05. The Guilt
06. Just Smoke And Mirrors
07. Like A Flower In The Desert
08. Losing Ground

And just like that, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced, Officium Triste mark their 25th anniversary with a return that will undoubtedly cause the immediate revision of many a best of the year/decade lists.

The jarring change in scenery in the form of this album's vibrantly colored cover art acts as a perfect precursor to what lies beneath the surface: namely its diaphanous nature and gaunt physique, buoyed by a fleshy underbelly of remorse and bittersweet acceptance. Of course, this isn't an unusual approach for these depressive Dutchmen, having carved out their niche in the doom scene with their trademark atmosphere, capable of burdening listeners with a timeless sorrow or alleviating them with thoughts of hope and positivity, seemingly at will. Typically this approach is more befitting of a band having recently matured, reaching new songwriting heights that grant the necessary insight into audiences' emotional responses, but in the case of Officium Triste, they're merely refining and honing an already impressive songcrafting skill that dates back over 15 years.

The Death Of Gaia brings with it some transfixing melodies, beautiful as they are guilt-ridden, traversing interchangeably between the highs and lows of doom's archetypal melancholia. Its use of orchestral instrumentation throughout adds a blanketing air of poignancy that weighs on the shoulders and continues to press downward until the urge to surrender and bow to its sheer force becomes overwhelming. Only then does it relent with some soft piano passages and amorous backing acoustics that slowly bleed out behind Mariska van der Krul's harrowing vocal performance, a cumulative bag of mixed messages that dance along the line separating desperation and optimism. It's all so diligently put together, you'd almost be willing to forgive them for the six year wait between albums.

Against the crashing waves of uplifting positivity stands the iconic Pim Blankenstein, whose delectable, beastly growls are enough to carry the album into the abyss solely on the back of his excellent enunciation and sharp delivery, dragging the emaciated bodies of survivors he finds holding on to threads of hope and tossing them off the edge of a cliff. His raw (yet tempered) power blends perfectly with the music, its tidal assault never quite reaching funereal depths, though exhibiting signs of its crushing potential before drawing back to ease the listener in for moments of relaxation, signifying Gaia's death. This is all further balanced, as is the album's apparent motif, by Blankenstein's scarce, but appropriately timed clean vocals -- simultaneously evocative, restrained, and controlling.

For a well-balanced, articulate, mood-setting masterclass of doom, look no further than The Death Of Gaia. It's not often the genre allows for celebration, but this quarter-century landmark is surely worth bending the rules for.