For the most part, I’ve been on a rather fortuitous kick with my black metal pulls. I’ve long appreciated the genre for its relatively underappreciated ability to fuse emotion into raw violence; an approach that death tends to reject wholesale in favor of severing flesh from bone, unless you go seeking out the deliberate exceptions. Third release from Swedish duo Blodtår, Monark caught my eye with an assertion that it was “conceived in the aftermath of a personal tragedy.” While bands like Dissection and Sacramentum were arguable forerunners paving the way for unapologetically melodic black offerings, finding more straightforward projects built under the auspices of immediate suffering ¹ is a rarer matter. So, don your most royal robe and let us see what tales of woe this Monark has in store for us.

Blodtår lay their roots in some thick production, sporting a delicious DR which allows for full, spacious chords to ring out with feeling and conviction. “Paradis” starts with a haunting strum which couples itself with a thunderous progression rife with both triumph and endurance, reaching to the mood of folk metal without sacrificing any of its blackened purity. The drums of Hebert Cerna are deeply articulated, with toms and snares in particular ringing out with crystalline reverb and might that never bury the guitars. Band founder and “plays everything else” member Carl (yes, just Carl) offers up one moody assembly after another, alternating from Nail by Nail style lead-and-chord interplay (“Monark”) to Hellenic-tinged progressions (“Den eviga isen”) rooted in deep feeling over raw atmospheres of evil and gloom. Far from being a homogeneous assault of blackened speed, Monark offers up march-in-place tempos (“Det slutar i lågor”) and bass-centric unplugged flourishes (“Bland kvällens skuggor ännu vandra”) as much as expected attacks.

Throughout the course of Monark, the name of the game is pathos. Blodtår live up to their mission statement, with an album that clings tightly to catharsis and expression over diabolisms and odes to the abyss. It helps that the band has a decent use of textures, with cleans and synths making their presence known in (usually) tasteful doses. The aforementioned “Bland kvällens …” closes out on two minutes of almost depressive dirges without losing an ounce of its BPM as Carl ties baritone cleans underneath his impassioned bellows, Hebert blasting away underneath to carry the melancholic tones into powerful display. Special credit must go to Carl’s vocals, as he manages to emote well beyond stereotypical screeches without losing a drop of bite or edge, unafraid to drop into lower registers as much as requisite highs, at times touching on Gris levels of emotional inflection without resorting to that act’s knack for coughing up a lung into the microphone mid-recording. The spirit of a genuinely personal, heartfelt work—as opposed to an arbitrarily constructed “artistic statement”—is felt throughout the whole of Monark.

Of course, with such personal works, it can feel more cohesive than it actually sounds, and unsurprisingly Monark suffers from some unevenness of quality. “Det slutar i lågor” takes a B-side Departure Chandelier riff with less interesting synth work and makes it the undeserving centerpiece of the song, while the back third sees Blodtår offering up a rather out-of-place-sounding cover of Kraja’s “Nu är det synd om de döda”. It’s not bad, unto itself, but sounds like it would fit in more on a Morke album with its shimmering tones and regal atmosphere. A number of cuts rely a great deal on atmospheric picking between riffs, resulting in a sense of sapped momentum, though the aforementioned pathos is never abandoned; “Den eviga isen” doesn’t allow for such slowdowns to dampen the impact of its final drop near the end, flinging mournful cleans into a thunderclap of an outro, the sound of a band spent and leaving it all in the studio. These quirks do have the side effect of helping Monark feel as personal to the listener as it was to the band, as it’s clear this record is less interested in being a flawlessly executed listen and more an introspective presentation where we, the audience, are merely invited to bear witness.

I’ve truly enjoyed my time with Monark. Its imperfections manage to have a paradoxical ability to add to its charms, of which there are many, and the sheer degree of wistful beauty and melancholic anguish cannot be denied. With tones that add to the artwork’s theme and a commitment to sheer passion over extoling the ways of EEEEVILLLLLL, Blodtår have offered up a refreshing and, spiritually speaking, relatively rare release in the realm of melodic black metal. I have no idea what tragedy brought this album into being, but it doesn’t matter; I can only hope that the band found the comfort they needed in the creation of this work. If you’ve been going through it lately, I invite you to come partake in the work of Monark and see if there’s any comfort waiting for you beyond the palace doors.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 18th, 2026

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