I remember a few months ago when I was sent a press release describing a one-woman Danish metal band by the name of Myrkur. Now, even without my belief that women are underrepresented in metal, that alone would’ve been enough to pique my interest. But upon hearing the track, “Nattens Barn”, I was immediately hooked not by the personnel but by the music itself.

Much like Russian Circles‘ Memorial, there was a cold beauty about the song, calling to mind an endless horizon of glaciers, majestic yet dangerous.

And that was my mindset upon entering Myrkur, my opportunity to hear the full album in one journey.

The album opens innocently enough with “Ravnens Banner”, ethereal vocals that call to mind a choir in a medieval church, light streaming through stained glass windows. It all comes crashing down in a moment as the black metal aspect of the album takes over, drums punching through the mix of hazy, raspy distorted guitars. The track ends by combining the beauty and the rage that were previously separate.

“Frosne Vind”, the next track, sounds like it is a reimagining of “Greensleeves”, creating a lovely waltz that once again showcases the glorious vocal harmonies that this album thrives off of.

These two tracks embody the spirit of the album, some tracks focusing on metal while others focus on acoustic tones.

The atmosphere and images that kept coming to mind as I listened to Myrkur were those of foggy forests, ancient stone castles, winter nights where snowflakes swirled and danced in the moonlight.

While the album is beautiful and ofttimes wondrous, it feels like it never reaches its full potential. I can hear the hunger in this music but the bite wasn’t as fierce as I wanted. A little more risk, a little more daring, and the songs would’ve been stunners, aural journeys that took one’s breath away.

Additionally, a journey is meant to have valleys and peaks, each offering something memorable and unique that stands out as a cherished memory. While Myrkur tries to offer that kind of journey, it falters in creating those stand out moments, instead creating an album where it’s easy to recall certain parts of a song but mistake it for being in a different track.

The Final Word: Myrkur is an example of how metal, in its rawest, most passionate state, can often be unbelievably beautiful. Still, it is unpolished and the songs are difficult to discern one from another. And yet, even with the flaws I mentioned, I am eagerly awaiting the next chapter in the world of Myrkur.