Norway’s black metal scene is not where you’d expect to find a lot of hidden gems. The output of their premier bands (Emperor, Mayhem, etc.) is standard knowledge for any fan of the genre. Even without their musical excellence, media has been all over the scene’s surrounding drama for a quarter of a century. Because of this, there weren’t many places to hide for bands associated with black metal at the time. But for this Throwback Thursday, we shine our light on a release that still got less praise than it deserved: Fleurety‘s Min Tid Skal Komme.

To properly understand the brilliance of Fleurety’s 1995 debut album, some context is needed. For instance, it is a mistake to think that black metal has always been a dogmatic and conservative genre. The Norwegian bands of the early nineties put out many highly revolutionary records, without which the term ‘black metal’ would have never held any meaning to begin with. As such, using the term ‘avant-garde metal’ to refer to such releases as Ulver’s Bergtatt, Ved Buens Ende’s Written in Waters and Arcturus’s La Masquerade Infernale is unfair. It suggests that what is now perceived as ‘traditional’ black metal (e.g. Darkthrone’s Transilvanian Hunger, Mayhem’s De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, Emperor’s In the Nightside Eclipse) wasn’t far ahead of its time. Rather, the more experimental records by the likes of Ulver and Dødheimsgard fused the genre with other influences and genres.

Enter Fleurety, whose album Min Tid Skal Komme mixes black metal with influences ranging from progressive rock to jazz. The latter of which is most noticeable in the album’s dominant, buoyant bass sound. While the improbability of this concoction might scream “gimmick,” the superb compositions and the adaptability of the musicians allow Fleurety to veritably fuse this collection of styles into a consistent whole.

Make no mistake: Min Tid Skal Komme is an album of many contrasts, with the band constantly switching tempos and alternating between minor and major keys. Even more remarkably, lead singer Svein Egil Hatlevik’s Burzum-like shrieks are put up against female vocals courtesy of pop singer Marian Aas Hansen. Despite these contradictory ingredients, the songs rarely feel illogical or disjointed, as their composers succeed in connecting these wildly different sections through smooth transitions without leaving a trace of glue. Still, at the end of each track (which often exceeds 9 minutes), you’ll be left wondering just how the hell you got there.

Min Tid Skal Komme sees Fleurety succeed where so many others failed. Without having to resort to weirdness-for-its-own-sake, a circus aesthetic, or other such dadaistic gimmicks, the album offers a unique listening experience that somehow manages to be enlightening and confusing at the same time. It is the antithesis to an album such as Myrkur’s M, which merely displays a collection of different styles without letting them interact properly. And, best of all, despite its respectable age of two decades, Min Tid Skal Komme could still blow your mind if it came out today.

– Jesse