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It's been five years since Opeth released their last studio record (2019's In Cauda Venenum); nearly 20 years since they last featured death metal growls and instrumentation (on 2008's Watershed); and even longer since they fully committed to the prog rock/metal tradition of crafting a narrative concept album (1999's Still Life, unless you count 2005's semi-conceptual Ghost Reveries).
Unsurprisingly, then, audiences have been eagerly anticipating the enigmatically titled The Last Will & Testament since it was announced a few months ago. After all, it promised to be a thrilling and ambitious return to form for the legendary Swedish metallers (that also served as a victorious introduction to ex-Paradise Lost drummer Waltteri Väyrynen).
Fortunately, their 14th "observation" – as mastermind Mikael Åkerfeldt puts it –is essentially everything fans wanted, with plenty of classic growls and gothic ghastliness interwoven into the welcoming ‘70s prog rock/jazz fusion Opeth have focused on since 2011's Heritage. It's not as memorable, surprising, or distinctive as many of its predecessors – which we'll get into shortly – but it's nonetheless an exceptional journey that all Opeth fans (especially older ones) should cherish.
Just like his reasoning for abandoning it in the first place, Åkerfeldt explained that the return to Opeth's trademark devilishness was necessitated by the material: "I tried some screams to see if it fit with the music, because I hadn't written music with the intention of having that type of vocal for a long time. So, I didn't know if it was gonna work, but it sounded great to me. . . . Besides, it's a concept record and it gave a voice to that main character in the story. So that felt, like, 'Okay, I'm gonna try.'"
Speaking of the LP's 1920s-based storyline, it centers around "the reading of one recently deceased man's will to an audience of his surviving family members" and includes "haunting melodrama [and] shocking revelations." In fact, it's somewhat inspired by HBO's Succession, and with help from guest vocalists Joey Tempest (Europe), Mirjam Åkerfeldt, and most importantly, Ian Anderson (Jethro Tull) – who also provides flute – The Last Will & Testament is brilliantly intriguing, adventurous, sinister, and confident.
Seeing has how Anderson is so integral to both this project and to Åkerfedlt's artistry overall, it's little wonder why the album's biggest gimmick/innovation (it's construction as a single piece broken into eight parts) harkens back to Jethro Tull's Thick as a Brick and A Passion Play. For the most part, it's an effective tactic, as it makes The Last Will & Testament feel hugely important and unified amidst allowing Opeth to try something new roughly 35 years after they got started.
In that respect, the most lingering passages of the sequence come at the beginning and the end.
For instance, lead single "§1" ("Paragraph 1") ebbs and flows around clean vocals, fiery playing, guttural outcries, and macabre accentuations. As such, it's a relentlessly infectious assault that instantly evokes 2001's Blackwater Park and 2002's Deliverance. It also segues seamlessly into the record's strongest section, "§2," an ingeniously multifaceted onslaught of evil yells, mellow respites, heavy metal riffs, and foreboding narration that conjures the psychedelic occult vibes of 2016's Sorceress.
As for closer "A Story Never Told" – which, obviously, is the only track to have a proper title – it follows in the tradition of Opeth's majestically forlorn closing ballads. Therefore, fans of prior finales such as "All Things Will Pass" and "Faith in Others" will likely love it, as it features gorgeous orchestration, somber songwriting, and angelically dejected harmonies and lead singing. Although the rest of LP ("§3" – "§7") is superb as well, it's undeniably less notable because – whether by design or not – it all kind of blends together.
Sure, there are standout moments strewn throughout, including the quirky prog-folk modulation near the middle of "§4"; the panicked unpredictability of "§6"; and the beautifully ominous finality and spoken-word solemness of "§7." Each musician gets a handful of times to shine, too, with Väyrynen earning his place via particularly dynamic and resourceful touches across "§4" and "§5."
However, when taken as a whole and compared to the relatively distinctive "§1," "§2," and "A Story Never Told," "§3" – "§7" comes across more like a 26-minute semi-memorable hodgepodge of ideas than as a collection of four individualized and impactful compositions.
To reiterate, though, the middle of the record is still excellent, and the obviously debatable takeaway that The Last Will & Testament is bested by at least half of its predecessors is a testament – no pun intended – to how incredible Opeth's catalog has been.
Virtually everything that's made the group great in the past is here, and listeners who're eager to hear the return of Åkerfeldt's one-of-a-kind growls and/or Anderson's flamboyant flutes and stern sermons will be especially pleased. As a result, and when taken on its own merits, it's clear that The Last Will & Testament is a fascinating, striving, and endlessly replayable return from the masters of Swedish progressive death metal.
Don't be surprised if it tops many "Best of 2024" lists when December rolls around, either.
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