In a metal scene where purists often chain bands to their past, Finland’s …And Oceans have spent thirty years gleefully snapping those restraints. Their seventh album, “The Regeneration Itinerary,” might be their most wildly ambitious yet – a sprawling love letter to their own history that somehow manages to sound fresh rather than nostalgic.
From the first moments of “Inertiae,” you know you’re not getting a conventional black metal record. What begins in cosmic shimmer erupts into Dimmu Borgir-like thunder before suddenly dropping you into what feels like a late-90s warehouse rave. It’s jarring, bizarre, and occasionally brilliant, like being yanked between parallel universes without warning.
I’ve spent a while with this album and still find myself caught off guard by its sudden stylistic whiplash. Take “The Form and the Formless,” which barrels along with tremolo-picked fury until, without warning, it morphs into something that sounds like a forgotten Sega Genesis soundtrack. These transitions don’t always work; sometimes they feel like someone accidentally spliced together two different recording sessions, but there’s something weirdly admirable about a band that is unconcerned with listener comfort.
The album reaches its zenith with “Prophetical Mercury Implement,” a genuine contender for song of the year within extreme metal circles. Its swirling guitars and dramatic synths echo the grandeur of their 1998 breakthrough, “The Dynamic Gallery of Thoughts,” while pushing into new territory. Similarly, “Terminal Filter” creates a stunning contrast between icy orchestration and scorching guitar work that showcases the band at their most emotionally affecting.
Vocalist Mathias Lillmåns deserves special praise here. Throughout the record, he shifts between tortured screams, manic shrieks, and cavernous growls with unsettling ease. His performance is almost theatrical; you can practically see the veins bulging in his neck during the more intense passages. Around him, Antti Simonen weaves complex orchestrations that give the music its cinematic quality, shifting from operatic grandeur to mechanical coldness as each song demands.
Drummer Kauko Kuusisalo might be the album’s secret weapon. Rather than relying solely on the blast beats that define much of extreme metal, he’s evolved into something more intriguing: a percussionist who knows when restraint serves the music better than pure speed. His work on “Förnyelse i Tre Akter” moves from typhoon-like intensity to almost jazzy complexity without missing a beat.
Not everything lands. “The Ways of Sulphur” feels like the band trying too hard to recapture their industrial period, while “I am Coin, I am Two” builds promisingly before fizzling out with an ending so abrupt you might check if your streaming service glitched. These moments of inconsistency keep the album from reaching the transcendent heights it occasionally hints at.
There’s something deeply physical about …And Oceans’ music that transcends intellectual appreciation. Listening to “The Regeneration Itinerary” with headphones can feel almost synesthetic; certain passages on “The Terminal Filter” create a floating sensation that’s nearly physical, while the brutality of “Chromium Lungs, Bronze Optics” hits with gut-punch force.
The album sounds fantastic, too, which isn’t always a given with extreme metal. Unlike the deliberately lo-fi production that plagues much of black metal, every instrument here has room to breathe. You can pick out the intricacies in Simonen’s synth work just as clearly as the guitar interplay between Tio Kontio and Teemu Saari. It’s dense without becoming muddy, no small feat given how many sonic elements compete for attention.
For longtime fans, listening to “The Regeneration Itinerary” feels like flipping through a musical photo album. Elements from every era make appearances: the symphonic grandeur of their early works, the cold mechanical pulse of “A.M.G.O.D.” and “Cypher,” the more focused aggression of their recent output. Rather than sounding like a greatest hits rehash, though, it feels like a band making peace with their past while refusing to be defined by it.
What sticks with me most about this album is its sheer audacity. In an age where streaming algorithms reward safety and predictability, there’s something almost punk about a band this determined to follow their own bizarre muse, commercial appeal be damned. …And Oceans build songs like fever dreams: disorienting, sometimes nonsensical, but vividly unforgettable.
I’ve played “The Regeneration Itinerary” for several metal-loving friends, and reactions range from bewildered head-scratching to near-religious conversion. That’s probably exactly how …And Oceans want it. This isn’t music designed for casual background listening or algorithm-friendly playlists. It demands your full attention, rewarding the patient listener with moments of genuine transcendence amid its controlled chaos. Thirty years in, …And Oceans remain gloriously, stubbornly weird, and extreme metal is far better for their continued existence.
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