There are two great truisms both in the film world and the music world: horror fans and metal fans are notoriously loyal. A fan of Diamond Head from the early 80s is 99% almost certainly still a fan of their music now, even if just in a nostalgic sense. Similarly, horror fans will most likely quote their top ten films without a moment’s hesitation – there may have been the odd new entry over the years but, chances are, it’s the same list they could have given you twenty years ago, more or less.
Homerik are one of those bands you feel you could grow up with. They’ve done their homework both musically and academically, with the sounds of metal both aged and modern flowing through their limbs, and the lore of the ancients stalking through their lyrics. There’s a comfort that they, like you, actually care about what they’re doing – they aren’t just throwing songs out there for the Hell of it, there’s time and great thought in the material they have created: it matters.
Tracks like Unforgotten Kin are stridently committed – there’s no gentle introduction, you’re flung straight into the maelstrom of what sound like angry monks fighting even angrier New Yoik noiseniks. With some tribal incantations thrown in. This is Homerik’s world, where stories are told but you are invited to actually live through them. No sooner have you begun to piece together exactly what you’ve just experienced than you’re straight into An Angel of Darkness, a symphonic gallop with a soprano and a church organ and little regard for your expectations.
As the album concludes with The Legion, there’s a surprising feeling of sadness that your journey with the band has ended. If you’re any music fan worth their salt, you’ve invested at least partially what the band have put in. Homerik’s many-tentacled arms may veer slightly towards trying too hard to cram in that little extra violin sweep and histrionic voice but the sheer effort is terrific. Bravo, sirs. And madams. And monks.