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  • Roadrunner

The Norwegian metal band Kvelertak find the unlikely meeting spot between black metal blast beats and the anthemic power of Van Halen and Judas Priest.

Before Metallica basically turned metal into a speed-racing contest, older acts like Accept, Raven, and Metal Church had already embraced fast tempos while keeping one foot planted in what we once called metal but now look back on as traditional hard rock. Sonically speaking, these bands formed a kind of connective tissue between the poofy-haired stuff and the more aggressive styles that arose in part to purge the genre of its focus on backstage hedonism. If they referenced the rock'n' roll lifestyle, though, they tended to do so with a tough-guy attitude, as if partying, sex, and cars weren't the ultimate endgame but the reward for sticking to one's guns and making METAL an all-caps priority for life.

When you hear the modern-day Norwegian sextet Kvelertak ("stranglehold"), it's obvious that they're aiming for the same middle lane as their proto-thrash predecessors. But Kvelertak also embrace the let-the-good-times-roll side of metal as well. (For the record, the band describes itself first and foremost as "rock and roll.") And even though frontman Erlend Hjelvik sings entirely in Norwegian, Kvelertak's third album Nattesferd is so thoroughly crammed with fist-pumping hooks it's easy to get the impression that he's singing about heading out to the highway the whole time. He isn't, but on the first song alone the band manages to marry blast beats to the anthemic power of Van Halen, Dokken, and Judas Priest.

Nattesferd actually covers a lot more ground than Kvelertak's '80s ancestors did, but elements that might otherwise oppose one another blend into the experience seamlessly. Kvelertak's fellow revivalists (the Hellacopters, Bonded By Blood, The Sword, and pretty much any Sabbath-mimicking fuzz-rock band) can be so adamant about faithful replication that listening to them can feel suffocating. By contrast, the overwhelming feeling that comes across with Nattesferd is one of freedom to explore. "Svartmesse," for example, begins with a reverbed, single-string choka-choka-choka guitar line that's initially reminiscent of the Lick It Up-era KISS tune "Exciter" until the song veers into a quintessential New Wave Of British Heavy Metal-style verse. It's hard to imagine such a move in anyone else's hands not falling into either complete camp or embarrassing over-earnestness. In this case, it's fun without making you laugh at—or even *with—*the band.

The same is true of the production. Both Kvelertak's 2010 self-titled debut and 2013's sophomore album Meir benefited from the touch of Converge guitarist/producer Kurt Ballou, who, no surprise, captured the scratchy edges of the band's sound. This time, Kvelertak chose to produce themselves along with engineer Nick Terry (The Libertines, Turbonegro, Robyn Hitchcock). By contrast, Nattesferd hearkens back to a more vintage rock feel. Still, Terry and the band opt for a crisp, vibrant ambience rather than the boxed-in reverbs that were typical of the early '80s.

The CD booklet includes lyrics, which of course won't be of much use for non-Norwegian speakers. But the text for each song is preceded by a cryptic thumbnail summary. Listeners shouldn't expect to get a feel for what the songs are actually about with introductions like "Odin hangs himself from Yggdrasil for nine days so he can uncover the secrets of the world," "A future of despair awaits us. Resistance is futile," and "A traveler ventures into the strange black night with hopes of finding himself a new home." (The album title means "night traveler.") Alas, Google Translate won't help you determine that either, but with Nattesferd Kvelertak exploit an opportunity to create a sense of mystery. More importantly, they back it up with a group of songs that's virtually filler-free and loses little steam towards the end. Even if Kvelertak didn't mean to re-cast the Norse deity Odin as a Camaro-driving rebel burning rubber down the road, Nattesferd makes it exceedingly easy—and enjoyable—to picture him as one.

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