Emperor - Anthems To The Welkin At Dusk (LP) - Picture Disc Vinyl

Some black metal albums feel like a fog rolling in. Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk arrives like a full storm system, layered and electric. Released in July 1997 on Candlelight Records, Emperor’s second full‑length sharpened the band’s symphonic ambition without dulling the blade. It is the sound of a young group stepping out of legend status and into mastery, merging frostbitten riff craft with orchestral scope that still feels bold.

The lineup here is crucial. Ihsahn’s serrated vocals and grand, choral‑minded keyboards hold court, but the record’s spine is the twin‑guitar axis of Ihsahn and Samoth, with Trym’s drumming snapping everything into place and Alver’s bass adding just enough weight to keep the whole thing grounded. You can hear that chemistry from the first transition, when the brooding “Alsvartr (The Oath)” spills into “Ye Entrancemperium,” a whiplash moment that still raises hair. That opener also tips its cap to scene history, since the central motif draws on a riff written by Mayhem’s Euronymous, credited in the notes, a small but meaningful thread tying Emperor’s evolution to the movement’s roots.

There is a clarity to Anthems that sets it apart from its lauded predecessor. The guitars remain razor‑thin yet oddly lush, stacked in layers that let melodies snake in and out of the blizzard. Keyboards rise like stained glass light rather than sugary frosting. Trym’s blasts are precise, almost architectural, but he never slips into sterile repetition. “Thus Spake the Nightspirit” rides that balance beautifully, its regal theme pushed by hi‑hat definition and a tremolo line that feels both heroic and unhinged. “Ensorcelled by Khaos” dives into turbulence, while “The Acclamation of Bonds” proves how far Emperor had come in arrangement sense, stitching themes together so gracefully you barely notice the seams.

The album’s most visible moment remains “The Loss and Curse of Reverence,” which arrived with a stark, winter‑shot music video that felt almost transgressive for the genre at the time. It helped pull Anthems into wider view, and the song earns that spotlight. Those choral stabs, the sudden rhythmic pivots, the way the chorus climbs with venom and pride, it is quintessential Emperor. Then there is “With Strength I Burn,” the epic set piece where Ihsahn brings in clean vocals with a conviction that carries genuine pathos. No coy genre hedging, just a fearless widening of the palette that many bands would chase for years.

Anthems also closes in a way that shows confidence. “The Wanderer,” an instrumental coda, trades blastbeats for windswept atmosphere, a quiet torch held up to the night after all that tumult. It is a small gesture that makes the record feel complete rather than merely concluded.

History has been kind to this album, and for good reason. It is routinely held up as a cornerstone of symphonic black metal, yet it sidesteps the bombast that dragged so many imitators into kitsch. The record’s influence is obvious, but influence is not why people still pull it from shelves. It is the songwriting, the intent, the way Emperor captured something grand without sanding off the danger. When people talk about essential Emperor vinyl, this is one of the spines you expect to see.

If you are hunting for Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk vinyl, know that it tends to move quickly whenever a new pressing hits. I have seen copies vanish in minutes at my local shop, the kind of Melbourne record store where black metal lifers and curious weekend diggers mingle in the same aisle. Those browsing vinyl records Australia listings or trying to buy Emperor records online will find the usual spread of reissues and color variants, but do not get too precious. This is a record meant to be played, loud and often. Emperor albums on vinyl reward volume, and Anthems in particular blooms when the room shakes a little.

More than a period piece from a fevered era, Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk is a living document of a band surging forward while saluting the past, a rare case where audacity and control coexist. Put it on, let “Alsvartr” build, and feel the sky crack open when “Ye Entrancemperium” hits. Some records you admire from a respectful distance. This one still drags you into the weather.