Tiamat - Amanethes (2LP) - Transparent Red Vinyl

Tiamat have always felt like the most restless spirits in the gothic metal world, drifting from early death metal roots to dreamy, lysergic rock and then into sleek, shadowy pop. Amanethes, released in 2008 on Nuclear Blast after a five year gap since Prey, lands as a late‑career statement that pulls those threads together in a way that still feels vivid. It is heavy again, even gnarly in places, but it never gives up the band’s taste for melody, smoke and strange perfume.

The first thing you notice is how present Johan Edlund sounds. He leans into a deeper, rougher register at times, a move that longtime fans welcomed because it nods to the Clouds and Wildhoney era without playing the nostalgia card. When the growls creep in, they arrive as texture and emphasis rather than a gimmick. The guitars have bite, drums sit thick in the middle, and there is that familiar Tiamat habit of letting a hymnlike keyboard line pry open a song just when you think it is going to stay pugilistic. Critics at the time picked up on that balancing act, often noting how Amanethes restores some metal muscle while keeping the band’s elegant, nocturnal atmosphere intact.

There are moments here that hit with proper force. Raining Dead Angels comes on like a stormfront, all churn and glare, and it sets the table for an album that refuses to choose between swagger and incense. Until the Hellhounds Sleep Again, which got an official video, is one of those late‑night singalongs Tiamat do so well. It has a stride to it, the kind of mid‑tempo pulse you can feel in the chest, and a chorus that blooms without losing the grit in Edlund’s voice. The Temple of the Crescent Moon coils around a minor‑key figure that could pass for a desert chant, which suits this band’s habit of flirting with Middle Eastern hues. None of this feels pasted on. Tiamat had been weaving these colours in for years, and here the palette looks especially well chosen.

Part of the album’s charm is how often it steps sideways. A song will settle into a riff, then give way to a little organ flourish or a bass line that steps out of the pocket for a bar, as if to remind you that Anders Iwers is far more than a timekeeper. Lars Sköld’s drumming keeps things grounded, unflashy but commanding, and the twin‑guitar work with Thomas Wyreson brings a classic rock sensibility to the harmonies. You get the sense of a band that knows its tools and picks them up with care. Even the ballads feel written rather than assembled, something many groups chasing atmosphere never quite manage.

Amanethes also benefits from being a proper album. Sequencing matters here. The heaviest cuts are spaced so the record can breathe, and the moodier pieces arrive like interludes that deepen the scene rather than stall it. That flow encourages full spins, which might be why the album has matured well on vinyl. If you find a clean Amanethes vinyl pressing, especially the double LP editions, the low end opens up and those keyboard swells take on a nice halo. It is the sort of record you throw on late and let ride, a reminder of why people still hunt for Tiamat vinyl and why Tiamat albums on vinyl continue to win new listeners in the racks.

Reception at the time was quietly strong. Outlets like AllMusic praised the way the band folded harsher vocals back into the mix without losing the noir romance that had defined their post‑Wildhoney work. Fans were vocal about the return to heft too, but the key thing is that it never feels like a concession. Edlund has always written like a wanderer, and Amanethes reads as travelogue rather than course correction.

If you are crate‑digging in a Melbourne record store and see Amanethes tucked between Scandinavian stalwarts, it is worth the punt. You could just as easily buy Tiamat records online, of course, and there is no shortage of vinyl records Australia stockists who can sort you out. But this album rewards a bit of ceremony. Drop the needle, turn the lights down a notch, and let it unfurl. Fifteen years on, it still sounds like a band with range and conviction, comfortable in their shadows but never content to sit still.