In 2001, Blackwater Park confirmed Opeth as one of the most inventive, indefinable bands in metal, and it’s still visionary 25 years later.
Opener (and closer, as a live bonus track) The Leper Affinity encapsulates much of what this album can do. A two-minute chunk in the middle of the track drifts seamlessly from a moment of dark, crystalline folk into a cinematic instrumental filled with twisting rhythms that offer tribute to their prog forefathers, before emerging into an elongated section of polished brutality.
The verses of Bleak eschew almost every death metal trope, yet still create an atmosphere more terrifying than most heavy bands ever could. The electric guitar opts for held-high notes over fast chugs, allowing for layers of shunting acoustic to fill the central space. Drummer Martin Lopez sees no need for blast beats, and instead shuffles his way around a syncopated Latin groove. Mikael Åkerfeldt’s dusky growls are really the sole connection to death metal here, and even then, Porcupine Tree frontman and prog producer Steven Wilson’s rounded, hooky voice soon takes over.
Wilson has left an indelible mark on the sound of early-2000s Opeth. He helped them emerge from the musky cocoon of their darker 90s albums with a wider and brighter sound, and such sonic clarity that you can almost see Åkerfeldt’s agile fingers skip up and down his guitar neck. Without his influence, the melodic balladry of Harvest and 2003’s non-metal album Damnation might not even exist.
Tracks like Face Of Melinda had already laid the foundations, but it was Blackwater Park that really brought melody to the forefront of Opeth’s sound. The seconds-long bursts of chaos in The Drapery Falls are about as close to a chorus as Opeth had ever been, and the mesmerising beauty of the first two minutes of Dirge For November feel like a refined evolution of the classical guitar duets scattered around their 1996 album Morningrise. The title track even makes the return of Åkerfeldt’s piercing black-metal scream catchy.
Apart from a half-silver, half-black vinyl and picture disc with some early artwork, this reissue doesn’t actually include anything new. But any excuse to re-listen to Blackwater Park is a good one. What an achievement.
