Botanist are literally that, botanists. I spent some time trying to figure out a better Latin term for them ie a group of plant enthusiasts, but there really is only one word for their specific field of interest. They literally have it over on me from the shot. I could end the review here, but I digress. If you're not up on your plantlore, Botanist are an extreme metal band out of San Francisco who combine themes of nature with black metal. They usually perform covered in sticks and moss, looking like the disciples of Radagast the Brown, or alternative history druids who interbreed with woodsprites to avoided being conquered by the Romans. Their cohort is comprised of core members Otrebor and Daturus, with Tony Thomas filling in on bass.
Photosynthesis is the band’s sixth (or seventh if you count
Ecosystem Version B) studio album, seeing them continue to do their thing of colliding folk music with blast beats, managing to sound both epic and understated at the same time. Of note, is that there are no guitars on this album (outside of Thomas’s bass). Instead, the black metal tremolo parts are mostly covered by an incredibly dry and boney sounding, off-key piano. Otrebor’s vocals are mostly intelligible, favoring a listless balladeer delivery, with the notable exception of “Chlorophyll” where he unleashes a more traditional black metal screech, sounding like an iguana in a glue trap. This song is not typical of the album's various strains of florally garnished and luxurious arrangements. A more representative track is "Water" which begins with an arid piano step before blossoming into a lavish outpour of spore pumping grooves that fill the air with a poisonous particulate haze that is deadly to breathe but wondrous to observe in its möbius fluctuations and ariel curls, like a band of warm snow rippling in an air current. There are darker and more menacing metal albums out there but none that embrace the corruption and perpetual parturition of the mother flesh of the earth in as complete an aspect as Botanist.
