Where would you expect a post-hardcore band named norse to be from? Probably Minnesota, right? Given the Scandinavian settlements of that region and the higher than normal likelihood of running into the single member of an atmospheric black metal band while picking up sheet cake from the grocery store (Fun fact: Satanists also enjoy baked goods, but don't always want to make them at home). A good second guess would have to be Oregan. Mostly because there are just so many white people out there. And by the law of averages (of white people), some of them have to believe that they're descended from Vikings, despite all physical and factual evidence to the contrary. In either case, you'd be wrong. norse is a post-hardcore band from Italy. Like your average Portlander, they might not have any direct lineage to Thor, but unlike a given Rose City dweller, they are here to slay!
nores's blu is the band's second EP and follow up to 2019's self-titled. Their brand of post-hardcore is of the volatile and emotive variety, that despite its rawness, aspires to elevate nuance through their performances. To this end they achieve an artful angularness that approaches the groove crawl of Knut, without leaving a grimy trail of primordial afterbirth in the wake of their stirring approach, as well as approximating the dexterous slew, and pin-tipped-toe tight-rope walk of These Arms Are Snakes, without that group's penchant for glaring nods to padded post-rock. That may be overstating my point a bit though. What I think I actually mean to say is that norse sound like a metallic hardcore band who all learned to play their instruments by listening to and trying to mimic Thursday (Nailed it! Points up!).
Opener "Abisso" stumbles and collapses like it is falling down an endless sprial staircase, with only unforgiving stony edges to greet the weight of its battered and broken body as it descends. Next, "Abitudine" breaks the emergency glass with its forehead as it attempts to escape a fire creeping up its legs and along its back, an inferno started in a fit of fear and fanned by years of neglect. "Colpe" feels like a direct indictment of personal failings, with its shackle tightening grooves, painfully deliberate pace, and sharp, accusing leads. The EP enters its final chapter with the heavy, water-logged cry of "Conforto" which sounds like it embodies the desperate, pleading wails of someone left in at the bottom of well overnight during a torrential downpour, as the water levels rise around their ears.
I don't speak their language, but norse still manage to make me feel what they're feeling, and if that's not enough of a reason to recommend their EP, I don't know what is.
