Style: Progressive Metal, Djent, Ambient (Mixed Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: TesseracT, The Contortionist, Monuments, Textures
Country: France
Release date: 31 October 2011

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I talk relatively often (all the time) about how the late 2000s and early 2010s were a golden age for djent and progressive metalcore. So many of today’s household names were cutting their teeth around the time (Periphery, TesseracT, The Contortionist to name just a few), enjoying a scene in which listeners were actively seeking out underground releases, bedroom artists, and the next evolution of ‘Sumerian-core’.¹ Yet, for every six-to-seven-digit monthly Spotify listener group birthed from the scene, at least twice as many faded into obscurity—though not necessarily for lack of quality.

France’s Uneven Structure are a particularly interesting example of a forgotten djem: their debut double-LP Februus enjoyed critical acclaim in the djent scene during its release in 2011. I certainly held it among my all-time favorites for a good while (ok, fine, I still do). Hell, I even remember the broader ‘gatekeeping metal purist’ of the time labelling the album as the “one example of djent that doesn’t suck”. Uneven Structure seemed fast-tracked to blow up as the next TesseracT, contributing to and further solidifying the ‘atmo-djent’ microscene. And, for a while, Februus lived up to such expectations, remaining at the forefront of djent and progressive metal conversation for a good year or two.

So… what the hell happened to our Frenchmen?

Honestly? No fuckin’ clue! Februus, in my opinion, remains a crowning djewel of the djenre (even if it contributed to all the annoying djent spelling djokes). Sure, subsequent Uneven Structure releases didn’t quite live up to Februus, but they weren’t bad, and it’s not like the band fell off the face of the earth or anything. Some bands just never take off for whatever reason, and that’s what we’re here for! 

If I were forced at gunpoint to describe Februus with a single word, I would probably fear-cry a little and then say something stupid like ‘really cool’. Thankfully, I’m just sitting at my computer, so instead I’ll choose ‘dialectical’. On the one hand, Februus is spacey, gaze-y, and enveloping; on the other, it’s physical, gritty, and manically detailed. While most bands would keep such attributes an arms length from each other, Uneven Structure brings the hands together, interlocks the fingers, and assumes prayer position, fully completing the union between metal’s antagonism and ambient’s… ambience. Every aspect of Februus embodies this dialectical relationship, from the production to the performances, the composition to the arrangement, culminating in a massive, eight-minute long emotional climax the likes of which have scarcely been replicated within the genre. 

I’m getting ahead of myself though, let’s start at the beginning.

The opening seconds of “Awaken” bloom with reverb soaked guitar and synth pads, introducing a motif which outlines the general chordal structure of the song before exploding into monolithic stabs of heavy, distorted guitar and bass which intertwine with the soundscaping. Other than the initial ‘hit’ of each note, it’s hard to tell where any one instrument begins or ends; within the first minute of Februus, the listener is fully immersed in Uneven Structure’s uncanny ability to meld instrumental textures and techniques into viscous atmosphere. Shortly after the first minute, another explosion of sound introduces the full band with a driving, heavily syncopated djent riff, conceptually reflecting the melodic motif of the opening with a rhythmic motif which the rest of the song is similarly built around. Listen carefully, and one can practically hear the opening melody in the background of the entire song, even if it’s not actually being played. Such in-depth and well thought out structures are the bread and butter of Uneven Structure’s compositional style. “Awaken” does a great job of conceptually introducing this ethos, and while it stands on its own as a self-contained song much more than any other track on the album, it still slots into an overarching structure. 

Taking a step back, Februus can be divided into three distinct yet deeply related sections, each exploring Uneven Structure’s dialectical songwriting approach from different angles. The first grouping of songs—consisting of “Awaken”, “Frost”, and “Hail”—focuses on violent rhythms and severe tones, contrasted by constant subtle background ambience and smartly placed dynamics. Cleverly, the grouping’s middle track, “Frost”, stands out in stark contrast to its surroundings, boasting a particularly chilled out atmosphere, with a nearly plaintive sounding palm-muted riff juxtaposed by patient background countermelodies and vocalizations. The second grouping—”Buds”, “Awe”, and “Quittance”—comes from the opposite direction, focusing on slow-burn song structures accentuated by thick soundscaping, saving the sonic violence specifically for well-earned climaxes. Again, the middle track stands in opposition to its surroundings: after ten minutes of gradual building tension from interlude piece “Exmersion” and “Buds”, “Awe” jukes the listener out with a subdued palm-muted strumming pattern which quickly bursts open, drops an octave, and rages through the single heaviest and chaotic moment of the album, fully living up to the track’s namesake.² Finally, “Plentitude” and “Finale” act as a sort of victory lap, fully fusing visceral rhythm with patient pacing—essentially a fifteen-minute build and release—and a perfect send off for the first disk of Februus.

So, one can see that Februus is obviously intentional in the way it presents itself on a macro level. In general, the listener can expect sections of long melodic phrasing which contrast and compliment heavy rhythmic syncopation, the climax of both happening simultaneously, each elevating the other. More often than not, background motifs are played on an ambient-style guitar, lasting (or being implied to last) the entire length of tracks, mooring the entire experience against a veritable tidal wave of syncopation and longform structuring (“Quittance” is perhaps the clearest example of this). Where things get particularly impressive, though, is on the micro level. Februus is deep, full of detail, each song a puzzle of its own while still contributing to the album as a whole. Continuing down the dialectical path, the most complicated and rhythmically involved moment of the album also happens to be one of its most restrained. “Frost” is already dense with layering and overlapping textures and voices; listening to the detail of each, though—particularly in how they interact—reveals leagues of hidden depth. 

After a ten-second introduction, vocalist Matthieu Romarin whispers ‘frost’, kicking off multiple interlocking rhythmic patterns of which the inner workings are a bit of a mystery. The entire section lasts for fourty-four measures, and the band as a whole seem to fully sync up on the nineteenth measure of 4/4—with a fake-out resolution at the fourteenth bar—and again on the thirty-second measure—with another fakeout resolution on the twenty-seventh bar. Individually, the background guitar plays a tremolo-picked motif which patiently and consistently unfolds over repeated nine-bar phrases of 4/4—besides the final repetition which is only eight bars long—subtly anchoring the listener amongst conflicting rhythmic information; the rhythm guitar pattern can be broken up into three large sections of 4/4, consisting of an eighteen measure phrase with its own fakeout resolution on the fourteenth measure, and two thirteen measure phrases each with fakeout resolutions on the ninth measure; the drums follow a 3/4 pulse on the bell—though this pattern is sometimes displaced a sixteenth note after certain accents—obfuscating the original 4/4 beat while still accentuating unison hits with snare and crash cymbal, and switching the 3/4 bell pulse for a 4/4 eighth-note pulse on the hi-hat after the second rhythm guitar section. Additionally, subtle ornamentation guides the listener through the transition of each rhythm guitar section, the first ending with arpeggiated “ooohs” and “aaahs” from Romarin which morph into whispers which denote the beginning of the second section, and the beginning of the third section utilizing the switch to closed hi-hat, which opens at the sections fakeout resolution. Each instrument—and even individual aspects of each instrument’s performance—invites deep analysis which leads to shifting revelations not only of that instrument’s performance, but of its relationship to each other instrument, and to the section as a whole. To put things into perspective, the entirety of this paragraph analyzes just over one minute of Februus’ ninety-one minute runtime.

“Frost” is also a clear example of another standout trait of Februus: word painting. Uneven Structure’s approach to lyricism is worthy of the attention of even the most staunch lyric ignorer, as it directly and tangibly interacts with the music itself. The instant Romarin whispers ‘Frost’, the entire band cuts the dynamics back, adopting a glassy, icy tone, directly reflecting the lyrics in that moment. One can imagine colors reflecting off of a sheet of ice or the shimmering of freshly laid snowfall in the interaction between rhythm and background guitars. “Hail” leaves no guesswork behind the intent of the percussive, bending riff which kicks the song off, introduced by Romarin’s apt opening scream of ‘Hail’, especially following the previous track’s soft whispering of ‘Frost’. The immediately following line, ‘Walls of rain washes out the innocence / The magnificent flood carves the letters down the flesh’, lines up the word ‘flesh’ with a sudden stabbing of staccato guitar work in an attempt to unify the musicality and physicality of the literal action of carving into flesh. Even the first lyric of the album embodies the word painting theme: ‘A dense, dull quiver can be felt from far away’, a line which not only telegraphs upcoming anxieties and intensities but aptly describes the feeling given off by the album’s opening minute of instrumental atmosphere. My favorite moment of word painting, though, comes from a late-album climax. Around three quarters of the way through “Plentitude”, Romarin sings ‘Last breath before air turns into light’. A slight pause between the words ‘into’ and ‘light’ quite literally allows the listener to catch a final breath—even in rhythm with the song—before being bombarded by massive vocal harmonies accompanying the word ‘light’. Add pummeling double kick drums and intensely maximalist production, and any remaining semblance of subtlety in this moment is viciously seared away, leaving no corner of sound unilluminated.³

Speaking of breaths, let’s take a moment to catch ours…

Did you take a breath? Ok, do you by chance remember when, towards the beginning of this review, I called Februus a double-LP? That’s right! Every single line of analysis and description thus far has been in reference to disc one. And I’m not even done yet! Ahem…

While every member of Uneven Structure is immensely talented and lends a unique voice to Februus, I want to focus a bit more on two in particular. We’ll start with Romarin, who’s already been established as quite the lyricist, but I’d be remiss not to talk about his actual performance. Romarin splits his vocal duties about equally between clean and harsh singing styles, and excels at both. In softer moments, Romarin adopts a clean, delicate timbre, constricting or releasing airflow to affect his intonation and dynamics (“Buds”); when the music becomes more intense, he often belts out in a robust head voice, satisfyingly filling out his tone (“Plentitude”); and he’s certainly not afraid to lean into his mid-ranged screams and growls, spitting static when appropriate (“Awe”). While listening to Romarin, one will surely notice distinctive pronunciation and inflections due to his pronounced French accent. Such quirks are doubly noticeable when paired with his dense yet vague lyrics, resulting in a wholly unique phoneticism which adds an odd, exotic character to his performance and lyrics—a character which seeps through the cracks into every other aspect of Februus.

The second performance I’d like to spotlight comes from drummer Christian Schreil. Further up the page, Schreil proved his aptitude for polyrhythmic mastery and limb independence with his meticulous performance on “Frost”. Here, I’d like to draw attention to his equally detailed arrangements and kit orchestration. My earlier analysis of Schreil’s performance on “Frost”—specifically how he lined up the switch between bell, closed hi-hat, and open hi-hat with the sections resolutions—hinted towards his ability to implement subtle details which add layers to each song, a strength which is most readily apparent on “Buds”. Accompanied only by sparse, droning synths, Schreil introduces the track with a performance which adopts the roles of both rhythm and melody. A precisely tuned snare rimshot leads into jogging closed hi-hat eighth notes which open up for specific accents; other cymbals—china, crash, and bell—add melodic ornamentation and interstitial texturing; consistently strong snare hits anchor both rhythm and melody; and the lower end—toms and kick drum—drive momentum and reinforce the groove’s foundation. As “Buds” continues, the entire track gradually blooms around Schreil’s fundamental drum groove, which itself morphs and evolves in response to each other band member’s performance. Schreil’s performance behind the kit is unfailingly, manically detailed throughout Februus, constantly adding layers for the listener to dig their teeth into.

Alright, well… I suppose we can talk about disc two now.

Ok ok ok, I hear you. This review is already long enough. Fortunately for you, Februus’ second disk is purely ambient, essentially a thirty-five minute come-down, and an opportunity for reflection on the first disk. Unfortunately for you, the second disk is relatively difficult to listen to, as it’s not included on streaming platforms, though you can find it on YouTube. Fortunately for me, I own a physical copy of this record: synths and ambient guitar meander and swell in similar manner to much of the background on the first disk; Romarin even joins in with some tasteful ‘oooh’-ing and ‘aaah’-ing from time to time. Really, disk two extends a moment of reflection over thirty-five minutes, suspending the listener in the emotions brought on by the first disk, giving them time to fully sink in. 

As I sit here letting disk two play out, I’m struck by Februus’ sheer scope and attention to detail, its overt intentionality in structure and pacing, and its commitment to such a unique dialectical composition style, even right up to the very end. Uneven Structure have created a near infinitely replayable album experience, one I’ve been spending quality time with for fifteen years now. Februus is a shining example of a hidden gem, one of many in its scene which has been unjustly overshadowed in the annals of prog history. Few albums I’ve heard achieve such an intimate level of care and detail, though in reality, few need to. After all, even fifteen years later, Februus is more than enough.

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Recommended tracks: Frost, Buds, Awe, Quittance
You may also like: Fellsilent, Disperse, Means End, Corelia

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Basick Records

Uneven Structure is:
– Aure “WorC” Pereira (guitars)
– Jérôme Colombelli (guitars)
– Igor Omodei (guitars)
– Benoît Friedrich (bass)
– Christian Schreil (drums)
– Matthieu Romarin (vocals)

1. As in, the specific sound which bands signed to Sumerian Records had cultivated at the time. Think early Born of Osiris, After the Burial, and Veil of Maya. ↩︎
2. The middle track of each section mirrors the other even on a micro level, with both utilizing rhythmic, palm-muted strumming patterns in different ways to achieve contrasting versions of a climax. ↩︎
3. These and other moments of word painting also play into the dialectical theme of the album, providing additional context for interpretation. ↩︎