The Slow Death of Engagement: Rigor Sardonicous and the Art of Monotony
There’s something almost hypnotic about funeral doom metal—its glacial pace, its oppressive atmosphere, its ability to stretch time like taffy. But when does that hypnotic quality become a liability? When does the genre’s signature slowness devolve into outright monotony? These are the questions that Rigor Sardonicous’s Diatriba Deorum forces me to grapple with. Personally, I think this album is a masterclass in how not to engage an audience, even one already accustomed to the genre’s idiosyncrasies.
The Promise and Pitfall of Slowness
Let’s start with the obvious: Rigor Sardonicous is not here to win over the masses. Their lo-fi, quasi-industrial take on funeral doom is an acquired taste, to say the least. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the band seems to double down on their most polarizing traits. Take the opener, ‘With God’s Love.’ It’s a strong start, with a pseudo-industrial hum that feels ominous and eerie. But here’s the thing: it’s only two minutes long. Why? Because, in my opinion, any longer and the track would collapse under its own weight. This raises a deeper question: if a song can’t sustain itself beyond two minutes, what does that say about the band’s ability to craft compelling music?
The Sabbathian Illusion
‘Death Cult’ is where things get interesting—or at least, where they try to get interesting. The Sabbathian lead riff is undeniably hypnotic, but it’s also a crutch. What many people don’t realize is that Black Sabbath’s influence in doom metal is often a double-edged sword. It can lend a track gravitas, but it can also make it feel derivative. Rigor Sardonicous falls squarely into the latter category. The riff winds endlessly, the drums plod lifelessly, and Joseph J. Fogarazzo’s vocals feel buried under layers of lo-fi mud. It’s not bad, per se, but it’s not memorable either. And in a genre that thrives on atmosphere, forgettable is the kiss of death.
The Problem with Plodding
Now, let’s talk about ‘I Am.’ Clocking in at over eight minutes, this track is a test of endurance. One thing that immediately stands out is how little happens. There are no tempo shifts, no dynamic changes, no moments of release. It’s like being trapped in a slow-motion nightmare, and not in a good way. If you take a step back and think about it, this is where Rigor Sardonicous’s approach falls apart. Funeral doom is supposed to be immersive, but immersion requires contrast. Without it, you’re left with a void—a void that ‘I Am’ embodies all too well.
Bright Spots in a Sea of Grey
It’s not all doom and gloom (pun intended). ‘Commandment’ and ‘Actus Tragicus’ manage to rise above the drudgery. The former has a Warning-esque quality to its riffs, while the latter offers a hint of melody that keeps things mildly interesting. But here’s the rub: these tracks are exceptions, not the rule. What this really suggests is that Rigor Sardonicous can craft engaging music when they put their minds to it. So why don’t they do it more often?
The Production Paradox
A detail that I find especially interesting is the production. It’s raw, unprofessional, and soupy—but somehow, it works. The cold, industrialized aura it creates is a perfect match for the band’s aesthetic. The problem? It can’t save the music. The guitars lack force, the vocals feel distant, and the bass is all but absent. It’s like the band is hiding behind the production, afraid to let their music stand on its own.
The Bigger Picture
If you take a step back and think about it, Rigor Sardonicous’s obscurity makes sense. They’re not just underground—they’re buried. And while Diatriba Deorum is an improvement over Praeparet Bellum, it’s not enough. The album feels like one long, repetitive death march, and by the end, even the band seems tired. But here’s the twist: I’ve found myself using it as background music while working. It’s almost meditative, in a strange way. Go figure.
Final Thoughts
In my opinion, Rigor Sardonicous is a band with potential—potential they consistently fail to realize. Diatriba Deorum is a missed opportunity, a collection of tracks that could have been so much more. What this really suggests is that sometimes, slowness isn’t profound—it’s just slow. And in a genre that demands engagement, that’s a fatal flaw.
Rating: 2.0/5.0
