There’s a fine line between Black Metal and proper folk. Examples abound, but the most telling one probably is Wardruna with its founding member Kvitrafn1 (White Raven), who famously hopped to the other side from Gorgoroth together with the infamous Gaahl. The latter returned to his roots in the meantime, whereas Selvik and his sidekick, Lindy-Fay Hella, stayed in pagan land.
But I digress. Panopticon just hit our review pipe. A band steeped in blackened forgery but freely dispensing folksy tunes, too. A one-man show run by one Austin L. Lunn, excelling in a steady flow of Folk and Americana. Dime-a-dozen, all said and done, you might scream. And that’s true for most. Yet Laurentian Blue here displays a quiet strength at certain moments that not many other wannabe outdoorsmen display. A style that sits somewhere in between the thoughtful musings of Ljungblut and the cranky regurgitations of one Calvin Russel, the old defunct jailbird.2 And, to his credit, the man sports an ongoing connection with the Bavarian band Waldgeflüster. Rumor has it that he’ll appear yet again on the Bavarian’s new behemoth due to hit the airwaves later in 2025.
It’s funny how the good ol’ American Folk twang still draws us in. And that despite that unwelcome orange glow wafting over the great divide these days. The folksy Liberation Song or the Bluegrass piece Irony and Actuality exude that undercurrent of country home, mom, and apple pie. Perfectly paced and quietly delivered with some refreshing gusto. Until you reach deeper into the lyrics Lunn freely dispenses, that is. And that’s when things change. In other words, Laurentian Blue is a highly personal piece. Full of emotions that will only manifest themselves after several listens. But then, they all are personal, those records, aren’t they? Somehow, a message must be passed. And some artists are better at it, while others are less so.
And that brings us to the messaging on Laurentian Blue. The enigmatic and almost impassive delivery of the lyrics is what struck us first. Lunn‘s voice barely follows the melodies he invokes. A tendency that will worsen as the tracklist progresses. And this goes hand-in-hand with a change in the songwriting. At first, the instruments fiddle and strum away in a lively fashion together with them vocals. Something that’ll wither and die later until only the acoustic guitar forlornly soldiers on with the merciless raspy dirges on stark display.
Lunn‘s emotionless and cranky vox tells of personal woes, angst, depression, the need to be alone, and an unhealthy yearning for the afterlife, where milk and honey flow. Supposedly. And those ever-returning and often Christian-tainted themes, together with some references to the open American countryside, started to grate on this crew’s bones after a while. A lengthy string of testy laments that often seem to put messaging above musical prowess. A feat one can pull off if you have the chops of one Bob Dylan. But things get more difficult if you don’t.
You see, the RMR crew encountered a few instances where established artists grabbed the acoustic guitar to reflect on the meaning of life, and especially their own. The aforementioned Ljungblud, for instance, embarked on a variety of quietly emotive and expertly crafted reflections while sitting outside his cabin in Sauda, Norway. Or, in 2013, suddenly BAP’s Niedecken hit our radar. With an expertly written Americana piece, and his band’s style still is anything but to this day. The tales reflected on his career and the woes of growing older. But – contrary to Laurentian Blue – all of those records were expertly and often almost painstakingly crafted with a sense of melody, outstanding musicianship, and arrangement. And that even when discussing thorny subjects.
In that sense, Laurentian Blue is a record of strangely disjointed moments. At times, you’ll find isolated spots of pretty tasty Country Folk and Americana that fascinated us to an extent. The rest is sprinkled with haphazard instances of light in a sea of morose musings about loneliness, depression, and Kingdom Come borne by frugal acoustic guitars and the occasional mourning violin or other. Protest this mortal coil, the artist does. But does Panopticon protest well enough to earn a musician’s earthly due? That is the question.
Record Rating: 5/10 | Label: Nordvis Produktion | Web: Official Band Site
Release Date: 15 August 2025