What happens when a band that’s been around since the early ’90s finally returns after a 16-year hiatus? You get a record that feels like a love letter to its own history, but also a desperate plea to prove it still has something to say. Soulgrind’s Ad Pulchram Mortem is that paradox incarnate—a sprawling, emotionally charged album that tries to balance nostalgia with reinvention, and ends up feeling both thrilling and slightly unmoored. Let me tell you why this matters.
I’ve always found it fascinating how bands like Soulgrind manage to survive decades of industry shifts, personal tragedies, and stylistic experimentation. Lord Heikkinen and Tanya Lilith, the band’s core since 1997, have weathered the loss of Agathon ‘The Beast’ in 2022, a blow that must have felt like a missing limb. Yet here they are, resurrecting their gothic black/thrash sound with a new album that’s equal parts homage and reinvention. What makes this particularly fascinating is how they’ve managed to retain their signature edge while incorporating the melodic sensibilities that define their later work. It’s like watching a veteran actor take on a role that’s both familiar and freshly written—there’s a certain gravitas, but also a risk of overreaching.
Let’s talk about the sound. Ad Pulchram Mortem is a collision of contrasts: the raw, blackened growls of Azhemin clash against Lilith’s soaring cleans, creating a tension that’s both beautiful and jarring. I’ve heard this dynamic before, but never quite like this. Lilith’s voice isn’t just a counterpoint—it’s a lifeline, pulling the listener out of the abyss Azhemin carves with his growls. The track ‘Tears of the Earth’ is a masterclass in this duality; it’s a song that could have been a dirge, but instead becomes a hymn. What many people don’t realize is how rare this kind of emotional duality is in extreme metal. Most bands lean into one extreme or the other, but Soulgrind has mastered the art of juxtaposition.
Yet, for all its brilliance, the album stumbles under its own ambition. At 65 minutes, it’s a marathon that occasionally feels like a sprint. The 11-minute finale, ‘Into the Shadows of Devotion,’ is undeniably powerful, but it’s the kind of track that demands a different context—maybe a live performance or a film score. In its current form, it feels like the climax of a movie that hasn’t built up enough tension to justify the payoff. This raises a deeper question: when does artistic ambition become self-indulgence? The mid-album track ‘In the Circus of Tuonela’ is a case in point; it’s atmospheric but lacks the hooks to anchor it, leaving listeners adrift. It’s a reminder that even the most passionate projects need structure.
There’s a cultural thread here that’s worth unpacking. In an age where music is often consumed in 3-minute bursts, Ad Pulchram Mortem dares to be expansive. But expansion without purpose feels like a gimmick. What this really suggests is that the band is still grappling with their identity after such a long absence. They’re trying to be everything at once: a throwback to their raw beginnings, a modern gothic act, a melodic black metal force. It’s a lot to juggle, and some of the album’s weaker moments feel like the result of that struggle. I can’t help but wonder if a more ruthless editing process would have sharpened the album’s focus instead of letting it meander.
Still, I can’t ignore the magic that happens when Lilith and Azhemin lock into a groove. Their interplay is the album’s heartbeat, and it’s what keeps Ad Pulchram Mortem from being a total disaster. There’s a raw, unfiltered passion in their work that feels increasingly rare in a world obsessed with polish and perfection. If you take a step back and think about it, this album is a testament to the power of persistence. Soulgrind didn’t just survive; they returned with a record that, despite its flaws, feels like a genuine attempt to connect with their audience. That’s something I find especially interesting in an era where so many artists prioritize trends over authenticity.
In the end, Ad Pulchram Mortem is a mixed bag—a 3.0/5 that’s more heart than head. But here’s the thing: I’d rather listen to a flawed masterpiece than a perfect bore any day. Soulgrind’s journey is a reminder that music, like life, is messy. And sometimes, that messiness is what makes it unforgettable.
