In his wonderful history of pop (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah), Bob Stanley theorised that metal and country were the only two genres to have had an elongated shelf life. Every other musical movement that there has been, he suggests, exists purely to be overtaken by what comes after it. He states that country and metal have survived because, rather than be overtaken by the next big thing lumbering up at their side, they have taken the young upstart genre and absorbed them.

Metal is just a great big thief, or to be precise a vulture. It has unashamedly picked the best bits off the carcasses of other less fortunate genres for most of its 50-odd years of existence. All of its great leaps forward have happened because it has assimilated the traits of another style of music (Glam metal – Glam, Thrash – Punk, Nu-Metal – Hip Hop, and so it goes). 

Saor are purveyors of folk metal but in a very cerebral, dark, and insular way. “Origins” is a brooding and atmospheric record, that manages to effectively combine metal and rootsy folks’ respective finest qualities. It feels earthy and grounded. It creeps through the undergrowth as opposed to simply jumping out at you and slapping you around the face with its riffs. 

Its sound is tribal and organic like it has been shaped from the earth beneath our feet. It has an otherworldly and distinctly spiritual quality, and on numerous occasions, it diligently hides in the shadows patiently building its momentum. 

Bleak but simultaneously beautiful, it is a highly intelligent album that swirls with portent and emotional imagery. This is folk at its rawest and most primal and as such it elegantly matches the creeping metal.