Fleurety

Fleurety sounds like a fever dream occurring in a Norwegian pine forest. It begins with the skeletal, freezing bones of black metal but quickly begins to mutate, sprouting strange, psychedelic limbs and jazz-inflected rhythms. The guitars often favor thin, atonal harmonics over traditional power chords, creating a sense of constant, uneasy levitation. It is music that feels both ancient and futuristic, rooted in the earth but reaching for something alien.

What makes them truly distinctive is their refusal to settle. While their peers in the 90s Norwegian scene were doubling down on aggression, Fleurety was incorporating trip-hop beats, female pop vocals, and complex, dissonant arrangements. Their vocal approach is particularly jarring, ranging from bird-like, high-pitched shrieks to calm, spoken-word passages that feel like a narrator losing their grip on reality.

Start with the 1995 album Min Tid Skal Komme for a masterclass in how to expand black metal into something atmospheric and folk-tinged. If you want to hear them at their most chaotic and collaborative, jump to Department of Apocalyptic Affairs, which features a who's-who of the Norwegian underground reimagining metal as a dark, electronic jazz experiment.