As much as it pains me to admit, my longtime infatuation with Sweden prog-metal gods Opeth has appeared to have come to an end with the release of Watershed (2008), which dropped this past Tuesday. It’s the first time I’ve deviated from the now-standard new-album routine from the band: every two or three years Mikael Åkerfeldt & Co. release latest opus, critics and fans shit themselves silly with the amount of accolades they heap upon it, and I dutifully follow suit with my own variation on how phenomenal and important the group is. Not this time. Ghost Reveries (2005) was the first Opeth record in ten years that required some effort for me to muster enthusiasm about, and I still have difficulty sitting through parts of it . And I don’t want to place too much blame on the elephant in the room, but I’d be remiss to mention that I was hugely disappointed when I heard of the departures of drummer Martin Lopez and longtime guitarist Peter Lindgren in 2006 and 2007, respectively – especially Lopez, who could tap on the side of a champagne glass with a dinner fork for an entire album and I’d still be on the edge of my seat. So Åkerfeldt recruited Fredrik Åkesson (ex-Arch Enemy) and drummer Martin Axenrot as their replacements (clearly, the man has a penchant for Martins and short ‘a’s), toured the shit out of Ghost Reveries, and returned to the studio to prepare the next album.

Put simply, Watershed is a mess. Not a failure by any means, but easily the most unfocused and least engaging of the band’s “observations” to date.

For starters, you know something is awry on an Opeth record when you can count the number of furious, demonic, grab-you-by-the-balls riffs on one hand. Åkerfeldt, whose riff-writing abilities were once on par with the almighty Chuck Schuldiner – seriously, listen to “The Leper Affinity” again, or the entirety of Blackwater Park (2001) for that matter – now seems to favor standard power chords, open-chord strumming, and finger-picked arpeggios. Most of what constitute “riffs” here have been slowed down to sludgy, doom metal plods that have been done to death by the band and their stoner contemporaries countless times before. Those glorious riffs, whose grooves ran miles deep, could obliterate armies of guitarists, and trump the entire catalogs of most bands, are few and far between here. When a thundering, good old-fashioned palm-muted riff does finally appear, such as the 2:30 mark in “Heir Apparent” or during “Hessian Peel” at 6:31, it’s almost as if salvation has finally arrived. Sadly, it’s short-lived, as Åkerfeldt’s attention deficit disorder gets the best of him and the track shifts gears for the umpteenth time into some idyllic acoustic interlude.

Which brings me to my next complaint, the complete disregard of “flow” and linearity within the album that was one of Opeth’s most impressive characteristics. On past outings, such as My Arms Your Hearse (1998) and Deliverance (2002), the material was rife with sudden shifts in mood and dynamics, yet the transitions made sense, gravitating naturally and organically from one to the next. Watershed practically embodies the critical adage of complexity for complexity’s sake, throttling the listener through endless channels of seizure-inducing quick edits: pointless piano miniatures, power ballad strumming, masturbatory organ solos, grinding noise, or an excuse to dust off the old Mellotron. One can’t help but admire Åkerfeldt’s increasing interest in experimenting with various sounds, exotic instruments, and recording techniques over the years, but here they come across as bitty and far too self-conscious, as if he desperately wants the listener’s head to fucking explode upon hearing sudden Ligeti-like clusters of dissonance, the inexplicable chatter of restaurant patrons, or the pegs of a guitar being detuned – wait for it – while it’s being played. Yawn. Without an appropriate context, these “shocking left turns” carry the same ingenuity as a first-year composition student emptying his bag of tricks in a hopeless attempt to wow his instructors.

Considering the aforementioned loss of half of the band in recent years, my gut instinct tells me that this detour isn’t temporary. Åkerfeldt has been inching towards this sort of bombastic theatricality since the Deliverance and Damnation (2003) siblings, and honestly, it would hardly come as a surprise if the group released a purely symphonic or even opera record five years from now. Ultimately, this is about the age-old dichotomy of artistic growth vs. a fan’s selfish desire for uniformity; Opeth could release five more variations on Still Life (1999), throw in the towel, and I’d have no qualms claiming them as the finest metal act of the past century. Watershed is still better than a good 80% of the metal releases I’ve heard so far this year, but expectations are a bitch. To open a record with a quiet, almost tender acoustic duet between Åkerfelt and guest Nathalie Lorichs comes as a shock to someone intimately familiar with every note in the band’s cycle of five (arguably six) near-perfect albums of prog-metal of the highest order. I’ll always be rooting for Åkerfeldt and will continue praising his talents at every opportunity, but damned if he isn’t making me work for it, as his output becomes exponentially harder to digest with each passing album.

“Porcelain Heart” – Opeth 8:00 (Watershed, Roadrunner 2008)