The Five Best Songs of Opeth’s No-Growl Era

This might be Opeth’s most devastatingly beautiful compositions to date (which is saying something considering the tasteful heartache of “Patterns in the Ivy II” and the entirety of 2003’s Damnation). It fades out of the sinisterly orchestral “Voice of Treason” with bittersweet strings, downtrodden percussion, blossoming woodwinds and forlorn sentiments (“The grave of our youth is up ahead / And life has become a burden / We move in circles of suppressed despair / Waiting for the sun”).

Then, lone piano chords surround Åkerfeldt’s falsetto dirges before the arrangement alternates between robust symphonic sorrow and jazzily modest misery (complete with tricky acoustic guitarwork). Therefore, it’s among their most dynamic tunes, too, with near-silent agony juxtaposing suffocatingly dense instrumentation and harmonies.

In total, “Faith in Others” is an utterly divine way to wrap-up a nearly perfect record.

Another sublime finale comes from "All Things Will Pass" – or “"Allting tar slut" if you’re going by the intended Swedish-language version – which serves as In Cauda Venenum’s lusciously somber and gothic farewell. Former drummer Martin Axenrot’s tempered syncopation is momentarily overtaken by shadowy piano and guitar notes; before long, though, he and the rest of the band return for some intensely foreboding jamming.

Eventually, acoustic arpeggios decorate Åkerfeldt’s high-pitched warnings (“Rose of Summer, withered times / Shadows fall on contouring lines”), paving the way for Sabbath-esque outbursts during the chorus. These two temperaments wrestle fluidly before culminating in an epically emotional closing movement, during which Åkerfeldt’s screams, “If everything ends / Is it worth to turn back home again?” with startling power.

Like all great album climaxes, “All Things Will Pass” leaves you changed by the weight of what you’ve just experienced.

Åkerfeldt has always been open about his love for genre pioneers such as Camel, Genesis and in this case, Jethro Tull. So, it’s not shocking that this highlight from Sorceress draws directly from “Dun Ringill” (from 1979’s Stormwatch), with the frontman telling Metal Hammer: “I wanted to do a song with my capo really high, so it’s up on the fifth fret. It makes the guitar sound really glittery. I just wanted to go for a simple, catchy vocal melody. It has a slightly positive vibe to it, but the lyrics are really, really dark.”

For sure, “Will O the Wisp” is a fairly basic and straightforward ode, yet its tight chords, dreamy synths and engrossingly hopeless hooks make it incredibly tempting and moving. Åkerfeldt’s perpetually layered singing adds warmth and strength, too, with the rest of the group steadily increasing their contributions until everything gels alongside the elegantly bluesy guitar solo and arresting outro (“And you can never find your satisfaction / When you can't outgrow your false distractions”).

By the end, it's downright awe-inspiring.

The first single from Heritage, this one gave a great indication of the experimental path Opeth were going to walk during the 2010s.

While much of Heritage is respectably daring and weird despite seeming half-developed, “The Devil’s Orchard” is an unmitigated triumph of in-your-face prog rock/jazz fusion strangeness.

Led by intricate constructions and rebellious decrees regarding mankind and religion, it feels as if the tuneful heft of Deep Purple and King Crimson melded with the eerie gothic film scores of Goblin. As vigorous and colorful as all five members are, it’s former keyboardist Per Wiberg whose vibrant accentuations and leads give “The Devil’s Orchard” its mischievously medieval quirkiness.

Across its numerous passages, "The Devil's Orchard" hints at the melodic appeal of Pale Communion, the psychedelic chaos of Sorceress and the avant-garde unpredictability of In Cauda Venenum, so it’s the ideal starting point for what was Opeth’s latest chapter.

If this list was ranked, “Eternal Rains Will Come” would take the top spot because it’s both the catchiest song the group ever wrote and the quintessential piece of Opeth’s no-growl puzzle. Obviously, that also means that it’s the best track from the best record of this era, with its initially enthralling callback to 1970s Italian prog rock flashiness and malevolence showcasing why keyboardist Joakim Svalberg was the right replacement for Wiberg.

The captivating verses and choruses are just as spellbinding, flowing as smoothly and gut-wrenchingly as can be to capture what’d it be like to watch everything and everyone you love get taken away by an apocalyptic disaster. Naturally, that’s due not only to Åkerfeldt’s singing but to his songwriting, which features some of the most vividly affective lines of his career (“You told me not to wait / Unless I could wait forever / Because there is no time for us / Take comfort in what was”).

It all works together seamlessly, resulting in a soul-crushing odyssey that permitted Opeth to come as close as possible to a perfect composition.