It seemed like Rivers of Nihil had lost the plot pretty hard for a while there. From the mixed (though still largely positive) response to The Work (2021) and the slew of underwhelming singles that followed, to the departure of founding vocalist Jake Dieffenbach in apparently unamicable circumstances, and current bassist-cum-lead-vocalist Adam Biggs being called out for liking a bunch of stupid (and largely hateful) shit on the website formally known as Twitter—the band have been almost as impossible to defend as Machine Head have been over the past half-decade.
Let's get the biggest and most important one out of the way first: The self-cenred phrasing of the original call-out never really sat well with me, personally, and while Biggs' perhaps remains ignorant and steadfastly centrist in his apology, he also explicitly expressed his support for the communities he had apparently discriminated against while decrying the bigots he had seemingly supported as "clearly horrible" people. For me, that makes him someone who I'm wary about, and probably wouldn't want to hang out with, but whose music I'm comfortable listening to and continuing to talk about. Your conclusions may differ, but (as a big, smelly, straight, white guy) I don't think there's anything actually threatening about Biggs or the music he makes—although my judgement is perhaps (further) compromised by the fact that the music he and the rest of Rivers of Nihil have made on this eponymous outing also happens to be extremely good.
In its lead-up, Rivers of Nihil had all the hallmarks of a band making a self-titled album in a defiant effort to re-capture and redefine their identity amid such a turbulent and unsure period. Unlike many (lesser) bands in their position, however, Rivers of Nihil have not only succeeded in making a triumphant statement, but perhaps a definitive one as well. For one thing, they seem to have taken the right lessons from The Work. The off-the-deep-end prog fluff that both bloated and weighed-down that album has been eradicated entirely, while maintaining that record's moodier and more contemplative atmosphere and also bringing back some of the band's earlier, driving brutality. As such, Rivers of Nihil perhaps comes off more like a missing link between 2015's more aggressive Monarchy and the progressive magnum opus of Where Owls Know My Name (2017), than it does the follow-up to their previous effort. In essence though, it constitutes the accumulation of everywhere they've been before, while also introducing some newer, melodic elements as well.
In addition to Dieffenbach's departure, the period between Rivers of Nihil records also saw the exit of guitarist Jonathan Topore, and his replacement by Andy Thomas, who previously played with Black Crown Initiate (who are not without their own controversies). I feel kind of bad saying it, but Dieffenbach's presence isn't really missed, with Biggs—whose gruff growls have always been a prominant part of the band's sonic tapestry—seamlessly stepping into the frontman position. Meanwhile, the addition of Thomas is easily the best thing to happen to Rivers of Nihil since they first discovered the saxophone. If there's one thing that separates Rivers of Nihil from the rest of the band's discography, it's Thomas's melodic croon, which perfectly accentuates the band's already present progressive tendencies while simultaneously opening up a whole new dimension for them to explore as well. Thomas's tones are very Brann Dailor'esque, which along with the added vocal harmonies from drummer Jared Klein and the album's generally more morunful and melodic inclinations, lend Rivers of Nihil a rather Mastodon-esque quality. Indeed much of the record sounds like a mix of that band's more recent output and mid-period Decapitated, while still remaining distinctly Rivers of Nihil.
This more melodic dimension is also largely responsible for the record's few weaker moments, however. Rivers of Nihil's newfound vocal melodicism is foregrounded immediately, via the opening a cappella of "The Sub-Orbital Blues". Although it evidentially gives way to a stronger, melodic chorus, that opening section will always sound to me like they've been asked to incorporate it as part of a Musician Mansion challenge.* Less effective though is the chorus of "American Death", which—while ultimately catchy—is jarring in the suddenness and intensity of its transition, and is the one real time (besides the invocation of a Mason symbol on its cover) when the band's suspicious centrism is on full display, with Thomas boldly asking "Who's right? What's left?" while also ultimately coming down on the side of general peace, love and understanding.
The only other notable blemish on Rivers of Nihil is its eponymous closing track. While the band's first two albums are paced perfectly and each lead up to fittingly cumulative and cathartic conclusions, awkward book-eneding has made for some of the weaker moments on their last two records, with even the repeated motifs on "Capricorn / Agoratopia" feeling somewhat superfluous. Like that (ever so) slightly sub-par track, "Rivers of Nihil" is not weak enough to undo everything that came before it, but it is both surprisingly insubstantial and entirely forgettable, which shortcomings are only accentuated by the squandering of its eponymous title. It really is an odd track to end the album on, and—if I'm allowed to be on my (re)sequencing bullshit for a second—may have made more sense as an opener, along with "Dustman" and "Criminals", before leading into "The Sub-Orbital Blues" and the rest of the record as is. The album is hardly in need of an overhaul, however, and the mid-album (ultra) combo of "Despair Church", "Water & Time" and "House of Light"—which is as good as anything they or their competitors have come up with, save for Owls' opening run—more than makes up for it.
Despite drastic odds, Rivers of Nihil is an album that returns its namesake to the top of the progressive metal pile—if indeed they ever truly left it. Sure, I may have started rolling my eyes around the sixth saxophone solo upon first listen. With each subsequent visit, however, I've become more and more impressed with how the band have prevented these sections from becoming a gimmick by wholly incorporating it into their sound. The rest of the record, likewsie, shows a similar sense of nuance and mastery over their craft that few other bands in their scene have ever achieved. Rivers of Nihil, and the band themselves are not without their faults but, more often than not, it's their boldness that sets them apart from the crowd. It's only suitable then, that this self-titled effort is another potentially polerising addition to an already arguably inconsistent discography, that also only further cements them as one of, if not the best (progressive) death metal bands of the past decade.
*Soulfire absolutely should have won this, btw.