Despite its entrenchment in the '80s, time once was—during the early 2000s—when Australia had all the best power metal bands (that aren't called Blind Guardian). These days, I think you have to give it up for Sweden, what with the rise of Ordan Ogan and Sabaton, along with Hammerfall's recent semi-return to form. But between the likes of Vanishing Point, Silent Knight, Eyefear and Bane of Winterstorm et al., you could hardly swing your sword around down under, during during the first decade or so the new new millennium, without hitting upon one great power metal band or another. By far the best of these bands though were Black Majesty, whose first four albums at least (especially 2005's Silent Company) rank among the greatest power metal albums ever made, regardless of region.
Between then and now, the band have had a somewhat rocky trajectory. Since 2012's Stargazer they've continued trudging down the same well-worn power metal path to slightly diminishing returns, and balancing out even their better material with some of the most atrocious artwork known to man (or lion). Moreover, it's been the better part of a decade since Children of the Abyss (2018), and while the time off has perhaps poised Black Majesty to make a compelling comeback, this seventh outing only continues Black Majesty's (relatively) recent run of (relatively) uneven form, while also driving home just how long it's been since they were at the peak of their powers.
Oceans of Black's issues are apparent from it's opening track. "Dragonlord" is about as power metal by numbers as they come. The lyrics are beyond route, and it's pretty clear that vocalist John Cavaliere's voice has waned significantly over the last seven years. This is to be expected, but his lower and lesser range rather flattens the otherwise high-octane proceedings, and the rest of the band don't seem to have much interest in slowing down or lowering the tone their instrumentation to suit him. Or, if they have, it hasn't really worked. This becomes even more apparent later in the record, when it briefly comes alive during the gang-chorus of "Only the Devil", only to flatten out again as Cavaliere takes centre stage.
The second track, "Set Stone on Fire" has a lot more energy to it, and its slow symphonic build-up probably would have made a better opening to the album as a whole. What follows from there though falls back into the serviceable but uninspiring but patters of Black Majesty's later period. It sounds fine enough in the background, but pay any amount of attention and the song becomes rather ploddy, despite their inherently energetic power metal nature. They also blur together pretty indistinguishably. Again, while there's nothing really subpar about proceedings, there also aren't really any memorable riffs or the kind of overblown melodies that the genre and this band in particular have historically hung their helmets on.
The lack of identity and excitement in Oceans of Black's compositions, combined with Cavaliere's constrained delivery, means that most of its songs are spent waiting around for the solo sections, where founding guitarist Hanny Mohammed and newcomer Clinton Bidie really let rip. The solo sections in "Raven" and "Lucifer" are particularly stimulating, but they too become predictable and repetitive and the engagement the inspire only further highlights how unremarkable a lot of what occurs in between has become. By the time tits midsections rolls around, the record has become beyond monotonous. Its unfortunately pirate-themed cover art (provided by Bidie) comes perilously close to running afoul my zero-tolerance pirate metal policy, and the title-track only provides further fodder as to why only Swashbuckle should be allowed to get away with such things, while also further cementing the distance between Black Majesty and current title-holders Orden Ogan.
Oceans of Black is desperately in need of variation. I spent the majority of its hour-long runtime crying out for a ballad. Yet, while on Silent Company Black Majesty were smart enough to drop the masterful "Six Ribbons" at track three (of nine), on Oceans of Black they wait all the way until track nine of twelve to switch up the pace, by which point the monotony has had more than enough time to set in. "Got a Hold of You" is certainly no "Six Ribbons", although—ironically—it's climactic solo fade out might have made for a fitting conclusion to the record. The problem is that Oceans of Black keeps going, for another three, fairly standard tracks.
With a bit of trimming, at both its ends, along with a bit of added variation, Oceans of Black could have been a stronger addition to Black Majesty's latter catalogue, if not an entirely triumphant comeback. As is, its an inoffensive addition to their catalogue—well, apart from the pirate parts—but one which is hard to stomach all at once and which suggests that taking another seven years to release the next record might not be the best option. It's still a hell of a lot better than whatever Halloween are putting out these days though.