Spearheaded by bands like Wolves in the Throne Room, Cattle Decapitation and Gojira and arguably led out of the woods of incognition and into the arena-metal mainstream by the latter of those three, environmental activism and metal have had a long and recently surging relationship. From Testament’s 1989 “Greenhouse Effect” to Fit for an Autopsy’s 2022 “Pandora”, songs that rage righteously against humanity’s detrimental role in climate systems breakdown are part and parcel to metal culture, and have in recent years blessedly reinvigorated metal's identity as counter-culture. What threatened to become a genre of rich, out-of-touch industry darlings raging against a machine they had ironically become a part of, has at least in some corners of the metal sphere been reforged into a sharp instrument of critical thought and a platform for artistic environmental activism.
Mawiza further this tradition, but importantly also inform it with a strong decolonial message, a much-needed breath of fresh air in a genre overpopulated by European and North-American artists. Mawiza sprang forth from from Mallwapu, homeland of the Mapuche nation, in what today is more commonly known as Chile, and have engaged in a two-pronged, intersectional fight against colonial and environmental exploitation through their specific brand of groovy (death) metal, injected with an exhilarating dose of Mapuche heritage, as well as the steel-toed kick of metallic hardcore. While comparisons to Gojira run amok (and considering both bands mutual admiration and collaboration are warranted), there is also some Harms Way to be found in this muscular mixture, and when the dust settles it is undeniable that Mawiza are a beast of entirely their own making.
From the first moments of opener “Wingkawnoam”, the band's sound is firmly established. Driven by circling, kinetic riffs that evoke a swarm of hornets as much as they do a whizzing hail of bullets or a hummingbird bred for war, underpinned by a stomping, grooving rhythm section and brimming with an array of harsh and clean vocals sung, screamed, roared and retched entirely in Mapuzungun (the ancestral language of the Mapuche people). Mawiza have found their identity and are eager to unleash it -writhing, snarling and angry at the right things- on their eager audience. Awka (vocals & rhythm guitar), Karü (lead guitar & backing vocals), Zewü (bass & backing vocals and Txalkan (drums & percussion) deliver us this triumphant work , stating (according to the promo material ) that: ”The album represents the voice of the land, the origin of feeling, the first call to connect with emotions. It is the materialization of a part of the spirit that, for a few seconds, becomes one with the wind—a force we can hear, resonate, communicate with, and return to. Ül is Mawiza’s indigenous chant, and like smoke, it rises as a message to the skies.”
Ül is indeed an album of arresting emotional immediacy, snapping from anthemic melody to atavistic attack-mode at the drop of a dime, as exemplified by the transitions just after the two minute mark on early album highlight “Ngulutu”, where Mawiza rush through a charging, clanging riff into the eye of the proverbial storm with a beautiful short vocal and drum reprieve, before the guitars rush back in, together with a acerbic screams, ultimately barreling towards and exploding in a spine-altering climax. There is a powerful energy and a pulsing kineticism that permeates this record and is convincingly embodied by heavy, bruising tracks like absolute ripper “Nawelkunuwnge” and late-album bruiser “Lhan Antü”; while the more obviously anthemic emotional moments are carried by mid-album “Mamüll Reke”, with it’s powerful chanting vocals and interesting guitar harmonies, and immediate follow-up “Wenu Weychan”, with its beautiful opening and blistering yet colorful riff that transitions into a harpsichord-like melody. Ending the album on a high note with jaw-harp acrobatics and plenty of Gojira-isms in the guitars (some of which feature Joe Duplantier himself) “Ti Inan Paw-Pawkan” heralds conclusion in a lyrical sense as well, terminating with the (translated) lines: "I await my departure soon, Like cursed smoke, So that I may arrive cleansed, To the deep blue."
While some would say they stand on the shoulders of a ubiquitous French giant, Mawiza very much forge their own path, one of action more than contemplation, and one of a powerful, hopeful decolonial indignation, rather than a fatalist worldview. They wear their influences on their sleeve, but have clearly found their signature sound on Ül. If I had to level any criticism, I would say previous album Kollong had some wild and interesting songwriting (“Killari” comes to mind) that seems to have been left by the wayside here, to be reclaimed by the undergrowth. That is an entirely understandable choice though, as Mawiza focus their sound and soar into the vast blue maw of impending greatness, carried on the updraft of a powerful message, an identity rooted in commendable values and the unmistakable current of a know-it-when-you-hear-it collection of electrifying bangers. I’d keep an eye on the sky, as these Mapuche mavericks might just swoop down and sink their tantalising, hooky talons into you and not let go, and I'll gladly soar along for the ride and see where their broad wings take us next.