Februus is the ancient Roman god of putrefaction and cleansing. Symbolically, a figure's fiery dome alludes to rampant mental activity, psychological distress, or enlightenment. The firey-headed two gentlemen on the cover art of Construction of Conflict (illustrated by Daniel Karlsson) are probably undergoing some divine spiritual awakening in the presence of that god. The Swedish one-man progressive death metal act Februus aren't strangers to the concept of the flaming noggin: last year, they released a short EP, The Crushing Pressure of Oppressive Thought, featuring a similarly-suited man with what seems to be his brain floating above him with a trail of flames. But can the project's death metal truly melt one's face?
Februus is the work of solo member Andreas Karlsson juggles vocals, guitars, bass, synths, and drum programming—no wonder his head's on fire! He associates with tough-to-play genres, supposedly techdeath blended with progressive metal, but sonically, his artistic choices are questionable. While technically professional, Construction of Conflict is produced incredibly unharmoniously, which would make sense if Karlsson aimed for a dissonant death metal record, which it may as well be. His vocals are echoed close to beyond audibility, and the drums follow suit. Can you fathom how loud everything has to be for the drums—on a progressive/technical death metal album—to be mostly undetectable? Only during thrashy segments like the near-end of "The First Limb is Cut" or, at their fullest, during the jazzy instrumental interlude "The Misery That Awaits the World" can you truly detect the drums, and I'm not as disgruntled as I should be at the fact of their programming, since I can't hear them anyway.
I'll reiterate it once more: the guitars on this album are LOUD. Riff-forward instrumentation is key to Februus' style, and the riffs sure are friggin' forward. Karlsson is a guitar maestro, able to both noodle with care (see "Fueled by Narcissism" for a lovely, lengthy solo) and wank around (see the aforementioned song's closer for chiptune-adjacent blasts) concisely, but there are better ways of proving this than with noxiously blaring mixing. On denser compositions like "Measures of Escalation" and "Suppressing the Future," the atmosphere is simply draining because of its overwhelming levels of chugging. Most of these stouter cuts' efforts to ease the conditions by way of a waltzy, guitar-led component or a jazzy break, but the "recorded in an alleyway" effect strips these additions of their supposed relief. I'm sure Karlsson had great intentions with these features, but they can't distract from the glaring production job. These segments are also the only times his bass and synths are tended to; two instruments that could contribute plenty to the record's atmosphere if it weren't for their sonic exclusion.
After a solid forty-and-a-half minutes, you'll acclimate to Februus's mixing job, and you may even find it endurable. But beginning the album is quite difficult, and your precious headphones need to be 5% lower than what you think. Otherwise, Andreas Karlsson is going to immolate your brain.