Even for lovers of the Doom genre such as myself, it’s never a bad thing when a new variant on the strain comes along. Step forward Vouna, a Washington state-based project, whose synth-heavy take on the Funeral sound adds lush, frosted textures to a bleak atmosphere.Continue reading
The state of Maryland has a truly grand Doom legacy, and new quartet Alms aim to carry that on. Described by some as purveyors of a Funeral brand, the Baltimore outfit’s roots and product lean more towards seventies Occult Rock, despite the slow speed of some tracks.Continue reading
According to News.com.au, the funeral for AC/DC guitarist Malcolm Young will be taking place on November 28th at St Mary’s Cathedral in Sydney, Australia. Continue reading
Myrkur will be releasing the highly anticipated follow up to 2015’s M on Friday (September 15th) via Relapse Records, and we have another taste of Mareridt for you today. Continue reading
Finnish Doom has a habit of eliciting serious emotion, whether it be down to the plaintive melodies and atmospheres or the downright trudging pace. Arche have all of these characteristics in spades and, on this label reissue of their début EP Undercurrents (Third-I Rex), their heartbreaking Funeral dirge is presented to devastating effect.
Occasionally implosive, often brittle, the guitar work of opener ‘Plains of Lethe’ has acoustic and melancholic moments, the lead melodies slow, meaningful and occasionally evoking the wistful pattern of Swallow The Sun and Saturnus. The only voice here, however, is that of Profetus guitarist Eppe Kuismin, and it begins as a barely audible, whispered growl before its guttural roar introduces the final third in terrifying, solitary fashion. It’s here that the crushing weight of huge yet emotive riffs add a mighty chapter, despite the billowing atmospherics and subtle yet striking keys.
Those airs swirl around the depressive tumult of ‘Funereal Folds’, again graced by titanic riffs and reaching the edge of crescendo when that agonised, expiring roar enters the fray, yet retaining its stirring power with deliberate leadwork and wonderfully dictatorial drums. At times the monster rests, Bell Witch-like, appearing shattered and spent in its fight against fate yet unwilling to cede quietly, its power still resonating in the fulminating roar and beautiful chords. The drop to the coda is devastating, the acoustic tones tearing every heartstring asunder, and sparse yet hulking bass kicks reinforcing that Bell Witch comparison.
Quite simply this is a beautiful, staggering piece of work. Some feel that the mewling of pained leadwork has no place in a genre where to crush uncompromisingly is the aim; and in some acts it can often lose meaning. Arche, however, hit near alchemy and this morose, gorgeous, lonely behemoth deserves serious attention this time around.
8.5/10.0
PAUL QUINN
2015 was a big year for Californian duo Keeper: the original issue of EP The Space Between Your Teeth following mere months after their mammoth split with Sea Bastard, and just weeks before an evil joint release with Canadians Old Witch. This reissue (Third I Rex) sees its two epic, crawling tracks get a fresh press and boy, do they deserve it.
The howling, lamenting guitar opening ‘The King’ decorates a Funeral pace before Penny Keats’ hideous, prurient larynx covers the body in unholy juices. A Blackened scream full of pain, evocative of ex-Lord Mantis rasper Charlie Fell, its relentless pitch is both unnerving and affecting. The weight of the brutal yet monolithic mid-section is pulverising and lifted only slightly by the evocative bass passages of Jacob Lee, so reminiscent of Dylan Desmond. This graces the final move toward a consuming, resounding swell: a euphoric yet terrible triumph, The Great Diseased railing to the skies against their plight.
Segueing seamlessly into ‘The Fool’, Keats’ slightly more uplifting drum pattern duels against the harrowing squall before a reverb-drenched riff accompanies more horrific utterances. With a filthier, more malevolent expression does the EP’s second half spew forth, creeping with similar intent to that of the girl emerging from the well in the remake of The Ring. It’s an oppressive sound yet, with the merest hint of quickened pace from those cleverly dictating drums, it is lifted from the occasionally turgid monotony: a gradually building wall of portent suddenly dropping into an utterly crushing mid-section. In raising the track back from the floor Keats’ voice assumes demonic proportions in both foetid hostility and power, underpinned by more subtle bass lead, until a barely controlled explosion seeps and squeals through the speakers, and alarming drums send the fulminating close careering into the dank earth.
It’s hard to acclaim a reissue as a tour de force, but this is as close as it gets. It’s a testing listen yet, for those of us with a more disgusting and slow musical palate, it’s an opportunity to bask in the most wondrous embodiment of acrid recrimination and ferocious protest.
8.5/10.0
PAUL QUINN
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With both Idols and Samothrace members involved, the melodic, mournful qualities of Un’s Funeral horror comes as something of a pleasant surprise.
The sparse, shimmering beauty of ‘Epigraph’, the opening track from début album The Tomb of All Things (Black Bow), gives way to the Bell Witch-esque ‘Sol Marasmus’: not quite possessing the pulverising claustrophobia of that band’s gut-wrenching intensity but with all of their emotion, the atmospheric mid-point coming across like a Doom-laden Amenra with the tortured holler of Conan’s Jon Davis atop it. The surrounding textures are heavy and lamenting, contrasting Monty McCleery’s voice: a roar of nefarious depth which leaves used tar barrels everywhere shuddering in fear. Humming, lowing riffs rumble without the expected crush, yet the drop to the gentle coda is so sudden it is paradoxically deafening.
The chord progression opening ‘Forgotten Path’, meanwhile, is an utter reducer which invokes images of Dylan Desmond’s petrifying bass work, whilst the crash introducing a heart-rending melody awakens the listener from their cocooned stupor. Again, the descents into quiet introspection are as startling as the reanimation, which is occasionally quickened by Andrew Jamieson’s artful stickwork, yet always possesses the gravity of the saddest moment of your life. McCleery’s vocal is Ethan McCarthy-like in its fearsome power while the lead and rhythm guitars blend the inconsolable musicality of Pallbearer and Vulgaari with sinister overtones.
Those drums patter delicately across ‘Through the Luminous Dusk’, gorgeous post- melodies offsetting the guttural agony of the enveloping roars and screams. Whilst the overwrought soloing is occasionally more at home in a Rock ballad, Jamieson’s sticks, gradually increasing in power, maintain the track’s impact. The sumptuously mellow chords introducing the closing title track, however, regain that emotive quality and set the scene for some truly crushing riffs which are only augmented by that funereal pace.
Exquisite and poignant leadwork befits the closure of an album which, for the most part, balances perfectly its light and dark elements. A blackened scream takes us into an explosive, stirring finale and fully embodies the anger, pain and crippling sadness coursing through an affecting and memorable release.
8.0/10
PAUL QUINN