One
of the perks of metal band research is the dramatically increased
knowledge of all things morbid. For every band name that is just some
conglomeration of the words Dark/Iron/Goat there is one that actually
enlightens you. Such is the case with Hela, a Spanish psychedelic doom
band with a stoner rock foundation, who named their band after a Norse
goddess of Death, usually described as being half beautiful woman and
half skeleton, who happens to be a compassionate caretaker for the souls
of those whose deaths were not caused by combat.
On Broken Cross,
Hela’s sound has a similar dichotomy; strikingly heavy with
surface-level intimidation but a heart of gold beneath the sinister
shroud. On “Horns of God” and “Wicked King” they establish their modus
operandi: Playing towering, groovy riffs with bluesy NOLA sensibilities
as Isabel Sierras’ mystic voice floats above the din like notes played
from a flute crafted from human bone. Throughout the album the lead
guitar is incredibly restrained, so relaxed you can picture the
guitarist playing eyes-closed with a spliff dangling haphazardly from
his lips. The uninspiring lead guitar is one of the main reasons songs
like “March of the Minotaurs” and “Black Eagle” seem to plod a bit, just
chewing up track time as the rhythm section works at the same riff like
a piece of tough jerky, trying to keep it all headbangable. In the
metal world, headbangable = bangable.
There
are nice moments here, even when the music feels a bit predictable,
like the soulful blues licks kicking off “Flesh Ceremony” and the
confident double-bass swagger of “Slave of the Witch,” but several of
these songs dawdle too much for my liking. These tracks have mainstream
rock accessibility but linger too long while falling in love with their
own riffs. There are some catchy melodies and good ideas, but I feel
this album needs a radio edit to make it as concise as possible for it
to reach its full potential. I just suggested a radio edit, which means
somewhere a true metal warrior is now planning my assassination and
sharpening a spiked mace. I really don’t have a problem with nine minute
songs, but you have to earn that length, and Hela rely too much on
flourishes that are ultimately distracting, like the looooooong
barely-audible movie clips beginning and closing the album.
There’s no shortage of fuzzy, spaced-out doom riffage on Broken Cross.
If you want some music to accompany you on long desert drives through a
landscape that seems to morph like a lava lamp, this is your jam. The
album is approachable and safe and washes its hands before and after
dinner, but it can still let its hair down and rock enough to break a
sweat. Overall, Hela just need to trim the fat, challenge the lead
guitarist a bit, and quit spending so much time with all those peaceful
underworld souls, ‘cause they aren’t the rowdiest crowd on the block.
Listen to the album streaming over at Bandcamp at: http://discosmacarras.bandcamp.com/album/broken-cross
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