REVIEW: SHROUD EATER - DEAD ENDS

I have fond memories of discovering Floridian doom trio Shroud Eater when I first became acquainted with Bandcamp, listening to their ThunderNoise album while my sanity was flaking away like dried mud during an overnight shift. Their newest release, Dead Ends, significantly raises the bar and blasts them into the elite class of the stoner/sludge/doom genres. I don’t consider this shit-talking, but this album sounds like what a lot of people hoped Kylesa would release this year.

From the first rumbles of “Cannibals,” Shroud Eater welcome the listener into their appropriately dim, muddy audiosphere, with Janette Valentine’s bass tuned so low it’s like a dog-whistle made just for Cthulu. The (mostly) instrumental song sounds like summoning a gigantic beast from the black waters of a deep-sea lair, or maybe a psalm for some stoner deity, pleading to rain LSD down into the smoke-exhaling mouths of an hallucinating tribe. Felipe Torres’ percussion provides feral energy and hypnotic groove as “Sudden Plague” prowls forward, sprinkling in some elegant melody that sits atop the back of the song’s enormous sound like a brightly feathered bird on some tusked beast.

The sound on Dead Ends is so full and projects nearly supernatural size with its monolithic riffs that it’s difficult comprehending only three humans making the noise. It feels like it would take a cyclops herd or a band of morose swamp giants to create music this massive. Valentine and guitarist Jean Saiz both share vocalist duties, often joining in ethereal harmonies that remind me of John Baizley’s bittersweet melodies. “Lord of the Sword” and “The Star and the Serpent” both imitate waves crashing harder and harder against a shore as the music builds to a storm, which is fitting since the album’s tremendous single is titled “Tempest.” “Tempest” is a head-banging cruise on a battered warship through razor-waved waters infested with fanged squids. The song’s in turns pummelling and entrancing, clearing the fog with mystically reverberating clean guitar before sinking back into the murk as the mist rolls back in. Despite my affection for doom I’ve never warmed up to drone, but Dead Ends expertly uses drone hypnosis to build a stage strong enough to support the Kongh-heavy riffs.

With flashes of psychedelic lightning to match their ear-punching thunder, this is one storm you wish would last longer than 28+ minutes. And for the ultimate irony, for an album called Dead Ends, this album absolutely feels more like a black-iron gateway to a thousand different paths. No matter which one Shroud Eater takes, we’re all in for future storms we can look forward to.

Stream Dead Ends over on Bandcamp here and see why I’m making such a huge fuss over this album:  http://shroudeater.bandcamp.com/album/dead-ends-2

And check out their official website, with gig/merch information:  http://www.shroudeaterrocks.com/

REVIEW: HELA - BROKEN CROSS

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

And check out their Facebook page for more information:  https://www.facebook.com/Helaband

REVIEW: MOUNT SALEM - ENDLESS

 

 

Somewhere in or around Chicago (my gut tells me Ravenswood) there is a coven of witches with impeccable musical taste who conjured Mount Salem from a smoking cauldron of black water. There is very little information available about the members of Mount Salem but the music they’ve created on Endless feels supernatural and triggers my overactive imagination. I’m not sure of the exact recipe the coven used, but it goes something like this: A heavy broth base of massive doom riffs, healthy doses of doped-up Muddy Waters electric Chicago blues, a splash of garage rock (from the darkest imaginable garage, built on an old burial ground), and a hallucinogenic pinch of occult rock psychadelia. And eye of newt, of course. Somewhere there’s a very sad pack of blind newts swimming aimlessly in a bog.

From the opening quote on “Good Times,” provided by none other than Charles Manson, Endless exists on a twisted, ethereal plain anchored by metallic heaviness while supporting the soothing vocals of their female lead singer. A minute into the song there’s already mention of burned churches, and with this musical accompaniment you can picture someone walking through the ashes enjoying the fragrance like floral incense. This is music that creates images, demands attention, and engages all senses. Endless is also accessible in the best of ways: It does not betray its heaviness with catchiness and melody. The riffs that carry these songs on their backs compare favorably to some of the best work by Sleep and Electric Wizard and feel like gentle giants: Huge in size and sound, but displaying soul.

Every song on this album is essential. Even “Mescaline,” the mid-album instrumental intermission, now a staple within the doom genre, is the perfect somber, dreamy departure from the heavy crunch of the rest of the record. Mount Salem has also already perfected what I call “psychedelic dirges,” where the keyboards and vocals dance slyly, even seductively, over ominous, heavily distorted breakdowns. It has all the same mystery and beauty of a Dario Argento horror scene, complete with the stylized bloodletting. Endless ironically concludes with “The End,” perhaps the best example of musicianship on the album, including every element of their signature sound, from smoky, goth blues to brutally loud, fuzzy stoner rock. This song will be my lullaby for a long time.

Endless feels like it’s trapped in the nightmarish head-space of a psychic medium on a bad trip. This is another album that I feel I could play for diehard metalheads and curious rock fans who may be unfamiliar with doom and receive enthusiastic responses from both. While the vocalist may sing that “this is the end of everything,” as a fan of heavy music I will gladly delay the apocalypse for a few more albums from Mount Salem.

Listen to the album here and support the band on their merch page:  http://mountsalem.bandcamp.com/album/endless

And follow them on Facebook to learn more about their upcoming tour:  https://www.facebook.com/MountSalem