Album Type: Full Length
Date
Released:
18/07/2017
Label: Seeing Red Records
With three tracks spread across 45
minutes, each song embraces sprawl and space: the reverb heavy drum tone pounds
like the pulse of a leviathan. The low
end guitar tone crackles with fuzz, while the bass rumbles so menacingly that,
with the right sound system, you may get your guts churning like you’ve just
been forced to smoke a whole pack of unfiltered cigarettes – you’ve got the
cold sweats, your insides feel poisoned, and you’re probably gonna puke, but
god damn it you’re hooked
1.
Feeble Preacher
2.
Owlcrusher
3.
Spoiler
The Review
One
of my oldest friends also happens to be one of the most skilled musicians I’ve
ever met. He’s not exactly unimpressed
by speed shredders, but he taught me a lesson a few years back: if you want to
truly punish yourself and hone your precision to a razor fine edge, try running
through a song at half speed. Try to cut
that in half again. You will never see
skilled musicians doubt their own abilities when each flubbed chord, each sour
note, each early cymbal crash rings out like a screamed expletive during an
Easter Sunday mass. Sludge. Doom.
Funeral doom. These aren’t
“easier” versions of metal when they’re played with the ferocious intensity and
terrifying precision of a group as remarkable as Owlcrusher. This Northern Irish trio has been ripping for
nearly a decade and have just
self-released their debut LP: their combination of glacial riffing, blistering
vocals, and sludge chaos have caused ripples in the underground metal press.
From
the opening of “Feeble Preacher”,
the whole mammoth affair has a delightfully unsavory flavor: even the ambient
tones recall the scuzzy industrial planetscapes of Eraserhead. But when the trio comes to life, the sheer
scope is undeniably menacing. With three
tracks spread across 45 minutes, each song embraces sprawl and space: the
reverb heavy drum tone pounds like the pulse of a leviathan. The low end guitar tone crackles with fuzz,
while the bass rumbles so menacingly that, with the right sound system, you may
get your guts churning like you’ve just been forced to smoke a whole pack of
unfiltered cigarettes – you’ve got the cold sweats, your insides feel poisoned,
and you’re probably gonna puke, but god damn it you’re hooked. Speaking of poisoned viscera,
guitarist/vocalist Andrew Spiers sounds like he’s been living on an unholy mix
of crematory ashes and sulphuric acid, in the best way possible. His whispers, shrieks, and guttural moans
weave through the massive spaces between riffs and fills, creating unbearable
tension before retreating to the shadows for some triumphant guitar solos.
Title
track (band theme song?) “Owlcrusher”
has an undeniably catchy guitar hook that repeats, harmonizes, and curls on
itself in the final few minutes, settling into a groove so sweet it’s nearly
human – before collapsing into sublime, shrieking feedback and demonic
wails. But don’t let Spiers’ almost classic
metal riffs, harmonies, and trills fool you: “Owlcrusher” is a punishing, depressive experience. Closing track “Spoiler” feels like a real-time treatise on decay. For a brief span, Hobson and McKeown drop out
entirely, and their absence highlights their crucial, precise rhythmic balance
to Spiers’ looser, sludgy guitars. When
the trio reasserts itself in the album’s closing minutes, the lurching
propulsion is as exhilarating as funeral doom gets. With a debut this dirty, this skilled, and
this menacing, I hope to hell I don’t have to wait nearly a decade for more Owlcrusher.
