Released: 2006, Battle Kommand Records/Southern Lord
Reviewer: Gabriel C. Zolman
A friend of winter (the season) and Winter (the band), this is icy and lethargic doom-death with a darkened, fuzzy guitar sound, and a blackened whiskey growl and snarl.
As repetitive as you might expect, but better than you think, I would say this compares favorably to a gravel-voiced Saint Vitus, with input from a demechanized Godflesh or It Is I (remember those guys?).
True Doom-Death has been hard to come by of late, despite (or perhaps because of?) the more-or-less commercialization of the Doom genre itself. Everything is Mastodon or Pile Of Skulls now. Everything is The Sword or The Hidden Hand. Nothing sounds like Winter or old Paradise Lost anymore. Remember Skeleton Of God? Remember Grinch? This has that same sinister, black-clouds-on-the-horizon and both-feet-stuck-in-Hell blackened gritty ambience to it. Its dark, clanging chords wring alternately with utter menace, utter sorrow, and utter dread.
At its nastiest, it’s the second coming of Skepticism (“Mons Venus”); at its smoothest (“Bullwhip”), it’s a basement High On Fire. Ultimately, the band finds its truest niche in between, with tracks like the slick, sick crawling “Honey And Salt.” It won’t be to all tastes, but then, your local 911operator will be relieved.
And plus one point because giant squid are cool.