ConanConan’s popularity has never been higher, and deservedly so: Unassuming yet highly talented and with a unique sound and vision they have gigged relentlessly anywhere and everywhere and have almost become Roadburn’s house band. Not bad for a band only just hitting their second full length studio album here.

Which brings us to Blood Eagle. In my 2013 end of year list I had a little tantrum about the state of sludge metal and it’s plunge into ever decreasing circles of utterly dull post-rock posing and shoegazing with no songs worth anything other than going to the bar time. But I also cited Conan and their ‘caveman battle doom ‘ as a shining exception. And, damn, if they haven’t proved me justified in that singling out. Just not quite in the manner I expected: Progression.

Don’t panic; this is still immediately recognisable as Conan. Monolithic basalt riffs, those brilliant crying vocals, the rock solid drumming and most importantly the song-writing. But there is a shift in these tectonic plates and whether that equates to an earthquake depends on where you stand.

Conan have always built their sound around a warped, crushed and pummelled version of, essentially, Sabbathum doom (no, really, it’s the warped bluesy groove and it is there) with a thick, tar-pit of sludge ladled on top to seep into every nook. It’s the ladling that has shifted here. And yes I went back to Monnos to check, and no you might not notice the difference in the black hole pull of their live performances. But there it is.

Simply put: The sound has pulled back from the all-enveloping sludge distortion in the bass in particular. Still hugely down-tuned, but you can  actually hear the edges of these huge riffs now, It’s not clean (hell, it’s still well beyond filthy), not sharp, no cries of ‘No, it’s melodic!’ need be uttered. We are safe. There is a constant, almost deep space summoning rumble in the background throughout besides the inherent heaviness. But it is a dense rumble not a loose string flapping in the wind blanket of sludge. You can hear edges in the guitar and that has really highlighted, outlined even, the gravitational groove in these still pitch black heavy riffs. It has accentuated the shape of the songs like their name-giver rising from the thick swamp with a mud encrusted but vicious edged axe raised high.

See? Told you. Conan. Write. Songs.

‘Crown Of Talons’ begins the album with all the above exemplified; a slow, bruising bull of a song dragging a granite plough through the mud but with eyes raised to the skies in the vocal tune. Plodding but superbly framed riff, mirrored by the vocals and hammered by the drums it is an excellent beginning that nicely rattles the ears.

‘Total Conquest’ is probably about as down tuned as you can get without plunging into subsonics, riffs actually gathering themselves to mid pace and in danger of collapsing in on themselves with the pressure that creates. Somehow, through some thumping drum breaks carrying the song, and forcing that ‘speed’ the song retains its shape and is a memorable belligerent tune.

‘Foehammer’ is shocking: It practically sprints out of the blocks, billowing blown out riffs like breath from nostrils. An almost Portal like blanket of mutant death metal colliding with the doomy riff before it firms into some sentient locomotive and bulldozes into a true, fuzzed out Conan riff. Frankly this is magnificent even as it hisses steam  the cymbal sound and screeches to a halt in metal rending feedback. Brilliant writing, glorious execution.

‘Gravity Chasm’, at eight minutes the second longest track here, is almost a Conan version of boogie in the severely grooved, bouncing riff. It’s Hawkwind in a black tar coated monster truck rattling and rolling down into the title and pulling us all with it. It beats you into submission, hands wrapped tight to the wheel and that monstrous sound pushing you over the event horizon. With nicely handled tempo changes, total doom moments and repetitive sections that hold you, daring you to look away it really works.

‘Horns For Teeth’ as a title reminds me of the Motorhead warpig design. As a song though it is pure Conan. A little variation in the vocals, almost a backing growl. It adds a little colour and once more highlights the song-writing. It’s a jagged little number really in its own way, pushing and pulling at you insistently, teeth sunk in. It’s kind of like being worried by a slow, deformed mastiff, shaking and dragging you this way then that but offering no escape until it has finished.

The album closes with nine minutes of ‘Altar Of Grief’. Almost martial drumming and a low, slow growl of a guitar sound on the edges of feedback bring you in for the riff to rise up, monolith like, and just crash over you. It is doom and it is dark; the voice seemingly offering a cautionary tale as we watch the waves of slow, thick guitar plunge a world beneath the seas. Once more the weird realisation of how traditional the basic riff is in its doom styling but just pressed and crushed into something entirely other pushes through. It is a meaty, thoroughly satisfying sound, a fine song that simply shudders to a halt.

There you are. Conan. All along they have described their sound as ‘caveman battle doom’ and if Blood Eagle doesn’t provide proof positive to you that they do indeed stand far closer to doom than sludge nothing will. Warped, crushed, thick black swamp doom, but doom. This is a song-writing showcase, a bludgeoning, fuzzed out lesson of excellence and atmosphere and a step on from Monnos to boot.

What is greatest in life Conan? To crush your enemies with riffs and to hear the lamentations of their hipsters.

Best yet from them.

(9/10 Gizmo)

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