Can it really be the fifth album for American’s Withered? I own four of them now (I haven’t got their sophomore album, Folie Circulaire), and incredibly while they are a band whom I still tend to think of as new, they’ve actually been plying their trade since 2003. Verloren hears them going the self-produced route, with guitarist and vocalist Mike Thompson undertaking the duties.
This is, once again, another of the Withered albums which showcases their ability to produce material which takes influences from all over the extreme music spectrum, and be able to synthesise the work with an alchemical flourish. The dissonant guitars and screams betray the black metal influence, while the rhythm section in particular brings to mind the latter Celtic Frost albums or Tryptikon, straddling that line between the mammoth drone of Doom, with the bellowed vocals and occasional lurch into blasting of Death metal. Within the accompanying press piece, frontman Thompson says of Withered’s work,…”Industry types and peers seem to get it, but that’s about it”.
Verloren has Withered at their most extreme. This is a release which leans much more heavily into chaotic black metal than ever before, perhaps epitomised by the unhinged bestial romp that is “The Predation”. A swirl of buzzing, violent guitar work and vocals akin to wrapping barbed wire around your ears, the song suddenly and abruptly lurches into a leaden trawl through swamp water. Just when you think you have got the album figured out, the songwriting takes a psychedelic, unhinged wander onto paths less trod. The vocals, as a case in point, are an ever-changing succession of noises: shrieks, gravelly grunts, spoken words. Just as the song requires, so does the approach.
This isn’t though, by any stretch, an easy listen. This is an album which demands your attention. There’s just a huge amount to discover within each track. Lyrically, this album deals with loss, grief and introspection. The title track, a meditative instrumental number, sums up the feelings of reflection and adjustment. Several of the tracks here are truly epic in scope and sound. Closer “From Ashen Shores” epitomises this approach. Over eight minutes long, it snarls and flexes, writhes and morphs from one form to another. In terms of the production – it’s a raw, pretty primal sound that suits the band perfectly.
(7.5 Chris Davison)
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