So, for the first time in 2024, I am putting the metaphorical quill to parchment and that sound you can hear, is the creaking and popping of wordsmithing cartilage and bone, as my scrambled mind attempts to decipher music from background noise, a gurgling radiator, and the sorrowful chirruping of a kingfisher with a broken foot. And as the day untangles itself from its grey, cold, and misty beginnings, so the fog and icy, chilled air, pours out of the speakers of my computer manifesting itself as the transcendental black and doom metal stylings of The Oldest House, as it sits on my chest and does its best to wrestle the gristle from my chest and eyes. I know literally nothing about this one-man band comprising of, the intriguingly named A.M. who ‘s day job is fronting Aversio Humanitatis who also represent somewhat of a veritable musical blind spot.

It’s always a little disconcerting when you come across pieces of work created by a singular entity, for a myriad of reasons, and despite my obvious genuflection at the musical dexterity required of such a task, such exercises can be fraught with danger. Chief amongst these concerns is the ability of the artist to be able to distinguish clag from clay. In other words, to be able (and willing) to exercise a modicum of self and quality control. You can picture the scene, A.M. sitting in his icy, fetid dungeon (probably bedroom though, but never let the truth get in the way of a good story) pouring over his work, either delighting in his musical accomplishments by having an afternoon of onanism, or shredding his hard drive, pouring a can of Irn Bru over his laptop and setting himself on fire. There’s a fine line between genius and serial killer, as we all walk a mental tightrope daily, trying to keep ourselves on the right side of things without causing ourselves any real problems.

So, is this masturbatory or self-immolation time for The Oldest House? Well, truth be told, it’s probably somewhere in between. Diving in, it initially feels like an outtake from the soundtrack to Flash Gordon, with a harsh mechanised percussive backbone that has the flavour of early Godflesh/Neurosis but without the serrated edges (nor gift for song-writing sadly). There are times however, when The Oldest House, seem willing to cut through the detritus and get things rocking, none more so than on album closer ‘The Painting On The Wall’, where a china cymbal stomp ushers in a lovely buzzy bass and doomy low end guitar that thrashes about in slow motion with choral chanting and gasping vocals, before segueing into a sped up double bass infused thrash around that’s a decent ending to an album that should be commended as an obvious labour of love but ultimately, as a body of work, it lacks a degree of originality and song-writing nuance. There are moments that punctuate this album’s running time, that wouldn’t sound out of place on an album by an emo/indie band such as say The Walkman playing the soundtrack to the film ‘Drive’. All hovering keyboards, and delicate tonal shifts, which, given the predominating, middle of the road, doomy aspects of the album. I have to say, I much prefer the less metallic flavourings that punctuate the more formulaic, straightforward, and traditional metallic influences.

In conclusion, efforts like this should be warmly applauded and encouraged, BUT many of the songs on this album, are vanilla and generic examples of a genre that doesn’t exactly lend itself to experimentation. A Worm Through Time does not break any new ground from a musicality perspective, and despite all the best will in the world, and with a bonus mark for all the obvious time, blood, sweat and tears that have gone into creating this album, it only represents a passable stab at doom/sludge metal with the odd dash of black metal overtures. Sporadic flashes of real quality in the quieter and non-metal corners of this album come to this album’s rescue, but as to whether these splashes of colour are intended as a vehicle for the heavier aspects of this album (or is it the other way round?) or not, is a moot point because, whichever way you look at, this collection of songs simply doesn’t do enough to warrant anything other than a mid-table, middling review.

(5.5/10 Nick Griffiths)

https://i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/album/a-worm-through-time