Brume (pronounced broom, like witches’ favourite means of transport) are a doom metal/rock quartet from San Francisco, California. In their music, they blend doom, goth, indie rock and a dash of psychedelia. This is my first encounter with them, but it’s likely to be a memorable one, because their third album Marten is quite something. Long-time fans can also expect something new, since their line-up now includes a cellist; and the cello gives their doom an additional dose of depth and drama. Brume’s soundscapes thus range from minimalistic to opulent, from intimate to explosive, from a heavy melancholia to an intoxicating, infectious wrath.
On the album’s cover, in front of a blood-red velvet curtain is depicted a spikey, pitch-black, glitzy throne, carved from wood and adorned with animal and weapons imagery. A taxidermized marten, a weasel-like animal, has been placed on the throne, looking like it has just climbed it. Baring its sharp, little teeth, the animal appears triumphant and cunning, satisfied with its achievement.
An unusual and intriguing cover image, for sure, but what does it allude to? For me, it calls the scary world of fairy tales and fables to mind, where, in the end, horrible fates await the wicked ones, while the good fare only slightly better, having to endure prolonged suffering to gain a morsel of happiness. In these tales, weasels are no nice characters. Clever and resourceful, they will get what they want while deceiving those who considered them their ally. Who are the real-life martens climbing real-life thrones? The fur colour of the animal does remind me of someone.
As mentioned in the beginning, a heavy melancholia hangs over the whole album, transfusing every note. It stems to a great part from the cello play of Jackie Perez Gratz, but also from the clean, musing voice of vocalist, lyricist and bassist Susie McMullen. However, that’s only one side of Marten. Because the calmer, more delicate sounds are juxtaposed with gut-churning bass lines and monstrous riffs. Combined, the quieter, more delicate, more sophisticated tones and the brute force create an excitingly diverse and unusual listening experience, leaning decidedly towards the weirder, darker side of things.
While Marten is the band’s third full-length, following Rooster (2017) and Rabbits (2019), it is the first album that includes Jackie Perez Gratz on cello and on vocals. A bold step for a doom metal band. The addition of a cellist has opened up a whole new sound universe for the band and has given their music a new quality. Yet, according to the press info, the band members seem to have always shared a love for duelling sounds. Guitarist Jamie McCathie from Bristol, England, and Susie McMullan from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, united in 2014 over a shared passion for both trip-hop and sludge and started making music together. The addition of Jordan Perkins-Lewis on drums completed the original line-up.
Of the albums eight tracks there are two that I like especially, and I would suggest for you to check them out if you don’t know the band and especially if you are planning on visiting this year’s Desertfest London where Brume will be playing. The first one is album opener Jimmy, about which Susie McMullen says that it was written “in the voice of an angry wife married to a middle-aged rock star who has emotionally retreated from fame, family and his former self”. The second track is How Rude, dedicated to Mother Earth, who gave us everything only to witness us ruining it all.
Starting out with a deeply sad, heavy-hearted cello passage, Jimmy slowly morphs from a lament into an angry, unrestrained, triumphant sound explosion that accompanies lyrics stating that “my wrath will not be well contained”. How Rude features guitarist Jamie McCathie on vocals who apparently decided to add a bit of sinisterness to the band’s sound via the song’s finale, and it sounds absolutely glorious.
Brume, says the press info, “are living proof that California is not all sunshine and easy living”. Pretty counter-cultural, I’d say, and we need more of that to prevent real-life martens from usurping the frightful throne.
(8/10 Slavica)
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