A quick glance around reveals just how far this modern obsession for
all-things retrospective has come. From the re-emergence of the flared
trouser or a penchant for all things eyeball-meltingly fluorescent to
our longing for the foods we grew up with or the analogue sounds that so
inspired our forebears.
Throwing in their two penn’orth, the suitably-monikered Spirits Of
The Dead have gone for the latter and have set about exploring their own
heroes’ musical echoes. This latest album of theirs has emerged laden
with strong psychedelic and lush folk elements. It reeks of all things
Floydian and Zeppelian. Its propulsive drive wraps itself around the
subjects of death and the sea, drowning us in an incandescent tapestry
of lyrics. But does it stand out from the sudden crowd of like-minded
groups that has formed, all of them seemingly staring over their
shoulders?
Having preciously dipped my toes in the melting pot of their 2008
self-titled debut and emerged with my pinkies dripping of King Crimson,
Dead Meadow and Black Sabbath goo, I can assure you that they haven’t
watered down their music any. Whilst this may start with the sun in its
eyes, it quickly finds some shadows in which to lurk. In fact, the
deeper you venture, the more inventive and impressive their music
becomes. Naturally, everything within is enveloped in a warm, fuzzball
production, like it’s been wrapped in cellophane and kept near the
radiator for several decades.
Openers “Wheels Of The World” and the more expansive “Song Of Many
Reefs” offer up big, meaty mouthfuls of 70s folk rock that echo the
silken, pulsating rhythms of goliaths like Fleetwood Mac, Zeppelin and
Emerson Lake and Palmer. A step back and “Golden Sun” hones the
nostalgic vibe, removing the harsh, top-end chime of the guitars to
leave a tone that glows with gentle proggy touches. The thick, spongy
bass within provides the finishing touch – a comforting, warped groove
to bolster the craftily-hooked chorus.
They haven’t fully shaken off their inability to keep the music
flowing throughout. The staggered drop-off into the album’s mid-riff is a
little off-putting leaving the listener struggling to connect the dots
and continue their journey. “Dance Of The Dead”, a seemingly unfinished
one-riff lope, spends its woefully-brief minute-and-a-half simply rising
and falling like a ship lost at sea, and “Rumours Of New Presence”
chaotically splits its focus, frogmarching us from a spacey,
Hammond-dominated number into a dark, panic-stricken Sabbathian march.
Thankfully, the final trio of the “Red Death”, “Seaweed” and
“Oceanus” are all tracks worth hanging in there for. The former is full
of menace and obeyance to the forefathers of doom, with vocalist Ragner
Viske giving it the full stoner growl and Ole Øvstedal’s chords shaking
the ground like falling rocks, whilst the latter couplet tout an
acoustic hush and a psychedelic vocal warble that thrust the soft tones
of America’s “A Horse With No Name” at the majesty of early-Tull to
really drive home their more folky leanings.
So, yes, it’s an album that may not be faultless, but quibbling over
such small things seems a little petty when you consider the quality of
the remainder. Spirits Of The Dead aren’t just copying their idols here,
like retro giants Graveyard and Witchcraft they are paying them the
greatest tribute by reinventing these quadrageneric artistic touches to
fit a thoroughly modern template.
Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/11/spirits-of-the-dead-rumours-of-a-presence-the-end/
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