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BESTIALORD
Law Of The Burning

Symbol Of Domination / Cimmerian Shade Recordings (2018)
Rating: 8/10

Ah, the joyous creaks and aches of doom metal. Only this time those mournful moans come from Wichita, Kansas-based Bestialord; a trio who formed only two years ago. So, let’s say hello then to former Manilla Road bassist Mark Anderson (vocals and guitar), Rob Harris (bass) and Chris Johnson (drums).

We’re welcomed by some cool artwork depicting a hooded soul roaming an eerie cemetery and armed with book, seemingly conjuring up all manner of denizens under a creepy sky. And thankfully the music on offer provides a great soundtrack to the art as the band lunges into a sinister plod of utmost horror.

But this isn’t traditional doom metal, far from it in fact. Bestialord conjure up a frightful plod of a sound given an extra dash of evil coating by Anderson’s rather rough sneers. The music behind him is as pitch as midnight, as the band prowls its way through some rather simplistic but most certainly engaging doomy designs that flirt with death and black metal nuances to create an atmospheric soundscape of impending gloom.

Opener ‘The Doom That Came’ marches like an eerie funeral procession; a standard stormy chug leads us into a faster segment of dread before Anderson’s murky yelps begin their grim narration. It’s excellent stuff, played with true antiquarian style and dripping in horror – imagine one tip-toeing through some vast array of dusty catacombs unknowingly pursued by some hidden terror. Damn, I can smell the mustiness of it all as the skies rings out with thunder – or maybe that’s just the bellowing grotesquery provided by Johnson’s oaken drums? Leads fizz about the place like snaking ivy reaching for the ankles, but again the pace quickens like a horror score about to reach terror point.

However, it’s with ‘Vermin’ – my favourite track – that Bestialord really comes into its own. Again, we have that suspenseful trudge, and all sorts of Gothic images are evoked as the drums simmer and then the riffs come chugging in, with Anderson’s growls taking us down into the underworld beneath the graveyard; a place where Harris’ bass trembles and the echoes of lost, trapped souls ring out to give extra chill to the singer’s call. “Die! Vermin!” bellows Anderson; his gravelly tones reeking of earth as his guitar tones bounce of the coffin walls and reverberate.

In a perfect world of misery, Bestialord somehow play as the younger sister to Eric Wagner’s The Skull and Blackfinger. But believe me, you probably won’t find a better doom metal record this year other than Druid Lord’s mossy death / doom outburst Grotesque Offerings. And it’s those vocals and downright chilling structures which set this record apart. The faster tempo of ‘All Fall Down’ brings with it a swirling solo amidst the suffocating darkness and a general accessible groove mesmerising enough to entice you into the grave. And yet while I continue to use the doom metal tag, you’ll find that as the album flows you’ll find yourself looking to categorise the opus by other means; the blackened riffs, the snarling vocals just aren’t your standard doom metal ingredients.

The title track hints at a thrashiness before yawning like some gargantuan beast, bringing together a Bathory sort of eeriness coupled with Candlemass, only unlike neither. Meanwhile, ‘I Am Pain’ sees Anderson take on the role of chief cenobite as he welcomes us to Hell, and has such sights to show us as the drums and bass rattle like the very chains cast around your neck.

‘Above The Vaulted Sky’ aches of 80s Gothicness; a truly lo-fi plodder that speaks of the “Countess in red, amidst adoring eyes. Mistress of death, walking the graves by night”. It doesn’t get much more atmospheric than this shuffling marauder; an eerie visitation to midnight black mass if ever there was one as Anderson paints grisly images of all manner of horrors.

And as the bell chimes to bring in closing track ‘What Is The End’, I can only sell my soul to this cult of doom; rendered insane and terrified am I by this trudging yet fruitful work of terror.

Neil Arnold

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