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IN GRIEF
An Eternity Of Misery

Iron Bonehead Productions (2022)
Rating: 8/10

Creaking like a heavyweight coffin lid finally disturbed after centuries of dormancy, An Eternity Of Misery harkens back to the rainy days of the UK Peaceville label when bands such as Paradise Lost, My Dying Bride and Anathema were sprouting from the sodden soil. Daubed in Gothic atmosphere, yet aching as much as it groans, this debut-full length is also sure to appeal to fans of Katatonia and Tiamat.

In Grief is an Italian band which first announced itself to the world with the 2020 EP Echoes Of Doom. There’s no denying that for its 54 minute duration An Eternity Of Misery does play out a lot like a My Dying Bride opus. The strings, the oozing darkness of the guitars and the general haunting feel beneath the cloak of blackness, it’s all here and rounded off by deep, despairing vocal bellows.

This ten-track slab is a thing of well-constructed beauty; at times stark, but often evocative and dense. The fact that many songs are long doesn’t necessarily smother the listener, but instead provides an oaken, earthen slog of atmospheric solos which pierce the clogged veil.

Throughout, there’s that early 90s feel with well-soiled and damp expressions as the likes of ‘Beyond The Dark Veil’ and ‘Ярна’ sluggishly parade yet, as with the latter, drift into death metal aesthetics too. ‘Demons’ has progressive elements to its stark, trickling menace, but as with the rest of the album you never get an overwhelming feeling of dread. Instead, In Grief create vast tapestries of cascading loneliness more akin to sweeping moors across an ancient moor, as showcased on the tense yet expansive ‘Close To Insanity’.

There is a quintessentially British death / doom feel to this platter, as if the stench of dirty rain has coated ears, nose and throat with stormy soot, yet all accompanied by a soundtrack hopelessness and despondency. Pace rarely picks up on this behemoth, but In Grief revels in its arduous discharge to the point of being happy to bathe in its own quagmire.

This is tearful, melancholic doom that tugs on the heart strings while with its other, slightly more clawed hand attempts to push you under the muddy surface of its bogginess.

Neil Arnold

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