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POSSESSOR
Dead By Dawn

Self-released (2016)
Rating: 8/10

Like bats from the belfry, British occult weirdos Possessor come all a fluttering before All Hallows Eve is upon us. Neither sludge, nor doom, nor stoner, this esoteric posse has other things on its mind with second full-length release Dead By Dawn.

The casket opens and we get a fuzzy sort of Black Sabbath gallop; the strings of Graham Bywater’s guitar are clearly coated in cobwebs as the trio lurches into a strange brew of cosmic doom laced with fizzing vocal techniques, hinting at Malhavoc and other industrial odd-bods.

‘Afterburner’ is a straight-down-the-line chug fest; almost Uncle Acid but not really – soaked in Hammer Horror creepiness – there’s always that air of familiarity with such acts as Bywater barks “Slasher. Destroyer”. However, things take on a more volatile, pacier turn with ‘Scorpion Swamp’ with some killer melody as Bywater belts out, “Now things are getting worse, bring out the shining knife, you take the easy way out. The smoke clouds choke the sun, too late to change their minds, before it swallows you whole”. Riff-wise though, it’s still that same, simplistic hyper-doom cosmic roll consisting of Matthew Radford’s energetic drum slaps and Marc Bereton’s plundering bass.

Possessor has that certain rustic, folkloric charm that only British bands can seem to muster up – maybe it’s something in the water that drives such individuals to churn out such bleak, black and esoteric designs – and none come sludgier than ‘Beneath The Chapel’ with its dense guitar / bass combo and hammering drum. “Beneath the chapel lies hell” barks Bywater, and I totally believe him as again the posse picks up pace. The trio keep a natural psyched-out rhythm, even by the time the trundling ‘Without Warning’ comes galloping in with its garage-y plunder.

‘Slaughter High’ slows the pace again, opting for more sinister rites and injecting a killer solo before the chaotic menace of ‘Terror Tripping’ comes crashing down the stairs like a drunken Michael Myers. Very much crash, bang and wallop, ‘Terror Tripping’ still has a certain raw charm, and it’s this type of doomy yet often rolling, fuzzed up groove which should separate these guys from numerous other bands on the current occult rock trip.

We’re then treated to two instrumentals – the short but spooky ‘The Creeps’ and the longer ‘Midnight’ – before we close off proceedings with the brilliantly titled ‘The Curse Of The Hearse’; a smorgasbord of ghosts, ghouls vampire bats and lycanthropy amidst a tirade of hurtling bass, suffocating guitar trudge and drum tumbles.

If you like stuff like Uncle Acid but with more tempo, terror and rain then give these guys a look up on your Ouija board.

Neil Arnold

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