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RIDERS OF ROHAN
Riders Of Rohan

Crypt Of The Wizard (2022)
Rating: 9/10

Only Sweden can produce such a Gothic-sounding heap of fantasy clouded in gloomy fumes and authentically creaking in every bone.

Riders Of Rohan is a mysterious trio consisting of Tim (vocals and bass), Stickan (guitar and vocals) and Lisa (drums and vocals). This is their debut album which is blessed by the artwork of one Angus McBride and delivered with Tolkien-esque aplomb fused with traditional bluesy rock tinged with psychedelic nuances.

Of all the albums released so far this year, Riders Of Rohan’s 11 track platter takes me back to my youth of dabbling in Dungeons & Dragons and Fighting Fantasy glory, where after each dice roll one feared they would encounter fire-breathing dragons, heavy-breathing orcs and fiery wizards. This album provides a soundtrack to such joys as the waft of yellowing pages fills the nostrils and autumnal smoke rises from the tranquil shire.

Firstly, I want to introduce you to the guitar sound on this thing. It’s like Kiss meets Heavy Load drinking at the fountain of King Diamond while caressed by the murk of Black Widow and Coven, and it sounds real. The bass bubbles like a cauldron of varying spices, the drums hiss and thud like the gas pipes in the basement of my youth, and vocally there’s a strong 70s vibe as we drift towards some obscure cult occasionally blessed by Lisa’s dulcet tones.

The gloriously oaken opener ‘Muster The Rohirrim’ is a weird, punky new wave expression built on stark 70s aesthetics as Tim warbles like The B52’s and Dead Kennedys refused his services and so he signed up for a trip to Mordor. The track, like every other offered here, is beyond catchy; poppy, rocky, hints of the occult, fumes of the mythical, entrenched in times gone by where psych, folky flavours married with Black Sabbath-esque grooves which can only be matched by the equally peculiar vapours of Iron Griffin.

‘A Night At The Prancing pony’ showcases Lisa’s percussive talents, the band drinking ale at some stuffy inn before jamming up an unorthodox steamy rock affair brisk with Diamond Head-cum-Greenslade imagery and Cirith Ungol suspense.

That’s where we are at, Riders Of Rohan galloping on the scene amidst the dark wave of Tolkien’s black riders only to stoke our fires with The Way Of Wyrd-type tales; haunting, sturdy, unpredictable, at times warbling yet organic and fiery. For instance, how does one deliver the joy of ‘Nan Curunir’ with its utterly cool groove and bewitching lyrics? How does ‘A Land Of Our Own’ billow with a mid-80s Euro-doom in such authentic fashion? From the trickling folk horror of ‘Black Rider’, where Lisa comes to the fore by the fireside of spectres, to the struttin’ ‘Strider’ with its stark percussive bashes and Kiss gallop. But how can one overlook the fizzing doom of ‘Whispers Of A Nameless Fear’ where the vocals take on a truly sinister turn, and yet ‘Longbeards’ with effective bass dribble, is mere trippy interlude of punkiness flirting with a possessed Blondie.

There’s just so much going on here. As each page is flipped, more and more daring images leer out at you, and time and time again I’m taken back to my childhood where heavy metal and Tolkien-esque fantasy infiltrated my innocent layers.

Often barmy, yet authentically rewarding, Riders Of Rohan mesmerize with a timeless shuffle and antiquarian swagger. As a trio they come fully cloaked, even if unsure as to whether to join Bilbo Baggins or the fires of Mordor, and their wondrously atmospheric rambles epitomise this. Whatever side you take, be sure to have the Riders Of Rohan as your soundtrack for battle.

Neil Arnold

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