SKELETONS
Tombs
Self-released (2014)
Rating: 8/10
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I’m hoping that Merseyside’s Skeletons will get the recognition they deserve after this, their third full-length album. I’m not expecting something akin to Beatlemania but if you’re after a very strange mixture of death metal, thrash metal, doom and avantgarde, then you need to check this record out.
Skeletons are a weird bunch musically, because they’ve certainly found a niche and have moved on considerably since their inception in 2001 when they were churning out a more straightforward black metal noise.
Nowadays I can’t really categorise anything Skeletons do because they constantly flit between styles, hinting at catchy Black Sabbath-style grooves then moving onto black metal screeched, rasping vocals, and then favouring sludgy riffs which the next minute take on a brisk thrash metal vibe before rushing headlong into a gravelly hardcore stance.
I’m rather offended that Skeletons haven’t been snapped up by a label because they are so versatile that they should appeal to a wide range of fans, probably more so those into the doomier side of things.
Skeletons are fronted by Dominic Goulding who, or so it turns out, is the multi-instrumentalist behind every groove, nook, cranny and crevice of this 17-track trip into a world of engaging horror and convincing mish-mash of styles and sounds.
Lyrically, this is a fantastic record that hints at surreal horror yet believable eeriness, all wrapped up in a blanket of memorable riffs which refuse to lie stagnant. Instead, they meander in a grey haze providing a perfect soundtrack to some truly intriguing lyrics. Goulding speaks of “The haunting chill of the evening, Dead laughter echoes in waves, Pale children play in the courtyard, dancing round nameless graves” on ‘Pale Children’, while on the rumbling thrash of ‘Mantis’ he chokes “I am sex and I am death, Cannibal aphrodisiac” as the track decides to become a doom-laden narration before crossing into various waters of extremity.
‘Whiskey, Blood & Voodoo’, ‘The Dead Circus’, ‘Morgue Party’ and countless others all seem happy to apply a sprig of sludge, but remain so much more than that, as Goulding acts as the rather unnerving ringmaster to this deep, and multi-layered fairground where all the rides seem to be thinly coated with a layer of ash.
Rarely am I so bemused by a record, but Goulding has constructed a labyrinth of weirdness here that somehow plays out like an accessible maze that you at first feel comforted within only to become trapped in its barbed corridors of leering faces. This is a ghoulish record that is fidgety throughout; while at times the drifting between extreme styles may prove slightly uncomfortable, it sure as hell distances itself from those loveable mop-tops who shook the world back in the swingin’ 60s.
A record nigh on impossible to pin down, Tombs will drag you deep into its murky confines and never let go.
Neil Arnold
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