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THROES OF IRE
Funeral For A Witch
Self-released (2014)
Rating: 7/10

Hailing from Idaho, this American duo have churned out hypnotic doom metal for a couple of years now, resulting in their 2013 debut Aberration Of Hate. Said album was a real murky and sinister affair that played out like some suggestive horror movie never quite willing to reveal its true terror, but remaining so frightful in its hints.

Both multi-instrumentalist Jason McMurtrey (who formed the band in 2009) and vocalist James Foster Jr. seem to revel in telling dark tales of murder and legend, spun around a crackling campfire of guttural, slow-motion vocals, pensive drums, plodding bass, and guitars that exist as a creeping whisper.

Foster has a real phlegm-ridden gurgle about his presence; he barks his way through the three tracks on offer, adding further quality to this mesmerising opus steeped in lore and mystery.

The record runs for over 40 minutes but only contains a trio of tracks, the longest being closer ‘Solitary Morning’ which clocks in at an impressive 20 minutes! However, it’s opener ‘Kursed’ which sets its stall out; a lumbering, ominous and brooding tiptoe of a tune, for the most part ‘Kursed’ builds like a horror film soundtrack comprised of occasional drum nods and Foster’s imposing vocal cough.

The 12-minute ‘Where Darkness Divides’ continues the theme of aching doom metal and oaken, esoteric values, hinting at My Dying Bride for creaking bewilderment and ancient foreboding. The tracks are clearly well-orchestrated and not merely reliant on the sombre to create their atmosphere, but Throes Of Ire do have a haunting melancholy about them which evokes images of creaking old oak beams and Lovecraftian horrors just lurking in the shadows.

Instead of draining the listener, the monstrous ‘Solitary Morning’ draws them in, suffocating them with its forbidden knowledge as the guitars hint at menace and the drums worm their way through the blackness like a flickering candle afraid of the gales.

It’s always nice to hear a doom metal band not dependent on Black Sabbath mimicry or fuzzed out and stoned nostalgia, and Throes Of Ire are the sort of band who should appeal to those who have the patience to sit through lengthy compositions of utmost dread.

As with many bands of this ilk, attempting to describe their prolonged work is nigh on impossible due to the depth and threatening pace. While Throes Of Ire may lack the overall quality of My Dying Bride, they certainly make up for it with the eerie disturbances.

Neil Arnold

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