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WOLFTOOTH
Wolftooth

Self-released (2018)
Rating: 7/10

A good slice of album cover art conceals what is essentially another “stoner” record from a band that hails from Indiana. This self-titled full-length opus brings a nice, smooth rumble of a sound best described as somewhere between the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal, Black Sabbath and, say, The Sword.

Where I may be keen to criticize what has become an all too sickening trend, Wolftooth’s debut actually makes for a rather comfortable, stress-free listen. Maybe it’s the almost earthy feel of proceedings, as the combo bring together an almost early Ozzy Osbourne style of mesmeric quality mixed with the rustier strains of Angel Witch.

Nope, it’s not doom metal, but there is that Gothic air – particularly with opener ‘Blackbird’s Call’ which drifts along at a nice pace and presents us with an Ozzy-styled lazy groan vocally, courtesy of guitarist Chris Sullivan, amidst that juddering riffage.

But whereas some stoner rock seems forced or all too occult obsessed, Wolftooth’s album is so laid back that one can’t help but become drugged by its presence. The dual guitar adds extra thickness to the likes of ‘Aegaeon’; a rather hypnotic psych-rock journey through cascading drums and Sullivan’s soaring tones.

‘White Mountain’ continues that almost ethereal theme; a wondrous haze of a tune built upon a buzzing Sabbath drone. It’s the sort of track that wouldn’t seem out of place on some late 60s psych-rock festival bill. However, the faster segments which roll out of the smog are very welcome, especially on the galloping thunder that is ‘Frost Lord’.

My main issue with this record, however, is that Sullivan’s vocals seem swallowed in the mix. Or maybe he just doesn’t cut the mustard when it comes to making his presence felt? For me, I want to hear a vocalist make a statement within a genre that is becoming all too crammed with similar-sounding bands. So while Sullivan’s voice seems to soar at times, in other moments it offers so little to the track as the rest of the band seem to march on without him.

‘The Huntress’ is another good slab of retro-rock. Again, there’s that energetic gallop to mark its entrance as the chords whine, but not with sorrow, before the combo lunges into a jabbing prod.

For me, the album’s highlight is the bluesy ‘Season Of The Witch’, and it’s here that Sullivan comes into his own; his almost no frills and slightly mournful wail threads nicely through those chugging riffs and that nodding drum jab. But I still think it’s a song that would have benefitted from a more convincing vocal sneer. Sullivan just seems bereft of any other emotion, and that’s a shame because Wolftooth are a good band with some real potential.

That’s summed up by the murky traits of closer ‘Forged In Fire’ with its dark, foreboding intro created by Johnny Harrod’s killer drum tirade. Again though, Sullivan has no commanding presence, and as the outfit lumbers into another big Sabbath-esque groove I’m almost left crying out for some extra conviction in that vocal – instead we get a rather watery yowl. Maybe it’s just me and my issues with the stoner rock generation?

Wolftooth do show signs of being a behemoth of a band, but something is clearly missing from their framework. That being said, it’s still a record that should appeal to the black masses.

Neil Arnold

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