EPICUS DOOMICUS INTROICUS
Doom is a unique faction of metal. It’s been around since day one, thanks to Iommi & crew, but most all of its subsequent off-shoots have remained mostly neglected when compared to the extensive coverage the more brutal side of the game has received over the years.
Doom is also a solitary individual’s genre. The INFP of heavy metal, if you will. Exceedingly inward, emotional, measured, and ultimately righteous, despite a willingness to embrace darkness. Not really something to crank at a wild can-crusher of a party, but ideal for those who need a steady soundtrack for intense introspection and isolated daydreaming.
The epic doom side of the fence – the brand blue-printed by Sweden’s sovereigns Candlemass and subsequently complemented by the likes of Solitude Aeturnus, Sorcerer, Solstice and While Heaven Wept – is really no different. The heavier infusion of more power/trad elements and its emphasis on fantastical elements gives it a little more of a social aspect, but it’s still a beast that’s long grown used to being mostly ignored by the greater public. The closest we’ve come in a healthy stretch of years to having an “epic doom explosion” resulting in front page headlines happened around ten years ago, built on the backs of both Candlemass and Solitude Aeturnus mounting triumphant comebacks.
Today, epic doom remains reasonably active, but fans still have to dig pretty deep and often pay import prices in order to unearth new releases. Bands such as England’s Age of Taurus that land (somewhat) major label attention are very few and far between, which is part of what makes Philadelphia’s Crypt Sermon and their Dark Descent debut pretty special.
Okay, so perhaps referring to Dark Descent Records as even a moderately major label might seem like a stretch for those who don’t often dabble in metal’s more extreme parties. But there’s no question that D.D. has become one of the underground’s more steady peddlers of dreadful heavy metal. Dreadful in a good way, of course. But epic doom? On a label that’s made a name for itself hawking mostly gruesome death metal? I suppose it isn’t such a huge stretch, considering they’ve dealt both records from Sweden’s doomy but far less epic Anguish. The label is simply widening their nets. And they’re clearly continuing their habit of plucking mostly from metal’s upper crust, because Out of the Garden is definitely something worthy of celebrating.
INTO THE GARDEN
Apart from it simply being a smartly crafted, thorough and timely debut of epic doom, a few other notable elements rise to the top as significant windfalls. First and foremost, the record preserves that wonderful rawness of the riff that classic prototype records such as Epicus Doomicus and Into the Depths of Sorrow delivered in spades decades ago. Each of the seven tunes boast some moment where a beautifully headbangable riff break-out crushes through the speakers. Proof lands quickly: The 4-minute mark of opener “Temple Doors,” or 3:30 into its follow-up, the brassy bruiser “Heavy Riders.” Head, get thee to a bangery.
That same rawness also works wonderfully amidst the gruff ’n’ gravelly approach to the record’s vocals. One-time bassist/vocalist Brooks Wilson dropped the four-stringing duty in favor of concentrating fully on his voice, and his work has paid off. He has more of what one might refer to as a “blue collar” approach to clean singing: Gritty, robust and much less operatic compared to a Messiah or Lowe, but it works really well alongside Crypt Sermon’s strong lean on rootsy traditional metal.
Second, the leads throughout Out of the Garden are indispensable. They’re not overly pervasive or unnecessarily noodly, and they’re flawlessly blended amidst the album’s collective slogging gallop, adding the perfect amount of melodic fire and hook. Each cut throws at least one lovable fret-bolt from the clouds, but the amazing “Into the Holy of Holies” is a thunderstorm replete with flashes, which brings us to supplementary advantage number three.
“Into the Holy of Holies” is a monster – this record’s “Under the Oak.” Galloping, brilliantly melodic, impassioned, and with the album’s most sweeping, contagious chorus. Worth the price of admission alone, likely, but followed closely by the beautifully tragic, slow hammer-swing of the also stellar “Byzantium.”
There’s really not a lot to bitch about here. Put a crossbow bolt to my head and I’d confirm that the title track ends the album on a relatively quiet note. Not literally, mind you – the tune is still heavy – but more in that a fairly clunky repeated chorus keeps it from attaining the same epic grade as its predecessors. But even here, the mid-point is strong, and the leads still rip enough to give you enough to hold on to, so not too much harm is done; even Nightfall has “Mourner’s Lament.”
Epic doom will likely never be the apple of heavy metal’s eye. It’s too slow, too stubbornly rooted to the past, too… cleanly sung. And it’s fickle, too. Bands like Candlemass, Solitude Aeturnus and Solstice have never been all that stable, so fans often exercise a dizzying amount of perseverance when it comes to waiting for their next bender. That’s precisely the sort of thing that makes a release like Out of the Garden so timely. It’s been two years since Procession’s To Reap Heavens Apart. Two years since Solstice’s Death’s Crown is Victory. Two years since Atlantean Kodex‘s The White Goddess. We have been very patient in our lingering and hoping to feel yet another epic doom haymaker to the jaw, and with Crypt Sermon’s towering debut, that lull has finally come to an end.
Get fucking epic.
