Review: Year of the Goat – The Unspeakable
Aug 09
Year of the Goat
The Unspeakable (doom/psych/folk; Napalm Records)
Released July 31st, 2015
If there’s one thing to be learned from the Age of Retro Rock/Metal, it’s that the whole affair is quite the double edged Sword (see what I did there?). On one hand, the modern bands practising in Ye Music Of Olde are resurrecting and celebrating a veritable buffet of sonic goodness (from ‘60s psych, to ‘70s folk and prog, to ‘80s garage rock) that might otherwise be left to the bottoms of basement vinyl shop bins. On the other hand, celebration and homage can so easily result in little more than stagnation and wallowing. There are certainly some noteworthy acts reaching back to the spirits of music’s yesteryear; Graveyard has done a fantastic job of performing soulful blues-rock that would find a comfortable home in the bar scene of 40 years ago, Kadavar have shown an uncanny knack in crafting folksy garage-rock fit for any outdoor festival in the same era, and recently, Night Flight Orchestra have made many a guilty listener with their cheesy but oh-so-good brand of Bee Gees/Journey hybrid throwback tracks. The difference between these groups and relative newcomers from Sweden, Year of the Goat, is that the formers can all-too-easily be described by the eras and even bands they channel, while the latter leaves the listener contemplating just whether or not they have any idea as to where the band is coming from. And that’s the beauty of the doom/blues/psych rock act’s newest release, The Unspeakable; the sound is teasingly familiar, but the approach and execution is altogether fresh, original, and damn good.
The mystique of Year of the Goat’s sophomore album is established from the first track, an atmosphere-drenched song called ‘All He Has Read’ that slowly builds from whispers and tribal-esque drums to a spirited doom-rock sound. The sonic pallette produced once the boys get going is a sinisterly pleasing one; the guitar tone has just the right amount of dirt to it without having its character washed away in overdrive, Fredrik Hellerström’s drums are lively and seem to have a life of their own without overshadowing anything else. The band also deserves extra credit for a tasteful use of mellotron throughout many tracks on the album because Opeth, practising a somewhat similar brand of ‘70s prog worship these days, shouldn’t have the market cornered on that beautiful piece of forgotten instrumentation. Perhaps the strongest element present on The Unspeakable is Thomas Sabbathi’s vocals; they’re delivered in a decidedly clean register, somewhere between wailing and moaning, though far more musical than either of those descriptors would suggest. Think of a bluesy King Diamond when he’s not shrieking or growling his lines, or better yet, a youthful Robert Smith if he were to take over as frontman for The Cult. Sabbathi sings his occult-inspired lyrics with a tortured soulfulness usually reserved for the most genuine of blues music; his voice is arguably more emotive than what one would hear in any other corner of hard rock and metal.
There are obvious thematic veins shared throughout the album’s nine tracks, but each one has an identity of its own. The overall feel of the record is unquestionably one of doom, the kind served as more rock than sludge, a la old stand-by’s Cathedral or more modern contemporaries like Crypt Sermon or Pallbearer, though YotG’s sound is notably more upbeat (as far as doom can be, at least). Songs like ‘Pillars of the South’ feel almost happy in an occult-rock sort of way and come off as carefree with wide-open choruses that sail clear and high above lively instrumentation. Others, like the infectiously good ‘Vermin’ have a soulful backbone that hearken to the transition period of rock between the ‘70s and ‘80s but with a sound clearly their own. Things do get noticeably more sombre towards the end with boggy doom rock numbers like ‘Riders of Vultures’, which has enough of a Delta vibe to image the guitar solo being plucked by Beelzebub himself in some southern swamp.
Simply put, The Unspeakable is doom done right; fresh, emotive, and celebratory of itself without dragging its message through an hour of marose muck and misery. The music swells through the sinister lows, enchanting the listener with a clean sound that is nonetheless foreboding, and soars through the highs with grandiosity and celebration, even if that celebration is of The Dark Lord Lucifer himself. Year of the Goat have done something special and exciting with their newest effort, and considering there is stronger cohesion and more focused songwriting here since the first record–itself a strong and worthwhile listen–it’s safe to say this a band to follow from across the spectrums of doom, psychedelia, and folk rock.
Conclusion: Listen to this record now, listen to it again later, and tell your friends to do the same.
