Bell Witch/Aerial Ruin is a collaboration between two
projects rooted in slow, introspective doom and dark folk. Bell Witch, formed in the US, is known for
extended compositions and a minimal core lineup, while Aerial
Ruin is the solo work of Erik Moggridge,
centered on voice, guitar, and myth focused songwriting. Together, they
continue the Stygian Bough project as a
separate entity, not a side note to either name, but a shared space shaped by
long form writing and thematic focus.
“Stygian Bough: Vol
II” takes its conceptual frame from James Frazer’s
“The Golden Bough”, especially the ideas of contact and similarity as invisible
forces that bind people, objects, and beliefs. The album treats music as a
channel for these connections, not as storytelling in a linear sense, but as a
slow unfolding of symbols, memory, worship, and awe. The collaboration presents
itself as its own organism, sharing DNA with Bell
Witch and Aerial Ruin while existing
apart from their usual paths.
Across its length, the
album explores how reverence can elevate, consume, and erase, depending on the
scale through which it is viewed. There is a constant shift between the
intimate and the vast, between personal devotion and abstract forces that dwarf
human perspective. Moggridge’s vocals act as
a narrative guide without turning the material into a conventional song cycle,
while the rhythmic foundation keeps the music grounded and deliberate, allowing
ideas to circle and transform.
The writing leans into
gradual development and recurring motifs, which gives the album a meditative
character without drifting into background music. The interaction between bass,
drums, and guitar forms a dialogue that expands and contracts, reinforcing the
album’s focus on cycles and reflection. Production choices favor space and
clarity, allowing the material to unfold patiently and maintain its gravity
throughout.
“Stygian Bough: Vol
II” stands as a focused continuation of this collaboration, expanding its
mythic and philosophical concerns with restraint and coherence. It asks for
time and attention, rewarding listeners who engage with its pacing and themes
rather than surface impact. As a whole, the album presents a unified vision
that fits naturally within the broader arc of the Stygian
Bough project.
Bell Witch started in Seattle more than a
decade ago with their stripped down, slow moving funeral doom approach that
leans heavily on atmosphere, extended passages and emotional weight. Aerial Ruin, the project of Erik Moggridge, has always carried a more intimate
dark folk identity with a voice that reaches deep into old world sorrow. When
these forces meet, the result is a hybrid that steps away from the typical path
of either group, creating something that works on a different wavelength than
their individual sound. “Stygian Bough: Vol. 2” arrives as the second chapter
of this collaboration and continues expanding this shared territory.
The album
examines a world shaped by worship, awe and the strange ways belief can empower
or consume. Moggridge speaks openly about
these themes and the album mirrors that fascination. The four long tracks build
a narrative where human fascination with the unknown twists through myth,
legend and personal revelation. It is not simply doom stretched into long
forms, it is more like the slow unraveling of wandering thoughts that merge,
drift and circle back to the same spot with a slightly different light.
The sound
here is heavy in spirit and patient in structure. Bell
Witch brings their massive low end and tidal pacing, while Aerial Ruin adds harmonic colors that soften one
moment and ghost through the next. The combination moves with a calm
confidence. Nothing‘s rushed, everything arrives with measured steps. Recorded
once again with Billy Anderson, the album
has a natural depth, like a candlelit room where shadows move but you cannot
tell if they shift because of the flame or because something unseen crosses
behind you.
The
collaboration leans strongly into storytelling. Lines about rapture, confusion
and shifting scales create a constant sense of searching. Moggridge’s voice often lands like an oracle
speaking from a distant shore. Desmond’s
bass lifts whole sections into long resonant waves. Shreibman’s
drums bring impact, rising suddenly from near silence into rolling surges that
guide entire passages forward.
Across the
hour the album opens and contracts repeatedly. Calm sections grow into towering
climaxes, then collapse into gloom again. The influence of dark folk slips
gently into the heavier doom foundation, creating a hypnotic blend that moves
between the contemplative and the crushing. There are moments where the trio
almost touches on the drifting space of old electronic pioneers, moments where
the harmony evokes ancient folk storytelling and moments where funeral doom
takes full control. Despite the shifting states, the album stays unified in
tone, carrying its thematic weight from beginning to end.
“Stygian
Bough: Vol. 2” stands as a thoughtful continuation of this partnership. It
draws from myth and anthropology without turning academic, using those ideas as
sparks that light the music from within. Denis
Forkas’s cover art fits perfectly. The painting looks like something
excavated from a lost shrine, mysterious and solemn, exactly the kind of image
that pulls you deeper into the album’s world.
This
release builds trust and guides the listener through an hour of patient doom,
spectral folk and heavy introspection. As a whole it succeeds, even if it stays
grounded. It earns its place as a worthy successor to the first volume and
suggests that this collaboration still has more corners left to explore.
Evoken has long stood
as one of the most defining names in American funeral doom metal, carrying a
reputation for turning despair into slow-moving grandeur. Since the early 90s,
the New Jersey band has shaped the genre’s darker edge, fusing the crushing
weight of death metal with a suffocating sense of grief. Albums like “Quietus”
and “Antithesis Of Light” cemented their legacy as a band that doesn’t just
write heavy music, but creates environments of decay and contemplation.
“Mendacium,” their seventh full-length, continues that lineage with a more
oppressive and cavernous sound, presented via Profound
Lore Records.
The album unfolds like
a ritual inside a forgotten monastery. There’s an immediate sense of age and
confinement, as if the songs were echoing through the stone halls of some
abandoned sanctuary. The atmosphere is thick, unhurried, and purposefully
suffocating. Evoken works with patience,
allowing sorrow to grow until it becomes physical. Every chord hangs like a
tolling bell, every growl resounds like a prayer from the void. The tracks’
structure is simple on the surface, but the weight of their layering and the
slow harmonic movement make them sound massive and desolate.
Compared to
“Hypnagogia,” “Mendacium” steps away from melancholy and turns toward spiritual
decay. The sound is rawer, darker, and more ritualistic, less about mourning
and more about damnation. The vocals emerge from the depths, distant but
commanding, while the guitars move like waves of stone, occasionally breaking
into melodic fragments that vanish before they can bring light. There’s a quiet
experimentation in the background, some gothic undertones, a few atmospheric
passages, that enrich the gloom without softening it.
Conceptually, the album
takes place within the fevered mind of a dying Benedictine monk haunted by
visions, faith, and something inhuman lurking behind the veil. That premise
gives the album a sense of narrative tension, even without the need for lyrical
clarity. The pacing, transitions, and soundscapes follow that descent, from the
early ritual chants to the final surrender.
“Mendacium” is not the
most devastating or elegant work Evoken has
made, but it radiates the grim identity that has always defined them. It’s an
album meant to be absorbed, an hour-long meditation on decay, faith, and the
horror of introspection. The production by Ron
“Bumblefoot” Thal ensures that every layer is heavy and suffused with
atmosphere, giving the album its catacombic depth.
Evoken don’t aim for urgency here. “Mendacium” is dense,
ritualistic, demanding time and immersion. It doesn’t strike immediately but
leaves a residue of gloom that lingers long after the final echo fades. For
longtime followers of funeral doom’s most devoted craftsmen, it’s a strong
return to the abyss, faithful to their art and spirit.
Score: 7.0
"Religion is
regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by rulers as
useful" – Seneca
Portland, Oregon’s Tithe has been
carving a relentless path through extreme music since their formation, blending
ominous atmospheres with grinding death metal precision. The trio of Matt Eiseman (vocals, guitar), Alex Huddleston (vocals, bass), and Kevin Swartz (drums) has steadily expanded their
sound, delivering music that grips and unsettles in equal measure. Their third
album, “Communion In Anguish”, continues this journey with a focused, punishing
approach.
“Communion In Anguish” is a concentrated dose
of tension and aggression. Tithe channels
layers of dissonance into a tightly wound death metal framework, where Eiseman’s anguished wails and Huddleston’s guttural lows collide over Swartz’s relentless drumming. The album maintains
a gripping intensity across its 35 minutes, moving between moments of
suffocating heaviness and bursts of kinetic energy without losing focus.
The album is cohesive,
with each element contributing to a larger, immersive soundscape. Songs like “At
The Altar Of Starving Children” and “Shallow Grave Of Karmic Retribution”
demonstrate a precise understanding of how to balance raw aggression with
atmospheric tension, and the production by Keith
Merrow captures the trio’s dynamics with clarity and punch.
Tithe’s approach to death metal here is uncompromising. The
vocal interplay, the layered guitar work, and the rhythmic drive all push the
listener through a dark, immersive journey, creating a sense of urgency and
unease that sticks long after the album ends. This is music built to confront
and consume the listener, with no shortcuts or filler, just focused, punishing
sound.
