I never realized the sheer volume of crap metal bloggists are forced to swim through in order to find something good. Every single day, half a dozen bands send us turrible emails with links to turrible websites with turrible music. It’s enough to make Charles Barkley say, “That’s turrible.” Occasionally, though, we’ll get something really rad. Today I’m highlighting the brand new EP from a brand new band with a few familiar faces. Let’s talk sludge with God Root.
Do you remember Sadgiqacea? Back in 2013, the band dropped a psychadelic sludge album that was hailed by metal gatekeepers like Grim Kim as the next big thing in doom. With music written by Evan Void of my beloved Hivelords (who dropped one hell of an album that, although it didn’t make my year-end shortlist, was more than good enough for me to rant and rave about it on two separate occasions) and produced by Colin Marston, False Prism was an atom bomb of downtuned weirdness. But then Sadgiqacea drifted into the shadows of memory and history.
As fate would have it, Sadgiqacea’s drummer/vocalist Fred Grabosky was not content to fade into obscurity, so in winter of last year he began recruiting like-minded musicians to help him rechannel that Sadgiqacea ethos into something new. Something primal. Something elusive and mysterious and possessed of frightful strength. God Root is the end result of that campaign.
2016, unbelievably, has already seen a surprising number of fantastic EPs. It isn’t even February and already Krallice, Agoraphobic Nosebleed, and Writhe have hit us with reminders that the extended play still reigns. Now you can add God Root’s self-titled EP to that list. Rounding out Grabosky’s spiritual vocals and tribal drumming are Ross Bradley on bass/vocals, Keith Riecke on rhythm guitar, Joe Hughes on lead guitar/vocals, and Jordan Stiff on noise/soundscapes. As you may have surmised, Stiff’s presence indicates a more atmospheric direction for God Root’s sound. Grabosky’s seething, swirling drums anchor a shamanic approach to song construction and delivery. Though there be downtuned riffs aplenty, the emphasis is placed on texture and feel, with all three vocalists often chanting as a backing layer to the dense wall of bottom-end rumble and miasmic sound. Listening to any of the three long tracks on this EP feels like stumbling upon a dreadful and secret pagan ritual deep in the heart of the wood primeval. Fans of Neurosis/Tribes of Neurot, The Lion’s Daughter, and Tomahawk‘s Anonymous album take note. You’ve just found your new spiritual experience.