“Sisters, we’ve waited a hundred years for this.“
The timing of Cwfen’s coven-doom debut couldn’t be more opportune for the heavy underground. There’s been renewed success for bands bringing occult themes into heavy music, demonstrated by the attention Green Lung, Messa and Blood Ceremony have accrued. Coupled with a proliferation of goth-crossover aesthetics (gothover, if you will) from the likes of Zetra, Unto Others and King Woman, there’s demonstrable appetite for an album like Sorrows. And that’s not to mention the importance and power of despondent rock in unsteady times.
Besides their alluring aesthetics and genre melding, the other common thread shared by most of the aforementioned bands is a straightforward approach at the core of their music. Spin a random song and, most likely, you’ll land on something with an accessible pop structure, restrained instrumentals, and a banger of a chorus. Cwfen pull this familiar rabbit from the hat on Sorrows, with each of its songs locking into just a couple of very well executed ideas. The end result is a record full of strong tracks that should find broad appeal across several scenes and shores.
The mix of genres at play are naturally served by the voice of frontwoman Agnes Alder. On the lead singles “Reliks” and “Wolfsbane” her vocals become our enchantress, at times singing deeply, or perhaps as her own choir, carrying the authority of the ages (“The men have had a thousand years to make us quiet wives / Tonight, I’ll be the king”). Elsewhere, she sends her voice up to the heavens, rising towards screams at the close of “Reliks” (“A soul / Cries out / In death / As in life”). “Embers” features a similarly jaw-dropping rise where she smoothly climbs in intensity from her lower to upper limit, then layers both in dizzying unison. The rest of the band stick close to the mission with tidy performances; not a single lead guitar line or drum feel feels overplayed.
Besides these strong singles, other fantastic tracks include “Penance” where Adler delivers her vocals in extremes. She’s raspy and harsh in the verses, yet distant and fading on the choruses, all the while the instrumentals are extremely gratifying. Each of the songs takes a long time to reach their conclusion, but it’s always worthwhile, especially on “Whispers”, “Embers” and the record’s finale “Rite”. Only the opener “Bodies” outstays its welcome – especially when weighed against the rest of the record, it feels one or two ideas short of justifying being a near-seven minute opener. The record’s pace is improved by the spacious introductions to many songs and the trio of “Fragment” interludes. These fragments are short auditory curios which won’t have much value beyond the album’s sit-through experience, which is a slightly missed opportunity, but they remain a key part of Sorrows‘ disquiet.
Sorrows’ production is ideal for landing its songs and atmosphere. As if playing at the back of an uncannily shaped chapel, the band don’t get lost within their reverb, standing astride it and letting the high-end get a little crispy as a result. The bass rises up in the quiet moments with warmth, and the lead guitars access a coveted sound that harkens back to the 80s. The heavier moments edge towards ‘sludge’, reminiscent of Thou, and although some discussion of the band has them in the ‘gaze’ category, the recording chooses restraint and keeps them grounded (perhaps their live performances emphasise a more wall-of-sound approach). Like the debuts from Windhand and Pallbearer, one can imagine fans of Cwfen might yearn for Sorrows’ production style as their sound evolves with time.
Those who turn their ear towards emerging artists in the circles of heavy music should find Cwfen to be a pleasant surprise. Rather than barraging us with ideas, as if any one release could be their last, the restraint exercised across Sorrows becomes its greatest asset. It’s an easy record to put on, and it’s even easier to let these songs sink under your skin.
7/10
Sorrows releases on the 30th May through New Heavy Sounds, and can be pre-ordered here.