Artist: The Devils Blood
Title: The Thousandfold Epicentre
Type: Album
Label: Van Records
When The Devil’s Blood’s first demo began to make ripples in the darker corners of the 70’s revival the first thing that became clear was that they weren’t part of it. Not really. Their association was more a coincidence of timing and roots than fashion and design. That there was something other about this publicity shy troupe became apparent over a single, an EP and a debut album. With a sound that had parents like Roky Erickson, Blue Oyster Cult and The Doors, they were nevertheless more likely to be found sharing stages with black metal bands than their more doom inclined brethren. They were intense, intelligent and esoteric but most of all they had the songs. It seems that their reticence to step fully into the spotlight really was a calculated attempt to force the focus onto their music, not a simple publicity gimmick.
So after that enthusiastically received album, ‘The Time Of No Time Evermore’ which was a fine collection of psyched and psychedelic songs, and with their musical reputation built on that and a refreshing enthusiasm for the importance of the live ritual rather than an obsession with fake mystery, what have they offered us for their next step?
The Devils Blood have never lacked confidence in their vision but this time around the first thing thats touches you is their huge passion for music as worship and celebration. After the quiet entrance of ‘Endless Singularity’, those clear guitars fire us into the maelstrom that is ‘On The Wings Of Gloria’; a song that epitomises this album. This is a song seemingly carved from utter cosmic chaos by a wall of guitars and voices which just fling you against the wall and sear you with their passion. With that driving, heartbeat like rhythm section which conjures up Blue Oyster Cult on amphetamines and the gorgeous melodies burned through by the hard guitar leads, you then have The Voice seemingly on the verge of ecstasy reaching notes that appear out of reach but are never missed. It is the sound of total, joyous worship, a celebration of all things in their Satanic and Esoteric philosophies. No grim corpsepaint, just open arms to show you the way, to welcome you to their church. Make no mistake; this is a very religious sound.
It is a difficult album in a way, too. Not musically; there it is a full goblet of rich, extraordinarily catchy melody, but the intensity is such that even when a track like ‘Die The Death’ or the mesmeric ‘Within The Charnel House Of Love’ offer you wings to glide you through their endtimes there is always another driving, rhythmic song like the wondrous, occult and explicit ‘Cruel Lover’ to plunge back into the primordial cosmic fire.
Yes it is as deliriously, madly over the top as that last sentence but if you drop your cynical defences and recognise that it is deadly serious art, not a trace of irony or ‘retrospective chic’ in it’s glorious soul, it is awe inspiring stuff.
Listen to ‘She’ as exuberant Goddess/Lilith worship: Love, intelligence and adoration is in every guitar lick and every breath from that extraordinary voice and you realise this is commitment as deep as any Watain. I know they could rip apart any half baked knowledge I have around esoteric lore, dualist philosophies like The Process church and Destruction/Creation paths but when you hear them expound on such things as on the heart wrenching title track, and do it in the framework of hard rock steeped in melody and unfettered chaos breaks of guitar you can simply marvel at both the talent and the audacity.
The Thousandfold Epicentre wears it’s considerable heart on it’s sleeve: restrained, intricate gold on stark black. Far less psychedelic in a visual and musical sense than it’s predecessor, it is the step beyond The Time Of No Time Evermore. It is more primal as it describes everything, as the lyrics say, burning and collapsing into nothing and death.
‘Fire Burning’ would be a hit single in another time, a refrain that Blue Oyster Cult would kill for and once more with the wings of chaos barely held back. But The Devils Blood use it as the final moment of destruction after which the album falls back into the countdown of the final three tracks, themselves half an hour of music. The soft sounds of voice paired with gentle, simple notes of ‘Everlasting Saturnalia’ leading into the driven but somehow less wild ‘The Madness Of Serpents’, an hypnotic theme which shudders to a slow, quiet halt. There sparse notes fall, random melodies held together by a soft hi-hat and snare rhythm and space rock keyboards whispering by in the background. It in turn gives way to the fifteen minute coda of ‘Feverdance’: acoustic guitar and distant soft vocals against a background of cosmic static, of the Holy Death, of Nothing and the one beacon of the lighthouse of Damnation.
The pacing of this ending may seem an anti-climax to some, but in reality it is more the perfect, logical step after the endtimes. The sound of cleansing and the end of creation. Where they go from here is anyone’s guess.
Overall, there is a chance that this album may sort out the hipsters from the fans. It is absolutely recognisable and unmistakable as the Devils Blood, subtle brief reprises of old melodies dance in without being repetitive to offer points of orientation. However the real progression here into a slightly harder sound and a more glorious celebration of their philosophical leanings may be the point where you, the listener, are forced to confront the fact that this is an irony free zone.
Deliriously, beautifully, masterful song crafting, hooks to sell your soul for and the glorious passion of believers. Long, dense and forged from chaos. For me this is such an advance on their debut it at time staggers me and yet they have barely tinkered with the sound. It is just more of their heart and the production allowing every colour to shine. Every bit of the promise of that first demo is in full bloom here.
With this kind of fevered hard rock music there is a razors edge between brilliance and an incomprehensible mess and The Devils Blood don’t walk that razor, they dance it with the confidence of burning angels.
Walking The Liminal Space 