Album number thirteen for Crippled Black Phoenix delivers a career highlight that rewards those willing to immerse themselves in the moment.
CRIPPLED BLACK PHOENIX
Crippled Black Phoenix are a special band. Complex? Perhaps. Underappreciated? Only by the uninitiated. Regularly traversing multiple genres yet none of them ever really sticking, the perpetually shifting troupe can be tricky to classify, but I’m sure they wouldn’t want anyone sitting around debating genre tags, especially given their extensive discography just waiting to be explored and adored.
Shunning brevity at every turn, each album demands attention and rewards patience, and those already in the know will be craving the release of Sceaduhelm, the band’s thirteenth full-length studio release and, with the wait between albums the longest it’s ever been (although an album of re-worked CBP classics and a second covers album have certainly kept the hearth warm in the intervening years), the drip-fed singles have already been welcomed with open arms.
RAVENETTES
Ravenettes, then, the first of these singles and the first ‘full’ song on the album after the conclusion of the intriguing-yet-slightly-disturbing intro of One Man Wall of Death, dusts off the cobwebs with a darkly driving number that sees the return of long-time vocalist Belinda Kordic, who once again proves to be a key element of the band’s enigmatic existence; strong yet fragile, subtle yet assured, perfectly conveying the album’s theme of inward-facing emotion and the cyclical nature of individual grief and trauma.
Somewhat predictably for a band whose average album runtime almost certainly clips the sixty-minute mark, Sceaduhelm’s presence within the safety net of mid-paced gothic rock songs is fleeting, as the tempo is slowed and the myriad elements of their repertoire make themselves known. The atmospheric post-rock sway of Things Start Falling Apart is strengthened by a huge chorus. New vocalist Justin Storms leads the way on top of band founder (and sole composer) Justin Greaves’ excellent guitar and drum work, acting as ever as the foundation of CBP’s inimitable identity.
No Epitaph
As the album continues to further expand its sound and scope, No Epitaph / The Precipice sees eight and a half minutes disappear in a dust storm of desert rock and apocalyptic blues. I’m suddenly reminded of why 2010’s I, Vigilante sucked me in so completely upon first listen. Ryan Patterson becomes the third vocalist to join the fold here, his baritone voice accentuating the Old West feel of the song amidst both acoustic and electric guitars, with another huge chorus to boot and a final build-up and crescendo that makes light work of Sceaduhelm’s second longest song. The songwriting here is exemplary and after twenty minutes it’s already starting to feel like this could be up there with CBP’s very best work.
The less immediate tracks add weight to the atmosphere and bolster the listening experience for those with the inclination to immerse themselves in the moment. While the midsection of the album threatens to dilute the mood and the tension somewhat, the twin singles of Vampire Grave and Colder and Colder pull things back effortlessly and, despite the former taking over a minute to kick in, both songs are memorable additions to this superlative collection of songs. The three vocalists add a keen sense of diversity to the album’s sound while Justin’s compositions ensure the overall semblance remains focused, and this feels like one of Sceaduhelm’s main strengths alongside its hooks conjured by both vocal and guitar melodies.
Beautiful Destroyer
The band’s constantly revolving cast of permanent members and temporary collaborators is an interesting approach that seems to be working well for a band still going strong after twenty-two years. Lucy Marshall, one of four new band members having joined CBP’s ranks since the release of 2022’s voluminous epic Banefyre, adds some exquisite piano and synth elements throughout, most notably on the brilliant Under The Eye, a seven minute slice of subtly powerful melancholia that wouldn’t sound out of place on anything released by Nick Cave or David Eugene Edwards, while Belinda Kordic’s voice is once again a triumph of emotive energy and relishable warmth.
Closing with the lumbering doom of Beautiful Destroyer, the emotional weight of the song is heightened by Ryan Patterson’s vocals. It culminates in a climax of guitar-driven melody and the repeated chant of, “Call out, answer, echo, rise” that leads the way to the album’s conclusion amidst miscellaneous percussion.
Crippled Black Phoenix have always rewarded the patient listener, and Sceaduhelm is certainly no exception. Despite its themes of introspection and its focus on restraint, it finds itself one of the more accessible albums within the band’s significant back catalogue and will surely become an essential listen for fans both new and familiar. Experiencing the entirety of Sceaduhelm in all its glory feels like watching a live performance so captivating that you find yourself rooted to your spot on the floor, transfixed on the musicians and their art. In a world where our attention spans are being increasingly bid upon and vied for as we consume endless amounts of vacuous content, Sceaduhelm is a rare opportunity to remove all other distractions and just listen. The reward for doing so is not insignificant.
Crippled Black Phoenix: Bandcamp