(Andy Synn would like to invite you all to enter The Oldest House)
There’s another common phrase – and, boy, do I seem to be using a lot of them recently, don’t I? – that goes something like “better late than never”.
Which might as well be our motto here at NCS sometimes, because if we like something we’ll always try our best to write about it, even if that write-up ends up being a little late.
And, let me tell you, I really like The Art of Abysswalking.
Comprising six crushingly heavy, colossally claustrophobic songs, the debut album from The Oldest House (AKA Alex Moreán of Aversio Humanitatis) signals a shift away from the sludgier sounds of their first EP towards an even darker, deathlier approach that sits – to my ears at least – somewhere between the grim, doom-laden grooves of Monotheist-era Celtic Frost and the thick, murky menace of early Altarage.
Blessed (or cursed, dependng on your perspective on such thing) with an utterly humongous guitar tone – as well as an equally hefty, naturally resonant, drum sound – songs like the overwhelmingly intense “Harvester of Humanity” and the equally oppressive opening title-track are defined by a tightly-coiled combination of dense, down-tuned riffs and pounding, propulsive rhythms, all propelled by a series of absolutly punishing percussive patterns (courtesy of Moreán‘s AH band-mate Jonathan Heredia) that transition seamlessly from a dark, doomy crawl to a deathly, blast-fuelled deluge as the oily, organic flow of the music requires.
Despite being painted almost entirely in shades of the blackest black – with only the occasional tattered shred of bleak, grey-scale melody here and there (such as during the simmering, synth-layered intro of “Tomb of the Giants”) to pierce the sullen pall (and even then only barely) – songs such as “The Chosen Undead” (just under five minutes of churning, chugging riffs, groaning, droning chords, and shockingly nasty, scorchingly nihilistic hooks) and the tumultuous, Triptykon-esque “Hollow Warrior” showcase a surprisingly varied and dynamic approach amidst the omnipresent doom ‘n’ gloom (such as the latter’s slow-motion mutation from sinister stomp to blazing blastery to asphyxiating atmosphere over the course of a little over six morbidly heavy minutes).
The vocals too – part tortured, Tom G. Warrior style bellow, part lung-rattling death-growl – manage to express some strikingly intense emotions, and what they might lack in range (don’t expect any shameless, Deathcore-style showboating here) they more than make up for in terms of the sheer depth of crippling despair and cathartic anguish they manage to communicate in each and every track.
Sure, as much as I generally (and genuinely) enjoy the tightly-compressed, explosive extremity of “Nameless Hero” (especially its climactic blast-driven explosion), the album does feel like it reaches a pretty natural conclusion with the final harrowing howl of the titanic “Tomb of the Giants” (whose almost thirteen-minute long run-time gives the track a chance to unleash both some of the darkest, doomiest atmospherics and some of the nastiest, deathliest riffage on the entire record), so there’s an argument that a little less might ultimately have been a little more (especially considering the gruelling, unforgiving nature of the album as a whole), but I’m not necessarily complaining about being given a little too much of a good thing.
So if you’re a fan of bands like The Ominous Circle, early Ultha and the aforementioned Altarage – or, hell, maybe you’re even one of the five other people besides myself who loves Vision of Disorder‘s misunderstood masterpiece From Bliss to Devastation – you should absolutely make time to take a trip to The Oldest House.
Just be aware… once you step inside you may never want to leave.