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Friday Full-Length: Worm Ouroboros, Come the Thaw

Posted in Bootleg Theater on March 6th, 2020 by JJ Koczan

The notion of heaviness in music has nearly as many definitions as it has bands who claim representation through it on one level or another. That is to say, it’s broad. It’s only grown more so with time, and when I hear an album like Worm Ouroboros‘ 2012 sophomore outing, Come the Thaw, it’s hard not to be reminded of just how far the idea can range. Of course, all these categories of subcategories, aesthetic ideals and microgenres are amorphous anyway. They can be whatever one wants them to be, at least as much as the argument can be justified.

To wit, Come the Thaw is a richly progressive collection. It brings together six songs across a fluidly constructed, thoughtful and resonant 50 minutes. Since its primary emphasis is on atmosphere, it wouldn’t feel right to call it “prog” as a genre tag, but I don’t know if it would necessarily be incorrect. And loud or quiet, its gracefully-delivered songs are most certainly heavy, turning guitar, bass, vocals and keyboards into spacious chamber doom marked out by the intertwining vocals of bassist Lorraine Rath (ex-Amber Asylum) and guitarist Jessica Way (also Barren Harvest), with not-always-there-but-dynamic-when-called-upon drumming by Aesop Dekker (Agalloch, Vhöl) for backing. There are more aggressive stretches, fuller tonal impacts, but primarily, it is a weight of emotionality and presence alone that makes Come the Thaw so overarchingly heavy.

Recorded and mixed by Greg Wilkinson at Earhammer Studios in Oakland, California, in the band’s native Bay Area, and mastered by Justin Weis at Takworx, and with cover art by RathCome the Thaw followed two years after Worm Ouroboros made an impressive self-titled debut (review here). It was offered up by Profound Lore, which at that time already had established its place among the most forward-thinking contingent of upstart independent imprints, and as one recalls arrived with little ceremony, which seems appropriate. It isn’t a record for everyone. Even as the nine-minute side B leadoff “When We Are Gold” kicks into its more straight-ahead guitar/bass/drum push in its second half, paying off the build played out subtly across the first part of the song, its mournful feel is far removed from what one might call welcoming, groove though it does before collapsing again to quiet guitar and voice.

That song is an effective mirror for the album’s opener and longest track (immediate points) “Ruined Ground,” which pushes beyond the 10-minute mark and also “gets loud” for a bit in that span, its execution remaining worm ouroboros come the thawslow and wistful in kind with the ambience already put forth by the trio and setting up the kind of post-whatever-you-got building progression of “Further Out,” which follows and is nothing if not aptly named, taking the ringing, almost gothic guitar of Bauhaus or The Cure and stripping it of drama or pop and stretching it to suit longer-form and atmospheric purposes. While not at all psychedelic, it is otherworldly, and its last minute feels like a willful act of letting go into “Release Your Days,” which is almost entirely driven by the voices of Rath and Way, though there is some relatively minimal guitar and bass accompaniment.

Frankly, that’s all they need. The two singers work so well together that even with nearly nothing else save a few melancholy lines here and there, “Release Your Days” is a standout from Come the Thaw for more than just its shift in approach. As one side turns to the next, “When We Are Gold” brings through “Withered,” which by default is the most outwardly loud/heavy inclusion, nonetheless maintaining the patient feel of the songs prior as it does. That is, it’s not in a rush to get to the louder guitar and it doesn’t feel like it should be. Dekker‘s drums begin a smooth-shifting build and at 3:45 — almost exactly halfway through the track’s 7:32 run — Way‘s guitar clicks into a fuller tone and the album’s most substantial roll takes hold. Rath‘s basslines underscore a layer of lead and distorted wash, and the song moves back in its final minute to a bookending stretch of quiet guitar, emphasizing the point that there is craft at work from Worm Ouroboros, even if it’s functioning on its own structural level.

That wasn’t really in doubt, given the outright commitment to stylistic expression being renewed in each of these pieces, but the finale, “Penumbra,” underscores the point just the same, with cymbal washes, tense bass and guitar and a vocal that seems to rise and recede from and into an encompassing emptiness. It’s a few minutes in before even the softer guitar figure takes hold, and Dekker peppers in some quiet tom thuds here and there, but the point is clearly made once more in the atmosphere and in the vocals, which rise to a final high note before cutting out and ending the record entirely. It is beautiful and sad, like difficult conversations.

Each half of Come the Thaw has three songs. Each begins with its longest track, moves its shortest, and ends with one in between. It might not seem like it when one just puts the album on and listens straight through front-to-back, but there is a sense of construction in Worm Ouroboros‘ second full-length, and it is a foundation on which the band put forth an artistic and emotional challenge to themselves and to their audience. Again, it’s not a record for everyone. It is a kind of heavy, a kind of extremity, that refuses to work on any level other than its own, refuses to compromise its mission, and is all the more commendable for that.

Worm Ouroboros released a follow-up in late 2016 called What Graceless Dawn (review here) and continued to play live on the West Coast through early 2019, admitting the decreasing frequency of shows even in announcing dates. I don’t know if they’ll do another record or if Worm OuroborosCome the Thaw and What Graceless Dawn will remain a trilogy of works, but even if that’s the case, Worm Ouroboros‘ studio efforts are a resounding testament to the many shapes that sonic heaviness takes and that “impact” in terms of sound need not necessarily just be a question of volume or tempo. Come the Thaw creates and inhabits a world of its own. From where I sit, it’s pretty heavy stuff.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

You might remember when Heavy Psych Sounds did those Nebula reissues I ran a series of interviews and full album streams to coincide? Starting next week I’ll be doing the same with the three Dozer records the label is putting out. I’m stoked. Also look for a Sorcia stream and maybe a Candlemass review if I can convince Napalm to actually send a download of the tracks instead of the promo stream. Used to be CDs  in the mail. Then it was downloads, and that sucked. Now you have to go begging for downloads or keep 75 Haulix tabs open. Soon you won’t get music to review, it’ll just be the cover art and a band bio. People wonder why reviews are shitty.

Speaking of shitty reviews, I’ll probably try to write about the Ozzy record next week as well. Not that that’ll necessarily be a bad review — I don’t know, I haven’t written it yet — but yeah.

Couple quick plugs then I’m out:

New episode of the Gimme Radio show today, 5PM Eastern. Listen on the app or http://gimmeradio.com. I’d recommend the app.

Podcaster Dylan Gonzalez of Diary of Doom was kind enough to invite me for an interview that wound up as a two-parter. First part is up and here if you get to check it out. Thanks either way. I haven’t listened yet — can’t really stand the sound of my own voice — but thanks if you do: https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-4yhnb-d568e0.

That’s all I’ve got. I could go on about the coronavirus, the bummer Democratic primary, the overwhelming state of the Weirdo Canyon Dispatch or any number of baseball or Star Trek-related things that would be a lot of fun to talk about, but let’s face it, if you’re still reading this sentence, you’ve done me enough favors as far as I’m concerned. I’d rather not take advantage of your goodwill.

This week, anyhow. Ha.

— Ah shit, just got an email for a project I let slip through the cracks. I was supposed to write liner notes for the Stone Machine Electric 7″ and just blew it on the timing. Fuck. I suck at this. Always some reminder. This is why I’ve pulled back on writing bios and the like. Clearly that’s the right choice, rather than committing to something because I think it’s cool and I’d like to do it and then letting people down. Sucks. Hell of a way to end the week.

Please have a great and safe weekend. Have fun, be safe, don’t touch your face too much (apparently), and be kind to each other.

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