Album Review: Year of the Cobra, Year of the Cobra
They make the point themselves. Year of the Cobra. It says it right there on the punkishly distressed-looking front cover, with a picture of the band in digitized black and white, like a picture off someone’s phone. Year of the Cobra. The photo itself is notable, as neither bassist/vocalist Amy Tung Barrysmith (now also of Slower) nor drummer Johanes Barrysmith are looking at the camera, but both seem to be looking out from under some industrial-looking covering. The Prophecy label is there, subtle and almost punk rock, just the logo with the catalog number under the band’s name to tell you it’s self-titled.
As for the photo, maybe a train station, a bus stop? The implication of touring life, of movement, of quick-get-this-picture-done-so-we-can-catch-this-ride, is prevalent, which is suitable to who Year of the Cobra are as a band, and indeed, the eight songs and 41 minutes of the Seattle duo’s third full-length build on the accomplishments of 2019’s Ash and Dust (review here), marking a crucial moment in the life of the group that they meet with some of their finest, heaviest songcraft.
For it, the two-piece teamed with producer Matt Bayles at Studio Litho (Bayles also mixed at The Red Room, while Brad Boatright mastered at Audiosiege). Known for his work with Isis, Sandrider, Mastodon, 1000mods and a slew of others, Bayles brings clarity enough to highlight the nuanced shifts in Amy‘s bass tone throughout, going from the rumble and infectious nod at the outset of opener “Full Sails” to the punchier fuzz that accompanies the uptempo push of “Daemonium,” while still giving the impression that Year of the Cobra are a band who hit hard, which if you’ve ever seen them on stage you already know is true to life. The entire message of the album, from the fact that it’s self-titled to the grainy pic to the stonervana riff in “War Drop,” the lyrics of which cast present real-world warmaking as catchy and maybe therefore inevitable, a chorus reference to the Wailing Wall putting the song in the time and place of the ongoing wreck of slaughter in Israel and Palestine.
The use of “drop” in the title — modern slang! one would pretend to clutch pearls were one not too broke for even imaginary jewelry — is emblematic of a continuing dialogue with pop influences that surfaced in 2017’s Burn Your Dead EP (review here) after the band’s debut album, 2016’s …In the Shadows Below (review here), laid out the foundation in heavy low end groove and breathy melody. Ash and Dust refined this aspect of their sound, and it’s part of how they’ve grown here as well. Amy‘s performance in “Alone,” which caps side A, not only justifies that song’s would-be-centerpiece positioning in the tracklisting, but reaffirms her power and reach as a singer. In a band that gets so much out of just two instruments sound-wise, Amy‘s voice has become the sneaky third instrument.
The depth of emotion conveyed in “Alone” is a decent example of that (prefaced by the crescendo of “Full Sails”), as much Cranberries (there’s even a mention of lingering) as a keyboard-laced Pallbearer, but also how much work the vocals and lyrics are doing in “Daemonium,” which comes across as a story of confronting someone who’s committed sexual assult — the rush of an interrogation in the chorus: “Did she make it alright?/Did she make it that night?/Did she put up a fight/You know…/Was she quiet?/Or Did she moan inside?/Did she look at you with her hollow eyes?/Did she say a word?/Did she scream in pain?/Did she close her eyes?/Did she plead and beg for her life?” — while framing it in the second-person, “…Did she look at you,” and that somehow conspiratorial, locker-room-talk-ish “you know,” taking the conversations some men have with each other and turning them into an accusation. It is striking, effective, efficient, and purposeful. There are examples of Year of the Cobra mastering their sound, knowing themselves as players and as a band together, as songwriters, all over these tracks.
The flourish in the vocals to help carry “7 Years” back to its hook, or the keyboard-laced post-doom daring-of-hope that takes place in the seven-and-a-half-minute “Prayer” at the end, the hey-let’s-go-on-tour-for-a-month sweep of “Full Sails” — these and others here are nothing less than Year of the Cobra owning their sound and demonstrating full command of their approach to manifesting it. In other words, whether dug into the sprawl of “Alone” or the shove of “Daemonium,” reaching to new ground at the end of the record or reinforcing their proclivity for planting their songs in your brain across the span, Year of the Cobra are doing their best work to-date right now.
Year of the Cobra feels like an album the band have been building toward for nearly a decade as they’ve explored, traveled, and developed across each of their releases, and it may be that two, three, six (?) years from now, they’ll put out another record that’ll be a step forward from this. Great. That doesn’t change the palpable feeling of intention that comes from so much of what’s happening across these eight songs, or the creative triumph of their making.
These, taken with the way in which confrontation of “Daemonium” is likewise one tool in their arsenal, alongside the longing of “Alone,” the brooding sensibility of “The Darkness,” or “Sleep” in which the breadth of bass tone in the verse reminds of Type O Negative circa World Coming Down — not a compliment I give lightly, though with the toxic nature of a lot of that band’s lyrics, they’d be a somewhat ironic influence if they actually were one — the lurch and hint of threat in the melody of “Sleep,” and so on, give Year of the Cobra range beyond that which can come from changing a tempo or clicking a pedal on or off. There’s aural scope to the material, but emotional and expressive scope as well.
From a band in a format that often derives an essential part of its character from configuration — i.e., one hears ‘duo’ and expects a certain kind of rawness — Year of the Cobra are more complete as two than many are as four or five. This self-titled confirms the potential of their work to this point and opens new avenues for them to continue to progress. Given the level of execution across the board, there’s no way Year of the Cobra doesn’t shine as one of 2025’s best releases in underground heavy.
Year of the Cobra, “War Drop” official video
Year of the Cobra, “Full Sails” lyric video
Year of the Cobra, Year of the Cobra (2025)
Year of the Cobra on Instagram
Prophecy Productions on Facebook
Prophecy Productions on Bandcamp
Tags: Prophecy Productions, Seattle, self-titled, Washington, Year of the Cobra, Year of the Cobra Self-titled
Just got my copy in the mail a few days back and it’s an absolute banger. They’re three for three on amazing albums IMO
I’ve somehow skipped their last few outings since In the Shadows Below, and I’ve clearly missed an incredible arc along the way.