Album Review: Greenleaf, The Head and the Habit
Posted in Reviews on July 3rd, 2024 by JJ Koczan
People and faces, horses and wolves in the mind, a tumult of inner and outer overwhelm; it’s no wonder that Greenleaf‘s ninth album, The Head and the Habit, starts with the reminder to “Breathe, Breathe Out” amid all the tumult. There’s more to it as well. 2024 makes it 10 years since 2014’s Trails and Passes (review here) introduced vocalist Arvid Hällagård to listeners. Hällagård stepped in to fill the significant shoes of Oskar Cedermalm (also Truckfighters), who had handled vocals on their two prior outings, and has gradually become a defining presence in the band. Never more so than on The Head and the Habit, which in addition to serving as a handy showcase for how the Swedish four-piece founded by guitarist Tommi Holappa (also Dozer) have taken shape in the last decade, is also the band’s first outing for Magnetic Eye after a trilogy of releases — 2021’s Echoes From a Mass (review here), 2018’s Hear the Rivers (review here) and 2016’s Rise Above the Meadow (review here) — issued through Napalm Records.
Hällagård fronts the band — Holappa, bassist Hans Fröhlich and drummer Sebastian Olsson — with marked presence in the material, and with the somewhat contrasting pair of shorter, subdued blues cuts “That Obsidian Grin” and “An Alabastrine Smile” positioned at the end of each side, his soulful delivery has become an essential facet in the band’s consistently evolving dynamic, as well as the symmetry of this LP in its own right. Greenleaf has seen a number of vocalists (not to mention bassists or drummers) come and go, between Fredrik Nordin (Dozer), Peder Bergstrand (Lowrider). and Cedermalm, but the nine songs of The Head and the Habit wouldn’t function as they do with another singer. In framing the lyrics around his experience as a counselor, handling the cover art (Lili Krischke also contributed to the layout) and recording whatever of his own performance wasn’t captured by the esteemed Karl Daniel Lidén (who once upon a time drummed in Greenleaf, lest we forget) at Studio Gröndahl in Stockholm, Hällagård‘s work in cuts like the duly charging “Different Horses” or the eight-minute side B apex “The Tricking Tree” cannot be discounted as part of the band’s persona, especially as they lean further into their own version of a heavy blues sound.
That’s not to say The Head and the Habit lacks for thrust, but where Echoes From a Mass edged closer than ever in terms of riffing to the intensity Holappa might proffer with Dozer — whose first album in 15 years, Drifting in the Endless Void (review here), came out in 2023 on Blues Funeral — this 43-minute collection feels more dug into Greenleaf‘s distinguishing elements. The meandering solo before “The Tricking Tree” slams into its final, nodding roll, answering back to the weight wrought in the likely-titled-for-its-tumbling-riff second cut “Avalanche” much as “That Obsidian Grin” and “An Alabastrine Smile” or even the hooky “Breathe, Breathe Out” and its side-B-opening counterpart “The Sirens Sound” serve as complements. The structure of the record puts one additional song on side A, but the cohesiveness and clarity of purpose throughout — as well as the breadth of the mix/master Lidén at his Tri-Lamb Studios — allows Greenleaf to shift intention from one track to the next without losing sight of where they are in the overarching progression.
The result is that The Head and the Habit flows smoothly despite conveying a bumpier path in theme and sound. Part of what makes it a success is the swagger put into a piece like “Oh Dandelion,” with its start-stop verse and twisting chorus, but as Greenleaf once again diverge from Dozer in terms of style, it’s the bluesier nature underlying even the shove of “Different Horses” or the foreboding “A Wolf in My Mind” — the hook of which brings the album’s title line — that comes into focus as being crucial to the songs. From the righteous shaky-cam rumbles of tone in “Avalanche” to Holappa‘s wistful leads in “An Alabastrine Smile,” as heavy and loud and brash or as quiet, lonely and contemplative as they want to get, it all becomes part of a take that is inextricably Greenleaf while reorienting the band’s position in terms of style, pulling in a direction they seem to be charting as they go.
This is exciting enough in concept — Greenleaf are approaching the 25th anniversary of 2000 their self-titled EP (discussed here); such ongoing creative development is rare regardless of how personnel factors in — but none of it would matter if the songs didn’t hold up. Fortunately, they do. It’s hardly the first time the band have been catchy and able to pack an emotional punch, but they continue to make it sound easier than it actually is from “Breathe, Breathe Out” on. And even in “The Tricking Tree,” with its earlier bashing away and pre-midpoint departure into mellower, jammier, bassier fare, they hold a sense of energy that is individual, unquestionably theirs. Olsson‘s drumming can’t be discounted in keeping the material fluid, but this incarnation of Greenleaf has put in the time on stage and in the studio to win their chemistry as a collective, and the strength of craft across The Head and the Habit feels like its own reward. It’s not just Holappa‘s riffs — though that might be enough, considering — or Hällagård‘s vocals, the character in Fröhlich‘s bass or Olsson‘s drums; it’s how they come together around these songs, which vary in shape but are largely unflinching in quality.
Any album a given band might release is a marker of an ‘era’ in terms of encapsulating a time in that band’s existence — and, obviously, all things end at some point or another; Greenleaf don’t owe anyone anything and have precious little to prove, though they keep proving it anyhow — but The Head and the Habit seems so much to look ahead and to so fervently bask in what makes Greenleaf who they are nearly a quarter-century on that one can’t help but think of it as the realization of what their last decade has been driving toward. A to-date culmination made all the more vital by the high level of performance, the almost deceptively tight songwriting, and the fullness of scope in its component pieces and the flow between them. They’re a special band, and to call The Head and the Habit one of 2024’s best in heavy rock feels like limiting its appeal in terms of time and underselling the growth that’s led Greenleaf to this point — it’s part of a story bigger than itself — but it’s true just the same.
