Album Review: Möuth, Global Warning
Posted in Reviews on February 14th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Though informed by doom, grunge, garage rock, heavy post-rock, progressive rock and an outlier weirdoism that spans generations, Möuth‘s debut album, Global Warning, wants nothing for cohesion. Delivered through Bonebag Records, the album sees the Stockholm-based three-piece of guitarist Martin Sandström, drummer Fredrik Aspelin and bassist/vocalist Erik Nordström — the latter two formerly of psychblasters S:t Erik, whose From Under the Tarn LP came out on Solitude Productions in 2009 — running through nine smoothly-transitioning tracks across 40 minutes that are in conversation with each other even as they shift between different styles and bring arrangement flourish to their strong foundation in songwriting. As a title, Global Warning feels most of all like it’s talking about the band itself, and the warning that comes through is duly urgent. There’s something here. Don’t miss it. The music is its own best advocate.
Opener “Holy Ground” strikes a relevant metallic first impression in its guitar, and sure enough, that kind of float becomes a theme that will carry throughout the rest of what follows. The song is nonetheless direct in its verse delivery, despite a somewhat spinning impact. It feels early for cosmic triumphs, but if you’re going to do it the start of the record is as good a place as any, and with the later proggy synth adding to the atmosphere as no less a prelude than the underlying metal or overhead lead work, “Holy Ground” serves as an efficient, effective partial summary of the band’s scope, hinting at things to come without revealing too much of the actual shape of the thing. It is also the first of three instrumental takeoffs, as Möuth depart halfway to ride a groove and bask in repetition as they don’t quite jam it out, but dig into a part and see how doing so changes its shape. Like when electrons don’t exist until you observe them. Quantum mechanical shit happening.
“Sheep,” which is the presumed finale of side A and “In My City,” which caps the record as a whole follow suit with similar drop-everything-and-go excursions, and by the end of the latter, the thread woven throughout makes the album that much stronger and purposeful-feeling. A stop after “Holy Ground” brings on “Dirt,” which feels like an Alice in Chains reference but isn’t musically or thematically, with a ’70s rock shimmer and proto-punk drive, a declarative stomp and a darker chorus. Notably, in Sandström‘s layered guitar, one channel has the rhythm while the lead pokes itself out in front of the mix. He’s pulling notes, and it seems like it might be fuckery, but it works and “Dirt” benefits by having a secondary instrumental hook behind that chorus, Nordström letting out a Dave Wyndorf/Lorenzo Woodrose-style “yeah!” as they get into the solo section, pushing all the while.
The focus on movement in “Dirt” eases the turn into “Speed of Life,” which reinvents the riff to Pentagram‘s classic “Forever My Queen” toward its own ends, with a soulful shredder of a solo and a backbeat dutifully held to accommodate it. Not short on dynamic, Möuth work their way into and around a party vibe — the songs are celebratory on mathematical balance, but not trying to align to one particular heavy niche or another — but are as much doom, and “Sheep,” which is the longest track at 6:39, an obvious focal point and a memorable standout besides, isn’t the first and won’t be the last time a tambourine sneaks in to give extra sense of motion to the material. “Sheep,” is metal-adjacent in its melancholy at the start, but for the toms, and it accounts for some of what “Holy Ground” laid out. It’s bottom-end heavy and melodic to remind one of Torche without trying to be them, and while the final line, “We’re all sheep,” is a funny message ahead of “Alike” later on, at least they’re counting themselves among the number as that lyric affirms. Three minutes in, they drop to a bassy break and dive into the instrumental shove echoing the opener, never quite losing the progression of the song as they go.
That’s an exciting moment, but as “Sheep” gets an epilogue in the quiet “Dream On”-meet-post-rock interlude “World Pain,” Möuth set about expanding the context for Global Warning as a whole with the procession of the album’s second half. “Appetite” is a high point for heft, picking up from the quiet of “World Pain” with a classic Sabbath-circa-Dehumanizer riff with due swing behind from Aspelin on drums, whose work throughout serves as yet another example of the difference the right drummer can make in the right band. Darker and simpler in its stylistic ideology, “Appetite” has immediate appeal and balances the burl of its tone and chorus stating, “I’ve got an appetite,” across a variety of applications thereof, with a sleekly black-hued psych guitar, like Messa or Iron Jinn might, so that it feels neither like a put-on nor like somebody confessing they’re a sexual predator, which is an oddly fine line across which heavy rock and roll sometimes stumbles. Möuth know what they’re about, and hold the momentum built in “Appetite” over to “Alike,” where the guitars go island-style about a minute in to set up the verse and a Phil Collins-y vocal delivers a message of universalism before the song explodes.
Like the unpredictable turn to the solo in “Holy Ground,” “Alike” offers thrills through the depths of its execution. Tonally, melodically, in the arrangement that comes to a head and bursts before it eases back into the shuffling verse with post-punk moodiness, “Alike” leads into “Mantra,” which hides its punkish breakout in reserve alongside its urbane central groove. There’s some synth in there too unless I’m imagining things — possible. — and the sound generally feels like it’s looking to expand from here even as “Mantra” branches out from what its companion pieces have accomplished, moving into an ’80s rock vibe and sounding like a different band than the one that gutted out “Appetite” just two songs ago. This, it turns out, is another strength on the part of the band. They are malleable. “Mantra” ‘gets heavy’ as it goes, and that’s just fine, thanks, and when the three-piece arrive at “In My City,” the sense of landing is palpable. You have reached your destination, as your satnav might tell you.
Second in runtime only to “Sheep” at a still-crisp 5:45, “In My City” feels like it’s taking its time to establish the groove, but in real life it’s about 40 seconds before they’re in it. Big lean on the hook and a strong enough hook to support it; by now it’s a familiar situation. Respectably, “In My City” could have been a disco song, but it isn’t. They keep some ’80s flair in it, but it’s darker than dance. The riff builds right about at the midpoint, and breaks down to set up one last instrumental ride, the movement around a theme once again giving Möuth a platform to hypnotize the listener. One more time, the lead guitar pulling notes over top. One more time, the tambourine. One more time, Möuth use what they have with thought, care and wisdom to convey an individual impression of who they are and their intentions, present and future. The potential they showcase is striking, and the palette they’re working with is very much their own. Global Warning pulls the audience into its movement, not sweeping and pretentious, but with the band confident that what they’re doing is right. And it works, so they must be.
