Review & Full Album Premiere: Shadow Witch, Eschaton (The End of All Things)
Posted in audiObelisk, Reviews on June 18th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
[Click play above to stream Shadow Witch’s Eschaton (The End of All Things) in its entirety. Album is out Friday on Argonauta Records and the band play their release show at Maryland Doom Fest 2024 this weekend.]
All things end, and Shadow Witch‘s songwriting is suited to endtimes, with a gospel feel and theme amid the doom rock groove and an intermittent metallic severity. Eschaton (The End of All Things) is the fourth full-length from the Kingston, New York-based four-piece fronted by Earl Walker Lundy with Jeremy Hall (since replaced by Jesse Cunningham) on guitar/keys, bassist David Pannullo and drummer Justin Zipperle (also piano/Hammond) making his first recorded appearance since coming aboard following the tracking of 2020’s Under the Shadow of a Witch (review here), which until now was their most realized outing to-date. Clocking in at an easily manageable 36 minutes, the eight self-recorded pieces of Eschaton (The End of All Things) ask little — not nothing — in terms of indulgence and reward the listener in the diversity of their approach, starting with the quick 80-second motor-riff of “Speedy Goes to Sludgetown” that is deceptively complex as it builds to the finish with synth and vocals worked in around the centralized forward push. It’s not nearly as atmospheric as “Dominu Sanctus Oblivion,” which leads off side B with its hard-hitting cycles of drumming and layered vocal chanting, references to The Exorcist on guitar and so forth, but that song is six minutes long and it probably wouldn’t work as an album intro. No time to waste. Shadow Witch have places to be and the songs to get them there.
Eschaton (The End of All Things) of course begs the question whether the ending being discussed in its title is that of the band itself. Best I can do in terms of an answer after listening is: “maybe?” One never knows generally and I won’t make any definite predictions, but between the departure of Hall, the plague that happened between the third album’s recording/release and this one, and the creative progression undertaken since Lundy, Hall and Pannullo set forth in 2016 with their debut, Sun Killer (discussed here), if this was to be the final Shadow Witch release, they certainly don’t owe anyone anything, and they sound like they’ve put everything they have into this record. From “Speedy Goes to Sludgetown” into the melancholic starts and stops of “Satellites” touching later on Southern rock as it brings acoustic and electric guitars together with keys and the first of several standout performances from Lundy, whose lyrics recast manmade spacetrash as falling angels and/or stars, namedropping a burning bush and serpent along the way to emphasize the being-raised-baptist-is-a-trauma religious undertones that have been a part of Shadow Witch all along but that also find a fresh point of view throughout Eschaton (The End of All Things). A melodic soulful dig in “Tell Me,” which follows, is burly but almost desert rocking in its tone, shifting from the sweeping crescendo of “Satellites” with organ and backing vocals to a more rigid stomp that grows fervent in its later gallop without any real threat of derailment to the momentum the band have already built.
The subsequent “Nobody” leans into insistent punk-metal with a hook that reminds me (and this is a ‘me’ thing rather than a likely influence) of Midwestern pushers Bloodcow as Lundy takes on the voice of some of masculinity’s more toxic gaslighting in the unfortunately-not-post-Trump era: “Nobody knows more about you than me/Nobody does more for you than me… I’m the man/And you all must do as I command,” and so on. Discussions of power and the abuse thereof aren’t necessarily new for Shadow Witch — the third album had “Wolf Among the Sheep,” and a cut like “Cruel” from 2017’s Disciples of the Crow (review here) saw its subject through a social justice lens — but the craft on Eschaton (The End of All Things), the subtle turns in the instrumental arrangements and the heart poured into the belted-out delivery of the vocals over top, frame the conversation and exploration of ideas in an accessible, heavy rock and roll that has never been both so broad in reach or so outwardly sure of its path.
Recorded on their own, as noted above, with a mix and master by Paul Orofino, the material feels divergent but is structurally sound and aware of its audience, with “Nobody” giving over to the big-nodding side A finale “Let it Out” giving willful contrast to “Tell Me” earlier — directly: the repeated line of the backing vocals is “Don’t tell me…” which Lundy answers in call and response — in a tight three-and-a-half-minute course, moderately placed like if KISS had ever given a damn what their songs were actually about. They’ve got some according swagger there, but Shadow Witch have never been just darkness stylistically. In terms of aesthetic, there’s as much light as black under their blacklights.
With a hook that’s downright vibrant and swing to spare, “Let it Out” is for sure present-tense in its frustrations, and it ends with Zipperle‘s drums on a fade before giving over to the immediate riff introducing “Dominu Sanctus Oblivion,” which is based around a chorus that becomes a kind of thanatos/destruction-worshiping chant and a lead-in for the apocalyptic narrative fleshed out across “The Lion and the Lamb” and closer “The Fallen.” The last three cuts, all over six minutes long (nothing on side A touched five), retain the intentionality of, say, “Satellites” and “Tell Me,” but are focused on a distinct procession. “Dominu Sanctus Oblivion,” then, is both the moment where that turn happens and the beginning of the story perceived, told in fire-and-brimstone preach and sharp streaks of guitar soloing, a manifestation of the Judgment Day being referenced in the album’s title. They still make it move and have a quieter break in the second half to offset the song’s cyclical pattern before they restart for one more hypnotic, willfully grandiose time through, finishing riffier and edgier before the cold stop brings standalone guitar at the start of “The Lion and the Lamb.” Marked by its inclusion of organ and evocative lead guitar, the penultimate cut on Eschaton (The End of All Things) is both a lead-in for “The Fallen” and a landmark in itself for the band, reminiscent of some of Dio-era Black Sabbath‘s more sprawling fare, whether that’s “Heaven and Hell” or “Falling Off the Edge of the World,” neither of which it’s actively emulating.
A synthy wash of noise eases the transition to the urgent opening build of “The Fallen,” and if there is some autobiographical aspect to Eschaton (The End of All Things) — that is, if part of what’s ending is the band itself — no one will be able to say they didn’t go out on top. A career performance from Lundy around a get-in-punk-we’re-taking-Heaven lyric and the corresponding manner in which the song unfolds instrumentally is stately in a way that both accounts for “The Lion and the Lamb” and the detail and arrangement flourish Shadow Witch have basked in throughout. But the closer is singular in its character and caps with a vision of doom that is bluesy, classic, gospel-informed and progressive without pushing so far as to lose the plot of which it is still only one piece set forth in the two songs prior, culminating with layered vocals and organ in complement to the final lines as the song resolves: “Fold your wings around me/We’re going home.” Those wings are leather, and “home” is a march of the fallen on capital-‘p’ Paradise, but the emotion behind the delivery is sincere and palpable, and as Shadow Witch do on their fourth album front-to-back, they depart with the sense of purpose that Eschaton (The End of All Things) has so roundly highlighted. Like I said at the start, all things end. Not all things are fortunate enough to do so with such resonance. I don’t know that this will be the last Shadow Witch record or not — and for what it’s worth, I hope not — but what they bring to fruition in these songs should be considered nothing less than a definitive work today, and today is what matters.
