Album Review - Windhand Soma

Soma is a doom metal classic. Now that we have that out of the way, the backlash can come sweeping in. Let it. Not often in the depressed, cold world of doom does something with this much soul come forth. Sure, the only real test is the test of time but Windhand are at least ahead of the pack.

Richmond has given birth to countless intense metal acts, Municipal Waste, Gwar, Lamb of God to name a few. It’s an artistic city full of youth and energy, yet still near to the poverty and rural brutality that encapsulates much of the south. Windhand summon the sense of urgency and awareness that must be a sixth sense in the region. Summoning nature, darkness and raw power, Soma is a slab of punishing life lesson.

“Orchard” is pure sludge from the get-go; Weedeater would be smoking with pride as the song stumbles into a world of reverb. Dorthia Cottrell makes it known that she is not the typical knucklehead stoner metal singer. It’s almost off putting at first… she is actually singing. Let that sink in, man. Possibly the doomiest band to appear in years has a crooner up front. Her voice shakes the song down to its bare core, leaving an eerie mist floating over the pounding guitar work of Asechiah Bogdan and Garrett Morris.

Windhand finds some rhythm on “Woodbine”, quaking the landscape with distorted rambling and shaking song work. The riff moseys down a dirt road to an empty cabin in the woods, surely we are all dead and this is the soundtrack to the end of times.

Soma is considered a concept-album by the band but that’s the end of their part of the story. Once the needle touches vinyl it becomes the listeners trip; slowly these riffs take you to where they intend to; Windhand is driving this old pick over yonder and they are in no hurry.

Hessians suffering from ADD will cringe and squirm throughout the down right sluggish “Feral Bones”, a crawling, drowsy eight minutes of weariness. Windhand is not forgiving, pounding their will into the ground, building a village of creepy, grief-ridden music.

On “Evergreen”, Soma takes a sudden and stunning turn, changing gears by stripping down to Cottrell and her acoustic guitar creating an entirely new stage of narrative. “Evergreen” is creepy cute, so out of left field that it comes as a shock to hear Cottrell open up so much, breaking away from the typical formula of a metal record. “Boleskine” continues to test the ceiling of our acceptance; a 30 minute crushing production breaking Soma down to it’s bare naked self, a nucleolus of manic distress and despondency that will leave a hole in your soul and a smile on your face.

9/10