Graveyard – Hisingen Blues (Nuclear Blast Records)
There are some musical sins that can be forgivable for the right artist–self-aggrandizing stage banter (if you’re David Lee Roth), releasing albums with no original members (if you’re Napalm Death or Thin Lizzy), or using a history of great output to justify less-than-spectacular later releases (if you’re a Wu-Tang member or Greg Ginn). But some are more difficult to justify, particularly a personal pet peeve of mine, that of the retro throwback. The idea that music peaked in a certain year and that the spirit of that era can be recaptured by playing dress-up in period-specific attire and by playing note-for-note knock-offs of the classics is disingenuous, an attempt to claim originality–or at the very least a connection with an era known for original work–that’s completely devoid of inventiveness. Which is why, when something is described as sounding like it had been recorded in any particular point in time other than its actual date of creation, it’s hard not to roll my eyes.
Graveyard – Hisingen Blues (Nuclear Blast Records)
There are some musical sins that can be forgivable for the right artist–self-aggrandizing stage banter (if you’re David Lee Roth), releasing albums with no original members (if you’re Napalm Death or Thin Lizzy), or using a history of great output to justify less-than-spectacular later releases (if you’re a Wu-Tang member or Greg Ginn). But some are more difficult to justify, particularly a personal pet peeve of mine, that of the retro throwback. The idea that music peaked in a certain year and that the spirit of that era can be recaptured by playing dress-up in period-specific attire and by playing note-for-note knock-offs of the classics is disingenuous, an attempt to claim originality–or at the very least a connection with an era known for original work–that’s completely devoid of inventiveness. Which is why, when something is described as sounding like it had been recorded in any particular point in time other than its actual date of creation, it’s hard not to roll my eyes.
That said, two things immediately struck me when listening to Graveyard’s newest album. The first is that it sounds like it could have been recorded in 1972. The second is that it rules. The fact that they can sidestep all the pretense and schlock so many of their stoner rock contemporaries fall into elevates them above their long-haired, snail-paced brethren. There’s no question Graveyard offers a nod towards their influences: the tribute to Blue Cheer guitarist Randy Holden in “No Good, Mr. Holden;” “The Siren,” what singer Joakim Nilsonn describes as “a nightmare of Roky Erickson;” and the more obvious references of “Uncomfortably Numb” and “Ungrateful Are The Dead.” But when the band makes these mentions, it seems like less an attempt to insert themselves into some sort of pantheon as it does a quick tip of the hat before they’re on their way.
It’s not simply the attitude that sets Graveyard apart though. Unlike most heavy music, their songs don’t plod or thrash, but instead rely on a nimble agility not unlike Captain Beyond or Atomic Rooster (though they thankfully avoid the prog-rock bombast of those bands’ later releases) or more recent bands like Witchcraft, though mercifully devoid of that band’s occasional flute solo. Where the band’s 2008 debut leaned more heavily upon a Black Sabbath/Pentagram influence, elements like the Ennio Morricone-esque spaghetti western vibe of “Longing” (complete with whistling) or the eerie Hammond organ of “Ungrateful Are The Dead” show that Graveyard are one of the rare bands who can incorporate a broader sonic palette without it coming off as gimmicky or a watering down of their sound. Even the lyrical approach is wider-ranging: while the title track is a more traditionalist metal paean to Satan, the appropriately-titled “Uncomfortably Numb” displays an disarming emotional openness rarely associated with heavy bands. It utilizes a blunt lyrical approach to describe a relationship’s dissolution, a downer moment that is saved from outright maudlin navel-gazing by the ultimate pick-me-up–a wailing guitar solo.
It’s impossible not to draw from the past, but it’s important not to linger there. If every band that’s been copied so thoroughly over the years had approached their music the same way as their imitators, we’d all still be banging on rocks and sticks. But Graveyard manages to pay its respect to the past without living in it. They’re a band that has truly learned as much from their forebears’ artistic missteps as from their successes, and in the process, have created an album without a single flaw. It may be a little early to call it definitively, but it seems highly doubtful that a better album will come out this year.
