As we head towards the summer of 2021 with some trepidation of how things are going to proceed in this new covid apocalyptical setting, some things can still be taken for granted. The sun will still come up, and go down daily. The planning for holidays in sunnier climbs is going to become more and more a part of everyday conversations. Thoughts of the possible reopening of venues, and concerts will be crossing the minds of many bands and music fans alike. While all this is taking place, hopefully the masses are still hungry for new music to set their worlds on fire. Well, on that basis, look no further, because you’ve landed firmly at the doors of Domkraft, and they are going to set your world on fire.
Domkraft, natives of Sweden, home to many, many high-profile bands, producers, and labels alike, are gearing up to release their newest album, Seeds this Friday, 30th April, by Magnetic Eye Records and it’s a thing of absolute wonder. The third full length release by the trio and is the follow up to 2018s Flood. Not a band to rest on their laurels, Domkraft have again progressed, evolved, and diversified, without straying too far from the path.
Falling into a niche little sub-genre, which has been described as ‘psychedelic riff doom’, and in the broader spectrum of sludge, Domkraft feel like the bastard offspring of Windhand and Mastodon, minus Dorthia Cottrell ethereal vocals, and without the overly elaborate set pieces of the Mastodon guys.
It rumbles its way through, lurching like a member of the undead community, hungry, and yet pained at the very same time. This seven-track opus really isn’t for the faint hearted, it needs playing at an obscenely loud volume, so that the neighbours can fully embrace the shear brilliance of Domkraft too. It’s hard, gritty, and all consuming.
Right from opener Seeds, it has all the hallmarks of Windhand, its slow, drudgy, and throbbing. When its heavy, its thunderous. Like I’ve already mentioned, the Mastodon element is more noticeable in the vocal, which is shouted at times, and is painfully guttural. It’s weighed down in doom laden goodness, and feels so bulky in its sound, chunky, like wading through mud.
Everything seems to be in aural overdrive, and the wailing, chugging guitar, runs over me like a vicious attack from a feral animal…
This mood doesn’t ever let up, and as Perpetuator follows, it continues down that avenue of pulsating despair. Overpowering and intense, it generates a really anxious closeness, and that feeling never really dissipates. Where Into Orbit takes us on a more up-tempo trip, we’re pulled crashing back down again on track four, Dawn Of Man. This is like a punch to the stomach, it winds me, as the listener, and takes me off my feet. Everything seems to be in aural overdrive, and the wailing, chugging guitar, runs over me like a vicious attack from a feral animal.
Tremors invokes comparisons of a slowed down Tool. Its honest and real, there are no gimmicks, just plenty of pounding and stomping. Somewhat hypnotic at times, it pulls back round to those initial thoughts of Windhand and Mastodon. Its bleak, right down to its very core. Dark, moody, and menacing.
Just to break up the dankness, track six, Krank Blekhet slips in, and this moody little interlude comes as somewhat as a surprise. This is quickly followed by album closer, Audiodome, which wastes no time in picking that pace back up, and forcing me, face first, into the oncoming abyss.
It’s a thunderous finale, like a wall of noise, and its immense. It’s a real powerhouse of a track, the morose narration carries the tune, and even as a listener, you can feel the pain. It’s absolutely intoxicating and demanding of all of your attention. The pace does occasionally let up, but this only leads in to slower, darker passages, before picking up again, lasting right into the dying minutes, even then, that ominous feeling of despair never really goes away.
By the time it’s ended, I feel like I’ve been on a journey to hell and back. It’s been hard, and emotional, but completely all-consuming of my attention. Seeds is most definitely an album for our times, its intense, and painful, while humble, and never overstated. If a doomy, sludgy, spacey ride is what you are looking for, then Domkraft have got you covered. Strap yourself in as it’s a bumpy trip indeed.
Scribed by: Lee Beamish