Review: Morpholith ‘Dystopian Distributions Of Mass Produced Narcotics’
It’s a few years now since I wrote about Morpholith’s last EP Null Dimensions, and at the time the sense was of a band developing a distinct sound within the framework of long and slow cosmic-ish doom. If we’re looking for a band developing a vision, then a concept double album about dystopian spacefaring societies and their centralised production of psychoactive chemicals is presumably just the ticket! But what do they do with the sound?
The first point of note is that the album is marked by far more drive and crush than the more languid EPs, putting Snæbjörn’s varied vocal styles to good use and drawing something anthemic from battle-weary doom riffs. This is one of those reviews where I could spend ages trying to dodge mentioning bands like Ufomammut or Electric Wizard (or indeed Slabdragger), and all but the freshest neophytes will soon hear points of reference to these and others who came before, but Morpholith take those seeds and grow them in markedly new and twisted directions.
Indeed, this is my main impression of the album: stretching where doom can go, not breaking the mould but reaching out into extremity, cosmic psychedelia and heavy stoned vibes in a cohesive way that few are pulling off in this world of micro-scenes and internet saturation.
cosmic psychedelia and heavy stoned vibes…
Among other reasons for being slow about this review was the promise of seeing Morpholith as a live band, and that has done much to underscore the vitality of the material. Live review – they fucking crush. That the songs both thud in the reptile brain and tickle some higher function is worthy of comparison to 11paranoias at their mind-boggling best. Yes, it’s like the good old days before doom had to be either CVLT or clever (or trad, but we won’t go there) and could be groovy and bleak and punchy.
Iceland of course draws us as outsiders to its extremes – midwinter, midsummer, the violence of fire from beneath the earth – but Morpholith extend to us an invitation to their spring Reykjadoom celebration in their ongoing work of kindling an island scene. And if that doesn’t speak to us island monkeys, then maybe the slog of Dismalium will. Horns up you bastards.
Label: Interstellar Smoke Records
Band Links: Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Harry Holmes
