Right after grunge broke, a slew of bands started topics and debates of experimental indifferences. This resulted in doorway after doorway of metal genres opening, which eventually broke off into their own sub-genres. Basements were leveling out the playing rock fields. Everyone with their new heightened, jaded sense of what extreme metal could sound like, and how to make it instrumental, started a band. They either went dark with a heavy presence or enlightened like doom and white metal.
Out of every good band from this era were five bad ones. It was garage band overkill with all rose-colored glasses aside after ‘80s hair metal had flattened. Soundgarden, Melvins and KARP were splitting the West Coast into all sorts of territorial punk regions worthy of exploration, but that’s what brings you and I here today to look inside The Infinite Mirror.
Worlds Divide outshines the introduction song by a million galactic years ahead of its time, but when push comes to shove, Ritual King are indeed on the cusp of an undeniable, righteous rock timeline. Their tempo is amped and riffs are solarized with almost every song building up into its outro. If Sub Pop came up with an imprint record company flying desert rock colors only, Ritual King would be signed and sealed in their new brand-new red, desert cruiser.
Their tempo is amped and riffs are solarized…
It’s stable all the way until Tethered comes along. Hints of watery, sludgy blues are heard from a majority of Ripple Music’s band lineup, they have a certain in-house style that suits them well, and Ritual King blend right in like camo. This album is their second release for the label in the past three years. Somehow, they always seem to find and/or cross paths with metalhead astronauts with spaced-up rock that pounces on you like Five Horse Johnson, and maybe rolls you around in the hay a bit like Tummler or Sasquatch. But if we go digging in Ritual Kings closet of rock t-shirts, we’re apt to find Earthless and Nebula amid the tour shirt swapping.
They are Manchester’s answer, if not prayer, to slow southern steel brewed up to go down like whiskey with some harsh moments, some flawless, and others too fine-tuned. Music can make us forget our blues absorbing in the heavy surround sound of its own. Mirror, mirror on the wall who can play the most infinite guitar loops of them all?
Scribed by: Spring ‘The Strutter’ Chase