Esoteric Antenna 2025
The legends of doom ‘n’ gloom get back from the void to let their glory see the light of day again.
Circle The Sun
They were much more than a mere rock ensemble – ATOMIC ROOSTER were a melodically memorable concept, with distinct sonic and subject-matter identity, driven by one person’s legion of demons, which is why even to imagine this collective could exist without Vincent Crane, who passed away in 1989, seemed sacrilegious. Still, 2016 saw two former band members, guitarist Steve Bolton and singer Peter French, whose shared stint in the fold lasted just a couple of months in 1971 and didn’t bring forth a single, let alone album, reform the group – and failed to produce new music. So when French left to work on a new LEAF HOUND platter seven years later, it was down to Boltz and his new teammates to persevere and deliver the goods – and they did exactly that, not simply following the previous records’ templates but perfectly capturing and channeling the spirits of yore into fresh cuts.
The British foursome don’t try and hide their reference points, with such tasty heavy-prog pieces as “Last Night” and “Rebel Devil” picking up where “Tomorrow Night” and “Devil’s Answer” respectively left off decades ago, and the wildly swaying “Walk With Me” challenging “Death Walks Behind You” in the infectiousness stakes, yet the foursome go farther than paying respects to the past. Of course, the listeners must find a lot of delight in haunting the familiar horror-stricken territory, where histrionic hysterics of howling Hammond are masterfully reined in by six-string riffs, from the very start, because when the tellingly christened opener “Fly Or Die” floats into focus to unfold its creepingly riveting aural panorama, there’s no doubt as to what ensemble these ten numbers belong to. However, the piano-sprinkled, twangy “Pillow” and the acoustically tinged, chant-tinctured “Never 2 Lose” flow with a different sort of delicious, voodoo-esque dread, while the hard rocking title track offers anthemic refrains for the audience to latch onto and join in the choral harmonies.
As vocalist Adrian Gautrey’s ivories paint nightmarish landscapes, thrown into sharp relief by Shug Spencer’s bass and Paul Everett’s drums, Bolton’s passages stream rage, rendering even the bluesy likes of “No More” irresistibly arresting, and once “First Impression” brings cosmic imagery to the fore the satisfied smile is guaranteed. And this smile is guaranteed to turn into rictus after “Blow That Mind” segues out of its predecessor to throb towards eternal light, but the only reason for the grimace would be the album’s length, those vinyl-fitting 38 minutes. Staying hungry for more should feel good, though, as there’s a promise of further rapturous terrors.
*****
