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THE SKULL
The Endless Road Turns Dark

Tee Pee (2018)
Rating: 9/10

Bringing with it endless bursts of grey rain showers, thunder claps and humidity is The Endless Road Turns Dark, the second slab of ultra-heavy concrete from the Eric Wagner led The Skull – the natural drizzle-soaked progression on from Trouble.

The American band and its sound should need no introduction and this sophomore effort just rumbles like a brewing storm, casting long and ominous shadows of weirdness and leaving peculiar layers of soot in its wake. Forty-three minutes of Gothic horror and morose meandering are offered from this despondent assembly of misery dwellers, all enshrouded in a cloud of ill-fumed guitar grinds, black, syrupy percussion and a bass that oozes like fetid treacle.

This is doom. Nothing more, nothing less… and there’s nothing better as a lightning-scorched solo caves its way across the pallid sky like fizzing streaks of electricity. Wagner’s sullen tone bemoans “We are gathered here today, can you hear him calling”, and already I’m boarding up the windows. But I’m not sure that’s just hard hail tapping on the windows or the spindly, gnarled fingers of some ethereal entity I’ve accidentally conjured while spinning this mighty tome. Blow off the dust then and turn the yellowed pages of this oaken tapestry.

The opening title track just creeps with eeriness and malevolence, the guitar sound acting as thick waves of creepiness with each percussive nod a mere accomplice to the thunder cracks. Everything about the song stinks of dark corners, ghostly whispers and drizzle, and even as a solo attempts to combat the dusty gusts the gloom just thickens all around it; the air grows thick as Wagner – adorned in black – stands alone, almost despondent yet tired of booming out ignored warnings of incoming horror. But he remains master storyteller of the grim and foreboding, and even when the band slips into psych tinged 70s kaleidoscopic nightmares it still remains stormy and thunderous.

‘Ravenswood’ barely ups the tempo from its predecessor except for flightier tones, but as soon as Wagner groans “There is someone following me” I’m finding myself glancing over my shoulder, wrapped up in some gloopy soundtrack to an M.R. James or Edgar Allen Poe ghost tale as the band languidly and with added lachrymal quality sweeps with majesty, grace and heaving dread.

Everything about the album aches with suspense, the pitter-patter of raindrops ever-present as another peel of thunder vibrates the bones and ‘Breathing Underwater’ begins its journey. The track initially conjures images of old motel signs flapping in the grey breeze before that immense rumble of drum, bass and guitar causes further slow-motion quakes and treacle tremors, until the respite of a dribbling bass and trickling guitar introduces Wagner’s subtle questioning… “Oh father forgive me, have I done something wrong?” Such masterly lyrics heave with simplicity, but that’s the joy of everything Wagner laces and caresses; his whispers, groans and commands effortlessly sweep you up with autumnal leaves.

‘The Longing’ begins like a grandiose 70s stadium rock tune only bathed in darker, grungier light; the tides of doom labouring with glory as Brian Dixon’s (ex-Cathedral) unearthly sticks batter like iron bars collapsing skulls. Meanwhile, ‘From Myself Depart’ emerges on Ron Holzner’s clever bass, adding an almost stark and bluesy slickness to Wagner’s equally unadorned tones before the sporadic blazing guitar fizzes in. This is The Skull at their rawest yet most evocative, even when the blubbery riff rolls in; axe masters Rob Wrong (Witch Mountain) and Lothar Keller (Sacred Dawn) cause crows to flutter in their droves and bats to flit frantically. But it’s when the track picks up in its pace we realise the true unholy and melancholic joys of The Skull; a beast in full flight that stirs up tumbleweeds and cracks castle walls in its might.

It’s difficult then to look beyond ‘From Myself Depart’ as a favourite track. Unless of course you’re willing to be steamrolled by the chugging menace of ‘As The Sun Draws Near’ with its fine lead work and stormy bellows. But then again, ‘All That Remains (Is True)’ is equally fog-drenched, with Wagner’s subtle breath stirring the candle flame as behind him the drums become ghostly taps. Indeed, this is The Skull opting for an almost balladic-style of misery and it’s right up there with Trouble’s most disconcerting yet weeping melodies.

Album closer ‘Thy Will Be Done’ is another riff-monster cloaked in darkness, and adds further weight to the downpour as the pace slows to a portentous secretion. “There’s sadness everywhere” Wagner mourns. Probably more of an apt title then for such a behemoth of a peat-bog record that stands like a stone guardian daubed in grey and battered by the weather. And yet through every season such sounds of despondency and dread remain; aging yes, though always relevant but without date or real motion.

That’s why The Skull’s latest album is so moving and moody; gracefully casting big, suffocating shadows while existing somehow out of time, only fully present in the musical genre it has made its own. This is real doom metal… or maybe just real metal, or just real music; The Endless Road Turns Dark beckoning like some earthen yet non-specific force that I’m unable to resist.

There’s nothing fancy about the overall sound The Skull produces, but like every storm which brews, acts then passes there remains an air of magnificence that causes the hairs on the back of the neck to stand.

Neil Arnold

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