ALBUM REVIEW: Sounds Of The Forgotten – Witherfall
Many have tried and many have failed to carve out their own niche in the congested gene pool that is metal’s subgenres. No, we’re not referring to SLEEP TOKEN’s accidental invention of #SexyMetal (we have TikTok to thank for that), but an example of a band legitimately creating categorical novelty in a world full of redundant labels. WITHERFALL are a ‘dark melodic metal’ band and, whether the name is befitting or not, there’s no doubt their theatrical style of heavy metal, progressive metal, and power metal deserves its own hole for a pigeon to be put through (we promise this analogy makes sense). Three years ago the band completed a hat-trick of remarkable records with 2021’s Curse Of Autumn, an album that saw this very vision fully realised. It was just shy of perfection and it seemed the band’s next step was destined to close that final gap – only, upon their return in 2024, they’ve not quite hit the mark.
Sounds Of The Forgotten (SOTF), WITHERFALL’s fourth LP, is a small step backwards. The reasons as to why are no complicated matter, the band have delivered more of the same, it simply doesn’t reach, let alone surpass, the high bar they’ve set themselves to follow. Curse Of Autumn felt like a Greek tragedy powered by thundering riffs and haunting wails. It was unique, bursting with character, and at times unapologetically outlandish. SOTF, while still a capable and entertaining album, can often lack direction from A to B and, to be frank, delivers performances that are totally undermined by those of its predecessors. As a whole, it’s an album that sadly leaves listeners wanting more, regardless of its redeeming strengths.
Nevertheless, there is plenty to be excited about on SOFT. First and foremost, the album is distinctly WITHERFALL, with the songwriting duo of guitarist Jake Dryer and vocalist Joseph Michael providing the signature histrionics that help this homemade dark melodic metal label so distinct. Like their identity, their knack for crafting compelling song structures and narratives remains potent. The one-two opener of They Will Let You Down and Where Do I Begin? is a stroke of genius, the former introducing us to wild and erratic riffs and galloping drums while Michael delivers chilling, operatic notes. Where Do I Begin? follows as the first of the album’s ballads, a genuinely sombre tale that sings to the creatives of the world that have lost hope in their arts and urges them to keep going. The title track is an equally touching but empowering moment and arguably the album’s strongest. The graceful string plucks that brush against Michael’s howls before transforming into a chug and chop stomper puts the track upon a pedestal among the band’s finest.
The remainder of the tracklist is frustratingly mixed. There are no bad songs, just flawed ones. Insidious and Ceremony Of Fire wrap up the album’s first half and, despite the band’s record of writing songs beyond the average length, feel tiringly bloated. Insidious floats its almost seven-minute runtime with an uninspired hook and a painstaking mid-section ‘narrative’ which, while adding to the band’s penchant for theatrics, is not executed with the grace of previous work. If it weren’t for the track’s wonderfully realised instrumentation, with Dryer and drummer Marco Minnemann stealing the show, the song would have little legs to stand on. Ceremony Of Fire is perhaps even more irritating in its betrayed potential. It’s a long, complex opus with all the tropes of the band’s best work but it is let down rather comically by its whimpering chorus that possesses all the charisma of a slowly deflating balloon. It’s a mystery that elements like these would flaw the band where they have previously excelled so greatly.
SOTF, like its predecessors, is segmented by bitesize interludes which, instead of building a complimentary bridge between songs, provide awkward roadblocks that remove any sense of momentum across the tracklist. A Lonely Path attempts to set the tone for Insidious’ titular mood but struggles to achieve much over a minute-and-a-half and would likely have made more sense to bolt onto the song itself as opposed to being a separate entity.
The album’s second half mercifully recaptures its strength. The three-track charge to the finish is a delightful mix of ballads, Spanish acoustic and prog-inspired odysseys that, while not holding a candle close enough to the likes of discography highlights such as …And They All Blew Away or The River from Curse Of Autumn, they certainly cleanse the palate from the tracklist’s otherwise spotty appearance.
With over a decade to their name as WITHERFALL, and even longer among other projects, it could be that the cracks of time are beginning to show on this portrait of pantomime. It could also, however, be a mere misstep that holds no bearing on the band’s future. After all, Sounds Of The Forgotten is a good album, it’s just that ‘good’ isn’t really what WITHERFALL fans have come to expect. This is a group of immense talent that can easily capture the minds and hearts of thousands, that hasn’t changed – and one way or another, there’s no doubt they will return to show us why.
Rating: 7/10
Sounds Of The Forgotten is set for release on May 31st via DeathWave Records.
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