With one look at the artwork for The Atlas Moth's new album The Old Believer, you can tell something is… wrong. It's like there is something we are missing, something hidden just below the surface.
The woman on the cover looks regal and disturbed at the same time, all whilst an unsettling, esoteric emblem hangs above her head like a cryptic halo. There is a palpable sense of unease about the album just from looking at the cover.
This uneasy feeling evolves into dread as the artwork beneath the pallid white top layer is revealed upon being submerged in water: it is the same regal women, only now she is surrounded by gothic architectural darkness.
Her flesh is shorn away, revealing only a bleached skull; the esoteric symbol above transforms into a sickly red, neon sign. Of course — as the band has reassured its fans — once the water dries, the image returns to its original state.
The stunning transformation that the artwork undergoes is a perfect vehicle for describing The Atlas Moth's sonic journey on The Old Believer. The first thing listeners will notice is the balanced interplay between the harsh vocals and singing. Most of the tracks on The Old Believer feature a good deal more clean singing than the band's previous efforts, which allows for more moments of melody and, dare I say, catchy choruses (listen to "The Sea Beyond"). Guitarist David Kush's gravelly, whiskey-soaked vocals rise above the dense atmospheric mix to offer melancholic soliloquies. Guitarist Stavros Giannopoulos' grating, black metal-esque vocals (think Ihsahn) add just enough harshness to the band's sound for fans of the extreme to latch onto, especially on moments like the end of "Wynona," where Giannopoulos' tortured, soul-shredding screams leave listeners drained. The close interplay between layered screams and hoarse yowling — which is particularly effective on stand-out tracks "The Sea Beyond" and "City of Light"— provides an interesting and fitting juxtaposition to some of the album's lighter moments. Who am I kidding? This band does not do "light." The Old Believer is an all-around heavy album both sonically and emotionally. Period.
The Atlas Moth replaced their drummer before recording The Old Believer; but, despite the line-up shake-up, the band's rhythm section remains solid and lays down grooves with authority on each of the ten tracks. However, the guitars and atmospherics are the MVPs on this album. The band fully utilizes their three guitar attack with an abundance of multi-part harmonies and spacey octave riffs. Atmospheric effects, equal parts dreamy and eerie, are then layered over the sludgy foundations. "Halcyon Blvd's" intro features a soft synth line that evokes some of the sounds heard previously on An Ache for the Distance before evolving into an echoing guitar-led riff. "City of Light" also opens with synth; this time it's an arpeggiated analog line accompanied by an airy pad, sounding like something that could have easily come from a Zombi record (at least until the vocals kick in). The track "Collider" even features guitar effects that bring old sci-fi laser sounds to mind. All the effects, delays, big reverbs, synths, and layering leaves the mix very dense, and at times it is hard to dissect exactly what's going on. But then again, this isn't a record to pick apart. Let its entirety wash over you; worship the sacred noise.
The Old Believer is, for the most part, built upon a solid foundation of mid-tempo tracks that cruise through 51 minutes of playtime, which is my one grievance with the album. Many of the songs seem to plod along at the same tempo, offering little variation and feeding from the energy of previous tracks. This presents a problem as the album seems to lose its momentum around the half-way mark. However, stand-out tracks like the excellent "The Sea Beyond" and the title track, make up for the perceived momentum loss and homogeny. The Atlas Moth have made an Old Believer out of me. Are you ready to convert? The title track calls to us all: "We have a place for you here / Tune to our frequency / Leave your friends behind / Break with your decency / And peace will find you."
Words: Ian Fetters
The Atlas Moth @ Facebook
The woman on the cover looks regal and disturbed at the same time, all whilst an unsettling, esoteric emblem hangs above her head like a cryptic halo. There is a palpable sense of unease about the album just from looking at the cover.
This uneasy feeling evolves into dread as the artwork beneath the pallid white top layer is revealed upon being submerged in water: it is the same regal women, only now she is surrounded by gothic architectural darkness.
Her flesh is shorn away, revealing only a bleached skull; the esoteric symbol above transforms into a sickly red, neon sign. Of course — as the band has reassured its fans — once the water dries, the image returns to its original state.
The stunning transformation that the artwork undergoes is a perfect vehicle for describing The Atlas Moth's sonic journey on The Old Believer. The first thing listeners will notice is the balanced interplay between the harsh vocals and singing. Most of the tracks on The Old Believer feature a good deal more clean singing than the band's previous efforts, which allows for more moments of melody and, dare I say, catchy choruses (listen to "The Sea Beyond"). Guitarist David Kush's gravelly, whiskey-soaked vocals rise above the dense atmospheric mix to offer melancholic soliloquies. Guitarist Stavros Giannopoulos' grating, black metal-esque vocals (think Ihsahn) add just enough harshness to the band's sound for fans of the extreme to latch onto, especially on moments like the end of "Wynona," where Giannopoulos' tortured, soul-shredding screams leave listeners drained. The close interplay between layered screams and hoarse yowling — which is particularly effective on stand-out tracks "The Sea Beyond" and "City of Light"— provides an interesting and fitting juxtaposition to some of the album's lighter moments. Who am I kidding? This band does not do "light." The Old Believer is an all-around heavy album both sonically and emotionally. Period.
The Atlas Moth replaced their drummer before recording The Old Believer; but, despite the line-up shake-up, the band's rhythm section remains solid and lays down grooves with authority on each of the ten tracks. However, the guitars and atmospherics are the MVPs on this album. The band fully utilizes their three guitar attack with an abundance of multi-part harmonies and spacey octave riffs. Atmospheric effects, equal parts dreamy and eerie, are then layered over the sludgy foundations. "Halcyon Blvd's" intro features a soft synth line that evokes some of the sounds heard previously on An Ache for the Distance before evolving into an echoing guitar-led riff. "City of Light" also opens with synth; this time it's an arpeggiated analog line accompanied by an airy pad, sounding like something that could have easily come from a Zombi record (at least until the vocals kick in). The track "Collider" even features guitar effects that bring old sci-fi laser sounds to mind. All the effects, delays, big reverbs, synths, and layering leaves the mix very dense, and at times it is hard to dissect exactly what's going on. But then again, this isn't a record to pick apart. Let its entirety wash over you; worship the sacred noise.
The Old Believer is, for the most part, built upon a solid foundation of mid-tempo tracks that cruise through 51 minutes of playtime, which is my one grievance with the album. Many of the songs seem to plod along at the same tempo, offering little variation and feeding from the energy of previous tracks. This presents a problem as the album seems to lose its momentum around the half-way mark. However, stand-out tracks like the excellent "The Sea Beyond" and the title track, make up for the perceived momentum loss and homogeny. The Atlas Moth have made an Old Believer out of me. Are you ready to convert? The title track calls to us all: "We have a place for you here / Tune to our frequency / Leave your friends behind / Break with your decency / And peace will find you."
Words: Ian Fetters
The Atlas Moth @ Facebook