Review Summary: All darkness was one darkness in the end
Toning down the self-seriousness and gruesome slapstick, Midian comes blazing through the smoke left by Cruelty and the Beast at breakneck pace. Though it liberally imbibes from the same laudanum-laced well as its forebears, this is the album that marks the most abrupt stylistic shift for Cradle of Filth; a middle-ground of sorts between their golden early years and the more typical metal sounds of their Damnation-Darkly era. This iteration of the band's sound cautiously optimises their established and expected tropes, but streamlines the experience with more modernized songwriting choices, and although the record is only inching its toes beyond the black/ death amalgam they previously purveyed, it nonetheless exhibits a sense of refinement and development distinct from their formative output. Adrian Erlandsson is enlisted on drums, a stool he would occupy for four subsequent albums, and Paul Allender returns on guitar- after previously taking a breather as the band released their most enduring and best records. These additions not only pump fresh blood into the band but also into the lifeblood of the output- Allender's work here is at its finest, with the songwriting a veritable wellspring of dynamism and rousing melodic passages. Heavily inspired by the works of British horror author Clive Barker, amongst a slew of other literary influences, the album still takes a very liberal thematic approach; a trend that would continue until the release of 2008's Godspeed on the Devil's Thunder. The record feels chaotic and melodic in the way only CoF can, but also strips out a good amount of the edgy, controversy-courting imagery whilst still slathering on the gothic energy with gleeful abandon. It feels like Cradle to a fault, only with renewed energy and a more personable, approachable edge.
The theming on Midian is matched by appropriate levels of ceremony throughout, channeled via elaborate classical inclusions and powerful lyricism. Keys that thrum like an echo bouncing off of cavernous walls highlight the looming sense of dread inherent in many tracks, but are matched by keys that tinkle like a harpsichord to convey the necessary level of gothic reverence. These motifs are always fitting and steep the release with a notable classic horror vibe, and since these elements are given a lot of breathing room, they feel like integral parts to multi-movement epics rather than novel additions. Virtually all compositions on the release utilise such facets to a lesser or greater extent, but all are served incredibly well by such classical variation. Wailing choirs and whirlwind keys amount to a grand, overblown feel, full of life and verve. The chorus on 'Saffron's Curse' is especially notable, as it enlists the chiming piano accompaniment against the texture of the chorus' chundering brutality. Offset by Filth's expository yowling and Allender's thunderous chugs, the effect is one of careful balance that manifests as mordant harmony, but also unrelenting nastiness. 'Death Magick for Adepts' also employs this tactic by way of an imposing outro that is backed by an orchestral cushion, adding depth to the musical landscape but also affording credence to the thematic overtone. Following track 'Lord Abortion' is also rife with gloomy atmospherics, utilising mournful strings that flank Filth's voice as he threateningly whispers against the strains. The intensity of this song is extrapolated by the stacking of vocals lines, guitars, drums, strings and choir refrains in the latter stages of the cut, which cement the starry-eyed yet grotesque magnificence on display with striking virtuosity. Similarly, 'Tearing The Veil From Grace' is an extreme, underrated slice of Cradle at their very best- thunderous, arresting, multi-faceted and absolutely seething with dark energy, it operates from the the classic Cradle iteration as much as possible with frantic riffing, machine-gun percussion and a pronounced classical influence, but also offers instrumental segues and aggressive hardcore-esque shunts into heavier passages which give the track a more modern edge. It's not only one of the best songs on Midian, it's one of the best of CoF's career, as it showcases all of their songwriting strengths in one delirious, furious package.
The LP inherits a number of the poor mixing choices that plagued Cruelty, and whilst nowhere near as much of a hindrance to the sound, the album is robbed of a certain measure of its impact due to the production. Percussion, whilst not as rattling or frustrating as those found on their previous album, still feels thin when set against the instrumental canvas. Guitars have a distinct 'hum' to their heaviness that saps them of their bite somewhat, and the bass doesn't feel thick enough to line the interiors of the tracks. However, also much like Cruelty, the songwriting is so strong that it practically shines through and distracts from a number of the more ill-advised production choices. The whistling wind in the introduction of single 'Her Ghost In The Fog', and how it self-assuredly escalates into its pattering, gothic final form is a perfect example of this- it's carefully penned with gut-punch riffs, huge choirs, variable vocal technique and transcendent drums, and although the effect is perhaps not as distinct as it should be, the songwriting and instrumentation is so well-orchestrated that the thinness of the sound is just a slight quibble; an afterthought, rather than an overarching criticism. Dani Filth's vocal prowess has taken a slight stylistic shift from previous album also, retaining the piercing edge that ran as a central motif on that record but further experimenting with slower, lower and more spoken-word variants on this album. Such adjustments always fit the tone of the song involved, and Filth is able to pull them off with a brash, confident sneer. Doug Bradley is conscripted again to give narration on certain tracks, with the opening of 'Tortured Soul Asylum' being a noteworthy standout, his grit and gravel an appropriate scene-setter for the the depraved cut. Lurching from riff to riff with a choir trilling in the background like a demented serenade, the chaotic and memorable song crams everything and the mortuary sink into its runtime, and is a fine cut from the album on its own terms.
Midian is both a benchmark and waypoint album for Cradle. It serves as an exit point for their initial sound but also an entry point into their most accessible era, in addition to being the strongest album within this section of the band's history. What the band sacrifice in aggressive edginess they gain back in polished, digestible songwriting and a freeform concept that feels comparatively lighthearted without yielding any of the darkness or dread. The experience is overblown to be sure, and there is no shortage of cheese thanks to the thinner sound when contrasted with its predecessors. Yet, Midian is still a shining example of how passion and vision can direct a light course adjustment in sound, and still cover all aspects that had made the band's introductory albums so appealing. It's still formidable, both in length and content, and the refinement and streamlining of sound is sure to be a turnoff for some inducted under the thicker, more crushing Cradle. Despite this, there is a more visionary slant on the record; a greater sense of artistic license (as indicated by the fairytale, gothic artwork and the looser thematic elements) that beckons the band's future ever closer but still allows them to keep a tight hold on the decadent fusion they had previously staked their claim to. It's vicious, unhinged, persistently frenzied, extreme in its musicality, and not being constrained under the chains of a heavy-handed theme allows the flights of fancy the band want to indulge in to soar in a way formerly unseen. It may mark a very slight regression in quality, but it's such a different beast that Cradle have tamed here that it scarcely matters.
