Review Summary: Stripped down, scaled back, and just as effective as before
It’s going to be more experimental.
We’re taking our established sound and expanding it.
This will be our darkest record yet. So many bands make these claims before a new release, only to backpedal and make the exact same album as before. However, upon hearing the first few songs on
Starlight and Ash, it became very clear to me that Oceans of Slumber would stay true to their word and do something different this time around. Instead of continuing on with the progressive doom sound that had become their signature, they decided to pare things down and draw inspiration from the very land they were formed upon. Now, I need to make something very clear: this doesn’t mean the sextet have abandoned everything that made them who they are. You still get Cammie Gilbert’s expressive vocals, frequent dynamic shifts, and the same melancholic atmosphere the band have always been known for. However, the way they approach these elements has changed significantly.
So what do I mean by “the very land they were formed upon”? Well, it’s actually very literal:
Starlight and Ash takes the members’ Texan roots and brings them closer to the forefront. The death growls and epic song lengths have all but disappeared, making way for lean cuts of southern gothic doom
rock – yes, most of the metal has been stripped away on this project as well. Once in a while you’ll get a song like “Star Altar” or “Just a Day”, both of which harken back to the band’s earlier material, but the majority of
Starlight and Ash is spent exploring previously uncharted sonic territory. Single “The Lighthouse” was certainly a sign of things to come, marked by an acoustic guitar motif that must have been ripped straight out of an old spaghetti western movie. But other songs go even further to establish the band’s newfound experimentation, such as the hypnotic gothic rock of “The Hanging Tree” and the lovely solo piano piece “The Spring of 21”; these tunes retain Oceans of Slumber’s usual brand of melancholic beauty while taking them into exciting new directions.
The band members themselves have also scaled back their performances, and nowhere is this more important than with our two main songwriters, the spousal duo of Gilbert and drummer Dobber Beverly. Instead of frequently relying on the dramatic belting of the former and the over-the-top drum fills of the latter, both have opted for a more understated approach this time around. In the case of Gilbert, this serves to make the climaxes even more powerful; opener “The Waters Rising”, serves as a prime example, as she finally lets loose midway through the song after two minutes of anxious buildup. Combined with the ever-quickening tempo, it’s a legitimately exciting payoff. Beverly, meanwhile, has revamped his playing style to compliment each song without being too flashy; occasionally you’ll still get overly technical flights of fancy, but they’re not nearly as prominent as before. Of course, I also can’t downplay how effective the shortened song lengths are on
Starlight and Ash: despite the relative lack of metal on the record, the tightened song structures and arrangements ironically give the material much more urgency. “The Hanging Tree” and “Hearts of Stone” are just as slow and doomy as what you’ll find on previous records, but because of how much content they pack into just four minutes each, nothing comes across as meandering – a common problem with their earlier work.
With all of that said, there’s still room for improvement. For all the praise I’ve given the group for their willingness to experiment, some of the results don’t quite hit the mark. The cover of “House of the Rising Sun” is probably the worst offender, as it simply seems out of place; in fact, aside from some nice violin work, there’s not much to speak of. The song doesn’t build up to anything particularly interesting, instead opting to remain in generic ballad territory throughout its runtime; if there’s
any song on the record that could have benefitted from an explosive climax, it’s this one. Still, I have to commend Oceans of Slumber for even attempting an album like this. I suppose only time will tell whether
Starlight and Ash ends up being a transitional record or a one-off experiment, but what we received in the meantime is quite the compelling experience. Even if you’ve been disappointed with the group’s past efforts, I still suggest giving this one a try; it might just convert you.
