Review Summary: Reliably rocking.
Don’t ever claim that Tad Doyle isn’t adaptable. In a career spanning nearly three decades, Doyle has proven himself to be a hard rock Renaissance Man: after fronting influential grunge band TAD for 11 years, Doyle tried his hand at sludgy, hook-oriented hard rock and metal as the creative force behind Hog Molly and Hoof. 15 years and one TAD reunion later, Doyle has worked his way into something heavier with Brothers of the Sonic Cloth’s debut eponymous LP.
The album makes it immediately clear that the shadow of Doyle’s own output doesn’t restrict his vision. Opener “Lava” recalls Doyle’s earlier work (albeit with a touch more menace), establishing itself with a groovy drum pattern before transitioning into a chord progression and aggressive vocal line that seem to be leading to a hook that never comes. It’s a tease of a track, a flirtation with expectation that, if unresolved musically, feels final: “This is what I used to do, listen to what I do now.” And what Brothers of the Sonic Cloth does now is bring the ***ing doom. “Empires of Dust” dispenses with the promises of hooks, focusing on atmosphere and heaviness. It’s a traditional doom track, and a really solid one at that. Bassist Peggy Doyle and drummer Dave French lay a typically heavy rhythmic foundation while Tad carries the melody with an emotive and appropriately gloomy ascending guitar line. His vocal performance, on “Empires of Dust” and elsewhere, oscillates between singing and barks, approximating a slightly less intelligible Jus Oborn.
The first half of this record (through “Unnamed”) is built around “The Sound” in all its violence and intensity. The band presents a sludgy but traditional brand of doom metal, focused more around crushing production than riffs. If melody appears, it’s usually stunted and repetitive, sacrificing variation and complexity for hypnosis and headnodditude. Rhythm and dynamics are the foci.
I hope I’m not painting the album as an excessively derivative doom metal record. It certainly pulls liberally from the tropes of the genre, particularly in its less atmospheric sections where the band falls back on down-tuned heaviness. But there are still plenty of moments in which Doyle and company surprise. Look to the rapid tempo shift in the middle of “La Mano Poderosa” which starts with a funky drum pattern and dissolves into a swirl of guitar noise, the intricately layered opening section of “I Am” which seriously wouldn’t sound out of place on an Incubus record. In moments like these, Tad Doyle’s wealth of songwriting experience is most evident. He fastens together oddly fitting musical ideas so smoothly that you can barely see the rivets. The mood isn’t broken but enhanced.
These moments of musical weirdness largely occur in the back half of the record, culminating in the menacing and ethereal “The Immutable Path”, a track composed principally of a steadfast drum beat (hence the song title) and droning tones. Doyle sings flatly above the fray: “Where the river ends, the ocean begins.” Hopefully this record signifies a foray into the ocean for Tad Doyle, an ambitious journey into something deep.
