Review Summary: Put the kids to bed – here come the dead.
There are species of fungus, called Cordyceps, which are parasitic largely on insects – they'll attack their host, replacing its tissue with their own so as to burst forth and spread their spores and repeat the process. The impinged-on hosts are tormented but powerless to what is essentially forced mind control, and their bodies become empty cases with alien protrusions growing out of them in peculiar, foreign shapes. For its horrific implications, the process is a natural one which benefits the ecosystems within which it operates, preventing any one species of insect from surging in number. And to that end, of completely and evilly taking over an entity, Total Depravity is the emergent stalks from the husk of The Veils.
Once steeped in sentiment and balladry, The Veils are not now the same as the nighttime noir-tists that penned the dusky Nux Vomica, or its follow-up Sun Gangs – nor even the largely off-the-radar Time Stays, We Go, which strayed slightly into the frenzy of inner turmoil by way of degrading the jangly piano rock they'd built their name on. Total Depravity is an utter deranging of that sound, a full moon-lit disfiguration with all the associated teeth and hair and blood and bile. From the first howl of “I'm glowing bright obsidian,” on opener 'Axolotl', it's clear that Finn Andrews' unmistakeable voice has been, to a degree, corrupted. What's less apparent is whether collaborations with the unhinged minds of producer El-P and famed wing nut David Lynch are the cause or effect of such scarring.
Electronic drums and synths permeate the traditional Veils sound for the first time, like brash unwelcome guests gatecrashing a peaceful commune – but it doesn't take long for them to win over the inhabitants. On 'A Bit on the Side', after these export tones announce themselves, the wiry guitars familiar to Veils fans answer them first. The two collide into one body, and Andrews surmises that “you've made your bed, now lie in it”, almost as though they've been setting themselves up for such upheaval. As far as destruction of The Veils of yore goes, though, 'King of Chrome' is the most perverse. There's something bone-chilling about the stuttering vocal delay above a purring bass synth and the heatwave of a yowling guitar, intensified by the realisation that the track is a yelped ode to the anonymous, lonely truck driver - “Truck driver, oh truck driver! First of your kind, now the sole survivor! Tell me where're you headed in the night all alone?” The crashing beat intensifies to a raucous calamity even greater than Nux Vomica's 'Jesus For The Jugular', previously the band's most turbulent work, with the melodic content slashed and the eyeballs engorged. It's the biggest hint that something dangerous is happening.
Of course, the Cordyceps parasites are nothing without their hosts, and the classic Veils identity is still able to present itself through the mire. 'Iodine & Iron' will bridge the gap for dubious listeners, a slow bar-room lament with mournful, tinkling ivories and weeping strings. “So don't plead to me now,” croons Andrews, “to be only mine. Love, you're stripping me down like turpentine.” This familiarity continues onto 'House of Spirits', with its beautiful theremin-like whispers and the insistent, stuttered repetition of “I'm not welcome in this house of spirits any more baby” thread-spun around it. It's these tracks that hint the most at some sort of undoing. Andrews talks of being erased, worn down and cast out, and the house that he's built around him since 2004's The Runaway Found is crumbling around him. “Darling, how long do I have to wait to get you alone?” he asks during 'In The Nightfall', sounding so exhausted and reticent that you have to wonder if anyone's hearing his question.
This darkest of journeys, a weathered milestone with half-gone engraving, comes to a head on the closing title track. Andrews' voice is as low as it's ever been, adding weight like a sodden tarpaulin, crying out with the helpless desperation of a man resigned to his fate: “This total depravity standing right in front of me – I try to look away and I fail”. As the moaning synths layer up, and as Andrews' wails get louder and more urgent, The Veils finally succumb to the parasites. The possession is complete. Total Depravity fades out as the dark consumes it. The husk is all that's left.
