Review Summary: Quick rite of hardcore: fix for your attention span, grind for your bones
Does darkness always have to sound ‘dark’? Or, sometimes, does it just slap like a trawler’s worth of dead fish? I’m unsure and unconcerned; for all Shapeshifter’s new record
Dark Ritual kind-of invites such questions, its fleeting playtime is so bracing that this is probably the wrong way in. The right way? Pah, not hard to find: this record bulldozes the damn door down, taking most of the house with it in surely one of the most blistering performances of the year so far (this whole week of it). Let’s parse it: Shapeshifter play a mean, mean strain of hardcore that flirts cursively with blackened hardcore, swaps scents with noise, and fucks like Hercules with grind. They cut no corners on speed or savagery, yet they’re deceptively approachable thanks to well-formed songwriting and considerate pacing;
Dark Ritual’s appeal is far from grind-exclusive and I think it can make a strong case to an audience outside its niche.
It’s also a bloody good record. Are you satisfied?
If not, two things in particular jump out at me. The first is that
Dark Ritual sounds nigh on perfect: I’ve seen it tagged (fairly) as sludge and crust, which set me up for surprise when I took in just how crisply produced it is.
Loud (shock horror) and
dry are the first words that come to mind; it’s fiercely kinetic from moment-to-moment, but avoids bloating itself out or making a show of its superficial qualities. This sparks joy. Compare, for instance, to genre darlings Portrayal of Guilt, who only a couple months ago brought us a bemusing showcase of crust and sludge’s’ murkiest aesthetics as camouflage for deep-running songwriting failings and edgy pandering. Not so here: Shapeshifter’s sound is jagged and raw, leaving it to the intensity of their performances to flesh out the album’s brutality. Granted, this relationship leaves little room for sloppy recordings or limp ideas, but this is vindicated because neither is to be found.
Dark Ritual it may be, but there are no skeletons in this closet.
On which note, the second thing comes in another rather pointless yet collaterally revealing question: where’s the ritual? This record’s violence and aggression are front and centre; it neither tries nor needs to saddle itself with the weight of ceremony or the protractedness of atmosphere. Any dark qualities on display here are channelled straight into energy; Shapeshifter don’t care to cloak themselves in gloom. What they absolutely do care for is noise, presented in dedicated interspersions and afforded a piercing level of clarity by the production. These forays technically occupy an interlude role, but feel so essential to the album’s wider knack for space and pace control that this category is overly derogatory. Space and pace, say? Uh, yes - if there’s a whiff of the odd clandestine micro-ritual here, it’s the degree to which the record continually refreshes itself without majorly varying its approach. Albums like this are so often so-much-so-fast that it’s a waste of time to try navigating them song-by-song, but
Dark Ritual have a keen sense for when their audience should be catching their breath. Their noise-buffers are impeccably placed, perfect for recharging that precious attention span in between the flurry and fury of each cut. By the start of each track I found myself as eager to soak up more specific details as to get carried away by the onslaught. Maybe this record lacks ritualistic mystique, but with such a tangible shape, would it really benefit from skulking in darkness?
