Review Summary: Seven Sisters fulfils the promise of their masterful debut by emphasising their progressive inclinations to produce a modern-day British metal classic.
Little was heard from Seven Sisters on the recording front for a while after the release of their charming self-titled debut, with the band largely spending their time touring across Europe and the UK in support of that album. That changed in August 2017, when the band announced a record deal with upstart British metal label Dissonance Productions, which was marked with the release of a thrashy, speed-addled one-off single entitled "The Witch's Eye" (included on Dissonance's
British Steel compilation). As the band saw out the rest of the year holed up in London's Knight Time Studios, speculation was building in the wake of that single's release, peaking as
The Cauldron and the Cross was announced on March 8, 2018, accompanied by a brief, Queensrÿche-esque teaser clip which comfortably proved that the single was not an accurate representation of things to come, but left fans none the wiser as to just what was in store for them. Expectations were sky-high, but after all the curveballs, many simply hoped that the album could even match its predecessor, let alone better it. At exactly one and a half years since
Seven Sisters lobbed, the album's eventual release on Friday, 13 April marked the longest wait for a Seven Sisters release thus far - but most importantly, it quelled all fears, for McNeill and company have delivered a record which, simply put, is a quantum leap ahead of anything that had come before in their career.
First things first:
The Cauldron and the Cross is, like its predecessor, a concept album: in this case, one based on Marion Zimmer Bradley's 1983 retelling of Arthurian legend,
The Mists of Avalon. It also boasts a lot of solos. That is where the similarities end - a point that the frenetic opening track, "The Premonition", is quick to make, as it opts to jettison the slow-building intro of the first album in favour of simply going for the throat with a trademark Farmer solo - subtly introduced by wailing whammy-bar action, of course. Not to be outdone, McNeill follows up with an equally crazed solo of his own, before plunging into the first verse at rapid pace, holding on for dear life with every note he sings, backed by riff after riff and combining with drummer Steve Loftin's heretofore unheralded percussive dexterity to simply blow the listener's mind from the get-go. The more humanly paced "Blood and Fire" follows, further establishing the album's concept as it walks the listener through the pagan Beltane ritual. The tune climaxes with an atmospheric bridge which neatly showcases the album's newfound sonic perfection, with guitars, vocals and particularly drums alike seemingly descended from Eighties metal heaven; only one and a half songs in, and it's already clear that this is a massive step up for all involved. The pace picks up a bit with "Once and Future King", soaked in shredded twin leads and blessed with the first of this album's many muscular choruses which had somehow eluded most of Sisters' previous efforts.
The Cauldron and the Cross truly hits its stride with the appearance of "Parting the Mists", the aforementioned Queensrÿche-esque tune from the teaser. In the context of the album, its introduction comes across as more of a knowing nod and a wink to that band (along with a certain concept album they were responsible for), and gives way to a thrilling, hooky, mid-paced juggernaut of a tune which sees McNeill successfully complement his charismatic delivery with fast, powerful verse riffing to devastating effect. Nothing in that song, however, can possibly prepare anyone for the following "Turning of the Tide", which is an unqualified classic: twin-lead intro, evocative stand-up-and-fight lyric delivered by a chorus carrying the force of a thousand seas, jaw-dropping lead break, and even a neat bass solo through the middle eight for newcomer Javi Rute to show his talents, all encapsulated in five-and-a-quarter minutes of utter perfection.
The album's second side opens with the wildcard track here, "Oathbreaker", which turns out to be a proper metal power ballad, done just as they were in the golden days: clean verses, huge choruses, massive guitar solo - basically everything which is guaranteed to get crowds singing, arms waving and lighters aloft. Unlike the golden days, however, the subject matter (as dictated by the album's concept) steers the song well away from cheese and gooey sentimentality, guaranteeing that Sisters' gamble is successful, whilst its evocation of top tearjerkers from the likes of Dokken and the Scorpions (by way of Yngwie Malmsteen) is clearly the work of someone with a true appreciation of the form, and surely will win over those who are similarly minded.
The Cauldron and the Cross pins the throttle wide open, sounds the horns and lyrically charges into battle with the simply furious "A Land in Darkness", easily the heaviest tune on the album; it takes the speedy approach of the opening track and bolsters it with Loftin's arm-flailing double-bass assault, a healthy dose of progressivism (in terms of dynamic contrast, it's a rollercoaster ride), riffs galore and naturally, more solos.
The epic two-part title track closes the album; part one is more attuned to those with traditional tastes, and arguably better off for it. A relatively calm ninety-second dual-guitar solo introduces the track, with the storm arriving in the form of gorgeous twin-lead work, easily the album's best, set to galloping riffs. McNeill proves once again that a virtuosic voice is not a requirement to drive home a soaring chorus strong enough to raise the dead; this song matches the aforementioned "Turning of the Tide" in that department alone, but the truly inspired songwriting on display here - this seven-minute behemoth never feels anywhere near as long as it is - elevates it well beyond that level. The cheeky choice of a waltzing outro, showcasing another McNeill/Farmer duel, is merely icing on the cake. Meanwhile, part two opens reflectively with a largely unaccompanied McNeill and lush acoustic guitar, but it's not long before the fireworks start again: Farmer announces his presence with another dive-bombed lead run that will put a smile on any shredder's dial. As before, riffs are galloped, but part two sees McNeill venting his progressive compositional kinks by means of an extended instrumental break, ultimately making for a song which, while still interesting, is perhaps less energetic than its predecessor, feeling more like a song of its length. By this point, however, the sheer momentum generated by the rest of the album easily catapults the listener through the lengthy instrumental passages, and for those willing to stay the distance, Seven Sisters still takes great care to end the album with a bang (hint: more shredding).
Long story short, there's nary a duff track or even complaint to be had; any single one of these tunes would've been the undisputed highlight of their last album, were the two not so stylistically different. The album's greatest success is arguably not in the stellar quality of its songwriting or performances, but the fact that the songs (with perhaps the exception of the last) hold up as well individually as the album does as a whole; in that respect, it is superior to many a well-regarded concept album. That, and while the debut may have sounded like it had no obvious fathers, the band's various influences are far more tightly integrated on this effort - but for those who insist on seeking a reference for comparison, far more of this album's DNA can be found in the classic work of Angel Witch, Helloween and Yngwie Malmsteen than any lazy, clichéd comparison with Iron Maiden would have you believe. But as was the case before, the jury is out on whether they can even top this effort. The odds are on their side, for they have already managed to outdo all expectations once.
