Review Summary: Doom-punk never sounded so good
One thing that sets Saint Vitus apart from the other founding pillars of doom metal is their pronounced punk influence. Being on SST certainly made the connection obvious, but it also manifested in their slowed down punk progression-based songwriting, guitarist David Chandler’s chaotic noodling reminiscent of Greg Ginn, and vocalist Scott Reager’s Jello Biafra-on-acid warbling. The expected echoes of Sabbath, Hendrix, and Blue Cheer among others can also be felt throughout, but they seem almost supplementary compared to the likes of Trouble or Pentagram.
The band’s musicianship also has an idiosyncratic flair as the extreme lo-fi production and blunt riffs are bolstered by some off-the-wall playing. Chandler is the band’s focal point with his feedback-driven solos and fuzzy tone shaping the mood while Reagers’s wail has an endearingly unhinged quality that suits the often uncanny lyrics while holding to a wavering melodic quality. The rhythm section also does a lot to stand out as bassist Mark Adam provides a sturdy backbone during the solos while drummer Armando Acosta seems to be one of few drummers who truly understood the Bill Ward technique, combining busy percussion with odd timings on a kit that feels like it’ll fall apart at any second.
The influence is especially apparent during the album’s first half, starting things off on an upbeat note. The band’s self-titled song is an immediate winner with a riff that feels like an especially warped version of “Holiday in Cambodia” accompanied by driving drums and catchy back-and-forth vocals. “White Magic/Black Magic” follows it up with an especially clanging drum beat and declarative lyrics while “Zombie Hunger” adjusts to a more mid-tempo pace with bottom-heavy riffs and vocals dipping into an appropriately horror aesthetic.
Once you get to the last couple songs, the album’s dark atmosphere becomes the primary driving force as the tempos reach their most slothful yet. I love how “The Psychopath” sees the vocals and lead guitars working together to create an especially ghostly aura perfectly suited to its drawn out asylum escape narrative. “Burial at Sea” takes a step even further, closing the album out on its most morose riff set.
Much like Sabbath’s own start, the template on Saint Vitus’s self-titled debut has been utilized by plenty of followers but almost none have truly tapped into its essence. That raw production and the musicians’ playing styles are damn near impossible to replicate and the compositions have an anachronistic appeal; this doom-punk fusion has proven hard to pull off without letting the hardcore take over. The band would find ways to subsequently tinker with the formula, but it’s impressive to see how they got it perfectly right the first time.
