Review Summary: Weed, cowgirls, Black Sabbath, & the blues
Wo Fat's idea of the blues involves a generous helping of distortion and very little concern for the neighbors. On their 2016 album
Midnight Cometh, the Texans take its earthy palette for a ride into the murkier world of Sabbath riffs, psychedelic instrumental-led explorations, and swamp boogie. The ominous sleeve looks perfectly at home beside that mixture. There is smoke hanging over practically everything, but the musicians know their way through it. They can write a tune, too, which gives all that amplified mischief a creative outlet to set free.
The devotion to the blues runs considerably deeper than a handful of solos written in the minor pentatonic scale. It shapes the riffs, the singing and the way the songs move, giving even the most heavily distorted material a recognizable warmth. Kent Stump can make a lead sound plaintive before sending it into a wah-drenched frenzy, with something of Hendrix's abandon in the latter. His playing retains its melody throughout those flights, and the leads seem to grow naturally from the riffs. The guitar's bulk never seems to deprive him of flexibility. Rough-edged boogie, doom-laden chords, and touches of funk all come together naturally in their playing.
Much of that freedom comes from the musicians beside him. Michael Walter's drumming has the punch to keep up with the distortion, with snare fills and changes of pattern that help steer the jams. He responds to the guitar as it develops an idea, while the bass maintains the weight and forward motion. I can't help but marvel at their tight chemistry. The occasional cowbell adds a little essential hillbilly-like cheek, and the hand percussion gives the rhythms another dimension beyond the usual crash of a heavy rock kit. On
Le Dilemme de Detenu, the harder guitar attack eventually gives way to a funkier swing. The change feels entirely natural because the rhythm section has been so involved all along.
The production lets you hear that involvement. Guitar and bass form a dense, rumbling mass, with enough definition for the drum accents and smaller details to emerge. The full, earthy recording also accommodates the band's grasp of dynamics. Even the forceful opening of
There's Something Sinister in the Wind leaves the impression of power held in reserve. As the musicians push further into its instrumental second half, the growing intensity has somewhere to lead. They do not have to spend the entire song at the same level to make it sound heavy.
Stump's vocals fit this music with an unforced, slightly ragged confidence. His relaxed delivery keeps the blues connection audible, while the choruses have enough character to stick after the guitar has wandered off again.
Riffborn is a particularly direct example, its refrain providing a memorable starting point for another bout of instrumental activity. The singing is relatively sparse across the album, yet it gives the listener useful bearings. A recognizable melody or recurring hook can give even the longest compositions a sense of direction without limiting the musicians' freedom to explore whatever ideas come their way. The vocal harmonies also lend some of the bigger moments a welcome lift.
Their control of those longer developments is among the record's most enjoyable qualities.
Of Smoke and Fog makes room for reverberant blues, cymbal detail and a gradually gathering charge before Stump lets his wah-pedal loose. When the earlier mood returns, it feels like a destination the group has been working towards. Familiar schematics remain discernible even when the playing becomes almost unruly. These guys clearly revel in extended improvisation and possess an instinctive understanding of how to make that enthusiasm equally rewarding for the listener.
That deduction extends to the sequencing.
Of Smoke and Fog and
Nightcomer provide an extended conclusion to each side, distributing the album's larger instrumental statements instead of saving everything for one closing epic. It is a useful departure from the seventeen-minute
Dreamwalker that ended
The Conjuring. The darker bearing of
Nightcomer, with its vocal harmonies and concluding jam, brings the record to a suitably imposing finish. The six-song CD and digital sequence runs for roughly forty-nine minutes, with changes in pace and attack keeping the whole performance lively.
I have heard enough of this idiom for
Midnight Cometh to offer relatively few surprises. That slightly limits the sense of discovery, but Wo Fat's command of it remains a considerable draw. They sound thoroughly committed to the blues even when they are making an almighty racket with it and I hope they continue on this trail of bludgeoning heavy metal for years to come. Billy Gibbons couldn’t have been prouder.
Recommended tracks:
Every
Single
One
