The black-gaze pioneer’s sixth LP returns to more familiar cathartic territory with devastatingly strong effect.
Since their formation in 2010, Deafheaven have occupied something of an awkward space within the metal community; renounced by black-metal purists for their unacceptable use of dream-pop influenced ambience, but still too sonically challenging for the average listener. Yet, over their career they’ve successfully carved out a niche through an unwavering commitment to forging a musical identity which could unite the pummelling doom of black metal with the blissful atmosphere of shoegaze. If you go back to their sophomore album Sunbather and observe the critical reception, it’s clear that it worked with tremendous effect.
In the two albums which followed, New Bermuda and Ordinary Corrupt Human Love, the same unlikely pairing of sounds which naturally oppose each other was further refined into a sound which solidified the Californians as pioneers of this new genre-hybrid. Both albums were rightly critically acclaimed; somewhere in the incongruity of sound textures was a consistent symbiosis which despite the logical odds, worked. In doing so, Deafheaven’s crossover appeal opened themselves up to a much wider audience, often being the sole metal-leaning act booked for an entire festival lineup.
After veering off into new territories with the stunning but divisive Infinite Granite in 2021, their latest album sees the quintet heading back to a darker, but more familiar space. Vocalist George Clarke’s guttural howls, which were largely sacrificed on their last outing, return which such ferocity that it seems unthinkable that they were ever excluded. Infinite Granite was a commendable sidestep into a less confrontational expanse, but in doing so relinquished the frantic urgency which made their earlier work so essential. And of course, fans felt somewhat abandoned. It’s no secret that the metal community is fiercely protective of the harsher elements which categorise the genre; if there’s no screams emanating from the darkest crevasses of the soul, it might as well be pop music.
Perhaps the records greatest strength is its diversity. Three creeping spoken word interludes (one of which features Paul Banks of Interpol) seamlessly interlink the album. On tracks like Magnolia and Revelator we hear Deafheaven at their most confrontational, the latter clearly drawing influence from the breakneck thrash metal of Anthrax and Slayer. The haunting closer The Marvellous Orange Tree shimmers with ethereal beauty before being sucked into a vortex of harsh noise as Clarke shrieks the closing words; ‘with my ending illness, walking into blackness’. Lyrically, it’s a departure from the youthful yearning of the Sunbather era, as we’re plunge into more an ambiguous, more emotionally detached realm which is dominated by themes of spiritual emptiness and alienation.
The album’s strongest songs however, are indicative of a welded perfection between the harsher industrial sound from early days with their growing control over atmospheric texture. Winona and Amethyst serve as an example of how their idiosyncratic sound has evolved over time into a finely tuned formula of noises which are rarely competing for total supremacy. The latter track, could be in contention for the finest piece of music they’ve ever produced. Beginning with Clarke’s pensive spoken word intro; ‘what is life? I don’t know. All I know is it’s price’, before mutating into a soaring mid-section of brutal guitar work and watertight drumming, and finally crashing back down to earth with the same wistful lure which is regularly present throughout the album’s 62 minute run time. One of the comments on YouTube summarised it nicely; Stairway to Deafheaven.
Calling Lonely People With Power a return to form would be somewhat inaccurate, given the unassuming brilliance of Infinite Granite. Nor is it a reinvention, as musically it feels like a return to a more familiar sound which has defined the majority of Deafheaven’s creative output. Instead, it feels like a band in complete command of the sub-genre which they themselves helped popularise; combining the brutality of Sunbather with the melodic beauty of Infinite Granite into a triumphant synthesis of cathartic noise. Whilst it may not have the seismic impact that Sunbather did, it serves as hard proof that this band are masters of the blackgaze sub-genre. Pulling together everything they’ve learnt along the way, they might have just made their best album yet.
