As Aldous Huxley once wrote, "The charm of history and its enigmatic lesson consist in the fact that, from age to age, nothing changes and yet everything is completely different." Though our dystopian visionary surely meant to slyly reference far more sinister puppet masters with his damning and oh-so-quotable bon mot, the unruly hellions pulling rock’n’roll’s nylon strings are less inclined to read between the lines. They prefer to go back to basics but slap a few fresh coats of paint on there to keep things sparkling. The song remains the same, and on The Eldritch Dark, Blood Ceremony follows that axiom with near-religious fervor.
Every chord and whisper harkens back to an earlier Aquarian age, when paisley and peyote ruled supreme and leather fringe wasn’t just for your dad’s musty old biker jacket. Their longtime fixation on 70s rock, Sabbathian riffage, and 60s psych is well-documented and undeniable, and an enduring fascination with dark legend and wild lore charts their pagan’s progress from harvest moon to Midsummer’s night eve. The third album from this Canadian collective is their strongest yet, and clear proof that while yes, everything old is new again, there are a scant few armed with the passion and power to craft something worth revisiting. Blood Ceremony just make it look easy.
“Witchwood” begins with a howling lead and hauls out the Hammond organ, vamping and swaying along beneath Alia O’Brien’s husky croon. This down-to-earth high priestess has got her hands full wielding the microphone, manipulating the vintage organ keys, and trilling away like Jethro Tull with her signature flute whilst conducting the band’s blackest of masses. The Satanic element one has come to expect from the recent glut of “occult rock” bands is absent, and in its stead lie mysteries far more titillating and obscure. The old gods hold court amongst the evils and enchantments that populate Blood Ceremony’s world. Capering fauns, weird sisters, astrological signs, and bewitched souls creep in and out of earshot, imbuing tracks like “Ballad of the Weird Sisters” with a certain otherworldly feel even as they build upon standard 70s hard rock song structures.
Guitarist Sean Kennedy weaves his riffs over and under the flue’s driving force, stealing the spotlight when it suits but generally content to serve as the stage upon which O’Brien’s finery flashes. Michael Carrillo’s drums are understated, slung low in the mix but never far from the action; his militant rat-a-tat in the titular “The Eldritch Dark” serves as a steady anchor for the song’s psychedelic meanderings, and gels perfectly with the burly basslines. “Drawing Down the Moon” is the most vintage-inspired of a host of backward-glancing tracks. Kennedy’s note-perfect Iommi riff wails away while O’Brien channels Marianne Faithfull and Jethro Tull like some heathen love child and pounds that Hammond organ for all of its considerable worth. It’s hip-shaking, head-nodding, sideways-glance-throwing nighttime music. If the Devil were really listening, he’d have booked these guys as his house band long ago.
The hymn-like “Lord Summerisle” is quiet and contemplative, recalling the quietest moments of Black Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan” and guided by a particularly haunting flute melody. It’s the only song to feature a male vocalist, as bassist Lucas Gadke (who wrote the tune in homage to the eerie atmosphere of cult film ‘The Wicker Man’) adds his plaintive voice to O’Brien’s backing harmonies, and also the strangest. Blood Ceremony hit upon their alchemical formula years ago, but it’s still refreshing to see them experiment, just a little. Too much, and their spell would break; just enough, and they prove once again why they are the most vital band of the “occult rock” renaissance. Trends come and go, but a band like Blood Ceremony, with their bewitching tunes and dark secrets, are above such petty mortal trifles. We’re coming with them, whether we like it or not.
