I’m not one for instrumental albums, and the first eight minutes of Volumes (Black Bow), the debut album from Glasgow trio Headless Kross, left me fearing the worst. Following ‘splits’ with Brit Sludge-Doom outfits War Iron and Lazarus Blackstar, riffs the weight of lead elephants pierce the sky with a more psychedelic feel than one may expect. The slow, repetitive groove and lack of vocal in the early stages of epic-length opener ‘Rural Juror’ however, had me scurrying for the exit door. Cometh the Man…
Derek Sexton‘s raking scream gives the touch of evil, a Sludgy edge, that the initial strains so badly need. His intermittent holler is initially subtle in the mix following the middle section’s bleep fest, until harrowing screams burst through welcome chord progressions; squealing, scratching leadwork lifting the track from its rolling monotony toward a drifting, Eastern-flecked paradise. The developing sound is akin to melding Karma to Burn with Brighton Sludge-Grungers Gorse, the warm fuzz of Tommy Duffin‘s wailing, oscillating leads cascading the coda through the cosmos.
It’s when threatening to break its creative tethers that Headless Kross realises its full array of talent and possibility. Sexton’s fulminating blackened scream drags the carcass of ‘Who Is This Who Is Coming’ to a rude awakening, aided by an explosion of barely harnessed power; a languid, luscious guitar solo easing its pain and pushing back to the usual Stoner vibe. The crushing riff of closer ‘Even The Destroyed Things Have Been Destroyed’ is doleful, the vocal at times bitter and railing yet occasionally full of anguish and, in exposing this, evoking the emotional protestations of Winterfylleth‘s Chris Naughton. More subtle leadwork opens to a vicious mind-bending oppression, and it’s here where the true power of this outfit is laid bare: the ability to weld harsh, frozen wastelands with phenomenal weight and resonance and, crucially, palpable emotion.
Volumes is an album full of paradox: repulsively angry and often brutal, yet vulnerable and endearing; impassioned yet periodically riddled with flexing, latent groove. It’s a risky yet fascinating combination which ultimately ensures these powerful Glaswegians will stick in the mind.
7.5/10
PAUL QUINN