Slow Death Make Winter Sound Fun Again

Feb 10

***A band that bathes together usually stays together***—all photos courtesy of ***Slow Death***

A chilling offering from the sharp, wintery landscape of upstate New York, Slow Death, not to be confused with The Slow Death, submits a dirge in their debut full-length, Fast Life. A frosty post-punk delight, the record avoids the synth-laden trappings of the genre, instead focusing on organic roots that will have fans reaching for their eyeliner faster than you can howl “Bela Lugosi.”

This is haunting music, pulled from a monster double feature in 1956. It is dusty, full of grit and fuzz, and at home in any goth collection. Comparing it to Bauhaus and Joy Division may feel cheap and easy, but the bloodied black glove fits, and Slow Death wears it well.

Lead vocalist and guitarist Graham Feltham commands a creeping baritone, translating mythic and hazy lyrical themes that invoke images of entropy and the natural world. Feltham’s guitars do not jangle; they growl, while Brandon Musa’s bass works like a gravedigger on a twelve-hour shift. Alex Craver’s drums bring an aggressive element by favoring a sooty, particulate-laden low end rather than relying on the thin, over-reverbed stylings of, say, The Sisters of Mercy. On keys, Peter Ives exists to accentuate rather than steal focus, resulting in a sound that feels more punk than post.

“Ghost Horses” is a proper opener, with a tunneling bassline and greasy guitars leading into a combustible and catchy chorus. Like much of the record, the track does not overstay its welcome, reinforcing the punk ethos that forms the foundation of Slow Death’s approach.

“Illusions of Agency” holds my favorite riff on the album, opening with a sense of doom that would make Bernard Sumner proud. The opening stanza lands hard and true:

Shit is looking pretty fucked

Get to feeling like you’re stuck

Back to freedom is not free

Sacrifice who you could be

Illusion of agency

Lyrics take center stage on the chorus of “Life Is an Island on a Sea of Death.”

I think I’ll hang around

Why don’t you stay awhile

Seems like it could be fun

I’ll make it worth your while

Ones who came before us

Are ashes in the sea

The track bucks the trend of a slow build and jumps straight into palm-muted guitars and dual vocals, making it one of the album’s standouts.

Perhaps my favorite track on Fast Life, “Terminal Flare,” also skips an intro, leaping into a bouncy and ethereal verse before sinking the fishhook of its chorus. Ives’ keys shine here, forming an ambient wave that helps the song drift along the tide of its well-crafted lyrics.

There is an algid sense of foreboding that permeates every track on Fast Life. The songs are dark and misty. Call it stoner goth if you want to get high and feel paranoid about a slasher stalking just behind you. At its most aggressive, there is a kinship with storied Philadelphia vampires Ink and Dagger. At its most restrained, it conjures ghostly scrims of Nick Cave. Slow Death finds a rare and effective balance between the two.

On Fast Life, winter is a long-dead season, and Slow Death are fully prepared to endure it.