Calva Louise
Edge Of The Abyss
Edge Of The Abyss is so called because, in the words of Calva Louise frontwoman Jess Allanic, “one misstep and everything could fall apart.” For a change, such a statement doesn’t feel like hyperbole, either. For starters, Calva Louise might have one of the most global footprints of any up-and-coming act, spanning Venezuela, New Zealand, France, and eventually settling in the UK. It’s a hell of a commitment to make solely for being in a band, and the requisite effort has only been more and more loaded on by Calva Louise being on the fringes of a blow-up at the very, very most. So, yeah, finding success is kind of imperative here.
You’d almost expect Calva Louise to be warmer to the idea of selling out, then, rather than moving deeper into genre-fusing absolutism. This is their most thorough, alien effort to date, and the one that’ll hopefully get people talking the most (even if the megabucks are still unlikely to roll in.) The gulf is only widening since their 2019 debut Rhinoceros, with Edge Of The Abyss’ latest jaunt akin to the continental drift that broke Pangaea apart. Anything ‘standardly’ alt-pop-rock is long gone; now, there’s alt-metal, post-hardcore and electronics clashing nice and loudly throughout. The care in cultivating that over the last few releases is evident in how heaving W.T.F and Hate In Me are, or how the buzzsaw dance-rock of Impeccable lands and cracks the ground beneath it.
Among that is the ever-welcome return of Allanic’s Spanish lyrics in places, an unheard-of bit of culture in a sound that’s typically too shallow to even consider it. Even further from that, El Umbral plays with distinctly Latin patter, and the interlude The Abyss even seems to flirt with Brazilian phonk touches. (No, Brazil and Venezuela aren’t the same, but it’s not like either nation ever gets a look-in with music like this anyway.) The fact it’s all actually blended makes for a luxury that’s equally rare. The vestiges of surface-level edge that remain aren’t nearly as lamentable as they could be, not when Calva Louise’s added effort is so clear. Thank God that feigned disaffection is no longer the standard, and bands can start showing some outward pride in their work when it’s deserved.
For the most part on Edge Of The Abyss, it is deserved. Although not free of hang-ups—the static, blocky production could’ve afforded a rework, too—there’s a lot of good to be found nonetheless. Even in the confines of Calva Louise’s discography, it’s easily the most well-realised body of work they’ve come up with, and for that, maybe their best. Evidently, an incremental improvement can go a long way when you’re playing to the dogged beat of Calva Louise. With all the hope this instills, the abyss might be less of a terrifying prospect moving forward.
For fans of: Vukovi, Wargasm, Dead Pony
‘Edge Of The Abyss’ by Calva Louise is released on 11th July on Mascot Label Group.
Lakes
Slow Fade
Lakes make extravagantly pleasant music. They always have; most likely, they always will. More than that, they’ve really settled into a space that lets breathe all the evocative trappings of their name. As a band called Lakes, they conjure an utterly perfect vibe—crisp; natural; calm; a wonderful complement to a surrounding, arboreal landscape. If anyone could unironically get away with the done-to-unalloyed-death ‘band plays in the wood / field / clearing’ music video treatment, it would be Lakes. In fact, their pleasantness is so overflowing in every direction that Lakes are singlehandedly made better from it. Slow Fade is a lovely album, but is there anything more considerable about it to isolate? Not really.
Now on their fourth album, that’s become the bread-and-butter of Lakes, so much so that taking action isn’t all that necessary. Slow Fade might have increased the quota of programmed skitters on the likes of Trouble to bring in more of an emo-pop sound, but otherwise, the regular pieces still do their job. The ripples of vibraphone and glockenspiel bring additional beauty and sophistication whenever they’re in place, the definition of small, fringe elements that shoulder enormous prospect. As for core instrumentation, Lakes’ emo prizes its bottomless lode of melody to no end. There’s a lot of light woven into these guitars, either in fragments of their old math-rock days that have stuck around, or in the very grassroots pop that plays a tacit role, but a noteworthy one. There’s a wooden feel to Slow Fade, as in that’d be the texture if you could physically put your hands on it.
It’d be nice if all of that could coalesce a bit more neatly, though. Even with Lakes’ previous work, some time and distance away has found the broad strokes of mood and sonic palette to be much more pervasive. Slow Fade is more of the same, though no worse than what’s remained an overall good baseline. Even without a bevy of enormo-hooks, Lakes can still proficiently coax out plenty of emotions, thanks to the vocals of Roberto Cappellina, Cat Rowland and the half-dozen or so accompanying harmonisers à la DIY emo’s usual group therapy sessions. Particularly as Slow Fade progresses, it becomes more about those components finding their place over immediate songcraft—penultimate track Toro has some nice memorable flourishes, however—but Lakes never do a bad job. If anything, they make it all the easier to sink into and be carried away by their work.
It’s what Lakes do best, after all, made no different by its utility on Slow Fade. Where they’ve ended up on here is exactly where they want to be, and you can tell by how comfortable they are at digging into their resources. Lakes are not a frugal band when it comes to the areas of music that interest them, and Slow Fade is another good example of that. Here’s an extension of Lakes that, as ever, is a blissful, rich listen without going too far past that. Still, if that’s where the cut-off is, you could get a whole lot worse—and a whole lot less listenable—than this.
For fans of: American Football, Redwood, Sleep Outside
‘Slow Fade’ by Lakes is out now on Big Scary Monsters.
Wytch Hazel
V: Lamentations
Did you know that Wytch Hazel already have a hit album to their name? It’s true! 2023’s IV: Sacrament actually reached number seven in the UK…on the Christian & Gospel chart. Don’t panic, though—rather than getting fully subsumed by the inescapable cottage industry that is praise and worship music, Wytch Hazel’s approach to faith is more abstractly spiritual. Besides, had this come out in the ‘60s or ‘70s in the way its aping, it probably would’ve been pounced on by Satanic panic nonsense on style alone. Said style also draws inspiration from medieval looks and the early music of the period, if you fancy some threads of Greensleeves dotted around hobbling Sabbath, Maiden and Priest impressions.
In tandem, those parts practically clear the room for Wytch Hazel’s limitations to make themselves known—this is a largely safe, underpowered string of metal with fealty paid to broadsword-wielding classics, instead of doing anything too extraordinary themselves. It actually seems rather unambitious, in all honesty, as the proto-metal feel of its mix dominos onto its struggles to compose anything that catches much air. Songs like Run The Race and Woven are awfully small despite what their respective gallops would like to convey. Elsewhere, a desire for brightness comes in The Citadel’s solos or the additional acoustic jangles amid Elements’ major keys, both of which can only go so far before the lack of real swell kneecaps them repeatedly.
It’s similar to where Ghost went wrong on Skeletá, only without the promise of bombastic hooks that a touch-up would unearth. Instead, Wytch Hazel’s smallness feels a lot more chronic. Colin Hendra just doesn’t have the flagrance of a metal frontman in him, which is the anchor that such bland, unremarkable compositions don’t need. By the end of it, the only part of Wytch Hazel’s DNA that’s fully realised is the Christian-rock inoffensiveness. Not even in the way of a song like Woven, either, with its message of grander positivity and actualisation. Rather, it’s the blanket vibe of an album that’s terrified to let loose, though wants to convince that that’s not the case. It’s just as common in secular music, too, but the fact that Wytch Hazel have nailed themselves to that particular cross (so to speak) only makes them an easier target.
There’s a dullness that even clearest debt to metal’s classics can’t shake off. The playing is fine and typically on-point, but for something like this, that’s a graze on the surface, at best. There’s a lot more to drill into, which Wytch Hazel are less ignorant of, and more unable to muster up the wherewithal to accomplish. And even if they could, are they in the position to compete with decades of music birthed from the same fundamental touchstones? Probably not; they just don’t seem all that special. Even with the grace of God on their side, salvation is still a ways off.
For fans of: UFO, Deep Purple, Iron Maiden
‘V: Lamentations’ by Wytch Hazel is out now on Bad Omen Records.
Words by Luke Nuttall
