There was a time when Corrosion of Conformity looked set to well and truly crack the mainstream. ‘Deliverance’ and ‘Wiseblood’ were both released via Columbia Records and the latter album saw COC widely touted by, and touring with, Metallica. Label and line-up changes saw the band heading down the painfully familiar route of increasing critical acclaim corresponding with decreasing sales and Corrosion of Conformity seemed likely to fade away into obscurity, albeit through no fault of their own. Despite line up shifts and even a short hiatus, the band continued to release impressive albums and, as there had been no inter-band fall-out, the door remained open for Pepper Keenan (off touring with Down) to return to the fold, something he finally did in 2015. Since then, anticipation for the promised record was high and, in January, the band finally delivered on their promise, releasing one of their finest works to date in the form of ‘No Cross No Crown’.
From the moment the horrible, creeping sludge of ‘Novus Deus’ emerges from the speakers like some long-lost Black Sabbath track, you know you’re in for a treat. The track takes its sweet time to emerge from the swamp, but when it does, neatly segueing into ‘the luddite’ along the way, it’s like a thousand flaming guitars ignite simultaneously, such is the band’s ferocity. With Pepper Keenan’s vocals defiantly high in the mix, the band sound absolutely electrifying and his weathered vocals give the music a gravitas reminiscent of High on Fire’s recent output. The band up the ante several notches with the devastating riff-fest that is ‘cast the first stone’, a cacophonous number that rattles the windows only for the short, melancholic interlude of ‘no cross’ to take the listener to a calmer place. Awash with psychedelic touches, it’s a beautiful piece of music that serves only to heighten the impact when the listener is hit square between the eyes by the metallic onslaught of ‘wolf named crow’, a hyper-dynamic, stoner rock gem built around a gargantuan, blues-infused central riff that makes you want to reach for the whiskey bottle. With its reverb drenched solo, you can’t help but feel that this is where Metallica were dying to go on ‘Load’, but couldn’t quite get there, and there’s no questioning the adrenalin rush that greets Reed Mullin’s typically explosive percussion. The scratchy riffing of ‘Little man’ locks quickly into a mean groove that proves entirely irresistible, and it doesn’t hurt that the melody worms its way into your brain with considerable tenacity. The first half of the album concludes with the short, sweet ‘Matre’s Diem’, a picked, acoustic number that allows a moment’s respite amidst the tube-melting intensity of the surrounding tracks. Beautifully recorded, you can hear the scrape of the strings and the quiet intake of breath, as if it were recorded in a single take with one mic placed in the room – a stark contrast to the over-produced approach so many bands seem to adopt now.
Kicking off the second half of the album, the ballsy ‘Forgive me’ pitches burnt and smoky riffs against some of the album’s most expressive soloing before the introduction of ‘nothing left to say’ deceptively takes things in the direction of ‘planet caravan’ via Alice in Chains. It’s a powerful and emotional opening that does little to prepare the listener for the immense riff that suddenly boils over, taking the track to a different plane altogether. Another short segue in the form of (the somewhat eerie) ‘sacred isolation’ provides a bridge to the hard-hitting ‘old disaster’, the latter being a full-blown instance of Sabbath worship, complete with Ozzy-esque vocals. The harmonised guitars of ‘E.L.M’ are only the icing on a seriously groovy cake, all Sabbath swing with a psychedelic edge, it’s the sort of track that will leave no head un-banged and it keeps the listener hooked as we head towards the title track. A disturbing, lysergic experience, ‘No cross no crown’ walks deep into the mouth of madness, the reverb-laden guitar and subtle instrumental flourishes designed to maximise the listeners increasingly mounting levels of discomfort before the mighty ‘a quest to believe (a call to the void)’, emerges from the darkness, with a monumental riff designed to expel the darkness by sheer force of will alone. It is a thrilling and fitting conclusion to an astounding album.
Whilst southern-tinged hard rock may be a popular genre these days, there are few bands who can deliver it with this level of aplomb. Corrosion Of Conformity sound utterly assured over the course of the fourteen tracks this album offers and, with its segue tracks and careful sequencing, it’s clear that this is an album meant to be heard in one sitting, not broken up into easily-digested morsels. Whilst CoC have not released a bad album as such, there’s no question that ‘No Cross No Crown’ has a particularly vital feel to it, marking it out as a high point in an already enviable career. Whether this is your first exposure to CoC, or the latest in a long line of purchases, there is no question that this record will become a firm favourite. 9
