In these days of streaming, instant gratification, and impatience, you have to question the sanity of anyone who releases a single-track, forty-three-minute album. However, psychedelic doomsters Gevaudan have never taken the easy route and, with Umbra, they have surely reached a new peak. A compelling and lengthy journey into the void, it is a work of unshakeable confidence and soaring ambition, making it an essential addition to any self-respecting doom fan’s collection.
It opens amidst a haze of ominous noise – a mix of amp hum, throbbing bass, and reverb-drenched lead, all creating silhouettes in the dark. As befitting a track of this length, it’s a slow burn opening, the band refusing to give away too much too soon and so, like a good horror movie, we catch only glimpses of the fate that awaits us. When it does emerge, as an imperial march, it’s as if someone has taken Queen’s epic Innuendo and stripped the introduction down to its barest rock elements, slowing the tempo and sending it back out into the world, slavering and drooling. As introductions go, it’s satisfyingly epic and, when the vocals finally appear, they are wrapped tight in a riff that combines the grandeur of My Dying Bride with the relentless darkness of Sabbath.
As the track progresses to take in some epic lead work, so Adam Pirmohamed’s allow a touch of grit to enter his vocals, but this is just the first ten minutes, and he tempers his approach accordingly. Thus, the track itself falls in on itself at around the twelve-minute mark, to re-emerge as a calmer, quieter piece – with echoing guitar and naked vocals conjuring a very different atmosphere. It’s a necessary digression, allowing both band and listener time to regroup after the dense introduction, but it slowly finds its way through the dark to return, brighter and harder than before, Adam’s vocal soaring over crunchy riffs that become ever more agitated.
However, while the blazing riffs and bowel-quaking bass of Bruce Hamilton and Andy Salt respectively are crucial to Gevaudan’s sound, the length of the track allows for further forays into the unknown and, with the piece in its final third, Adam’s psychedelic keyboards enter the fray, adding a touch of progressive mysticism. As the heavier elements are slowly eclipsed, so they are swept away altogether to allow a piano-led segment to emerge. With a haunting melody that harks back to My Dying Bride’s funereal take on Scarborough Fair, it provides an oasis of calm amidst the towering riffs, before the track concludes, as of course it must, amidst a positive storm of heavy doom, held menacingly in check by David Himbury’s mighty percussion.
The fact that Gevaudan cared enough about their art to produce a lengthy, single-track album, was already a mark in Umbra’s favour. That it is a fantastic piece that more than justifies its extended runtime is all the more heartening. With beautiful artwork (Erskine designs), excellent production (Mike Exeter), and stunning musicianship throughout, this is a masterclass in funeral doom that deserves to feature prominently in album-of-the-year listings. 9/10
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