Sounding ever more like Led Zeppelin going head to head with AC/DC, Graveyard don’t mess about on opening number ‘It ain’t over yet’, Joakim Nilsson deploying a wail that will have people checking the liner notes just to be sure Robert Plant isn’t guesting on the track. The band, meanwhile, match Joakim blow for blow, delivering a rambunctious track that will have them dancing in the aisles wherever it may be played. The band slow the pace for the psychedelic, bluesy ‘cold love’, a track that draws on the likes of Bad Company for inspiration, Joakim sounding like the cigarette-chugging love-child of Mark Lannegan and Paul Rodgers as the solos pile up around him. As shimmering third track ‘see the day’ emerges, it’s another stylistic departure as the band incorporate subtle western influences and even a touch of shoegaze, as they draw the listener ever further down the rabbit hole. In contrast, the band get their groove on for crushing ‘please don’t’, as Oskar Bergenheim and Truls Morck lock step as the rhythm section to really give the track an earth-shaking backing. It is this juxtaposition of the sublimely psychedelic and the ridiculously rock ‘n’ roll that makes Graveyard such a consistently compelling listen. The first half of the album concludes with ‘the fox’, a bluesy anthem that you could easily imagine as the theme song to some long-lost 70s crime caper.
Oskar’s rolling toms open the Screaming Trees-esque ‘Walk on’, the enigmatic opening track for the album’s second half and, as Joakim’s voice, drenched in reverb and delay, growls out the chorus, so the hypnotic power of the drums increasingly draws off your will to resist, especially when the track heads off on its own dark trip towards the end. A dark, acoustic piece, ‘Del manic’ has a Richard Hawley feel, Joakim’s sanguine vocal backed by a sparse arrangement that allows the melody to shine. In contrast, ‘bird of paradise’ is a 70’s anthem in the spirit of The Doors with a touch of Dylan and Hendrix thrown in for good measure, the band really tapping into the spirit of a decade that seems further out of reach than ever in today’s chaotic world. A fast-paced rocker, ‘a sign of peace’ has energy and to spare, the rampant riffs and gritty vocals recalling Dan Patlansky at his most ferocious. It leaves only the throbbing, hypnotic ‘Low (I wouldn’t mind)’ to bring the album to an end with its taut bass lines, organ trills and soulful vocal. It’s an album highlight and a worthy finale to a record unafraid to explore the rich variety found at the heart of psychedelic rock.
It is arguable that, with ‘Peace’, Graveyard have reached a career peak. At forty-one minutes in length and with ten tracks on offer, the fat has been ruthlessly trimmed from the album with not an ounce of filler to be found anywhere. The songs have depth and power by the skipful and the record has a raw, lived in feel that apes the production values of the bands that form Graveyard’s muse. Rich in melody and energetic in delivery, ‘Peace’ neatly draws on the band’s many strengths and ends up sounding like a best of, such is the quality of material on offer. Absolutely astounding. 9
