A band of remarkable consistency, Lamb of God have released nine albums since they first burst upon the scene with 2000’s New American Gospel (we’ll leave aside the band’s brief tenure as Burn the Priest) and, like the artwork that adorns Omens, the band’s core sound has changed little over the years. Neither as raw as breakout album As the Palaces Burn, nor as polished as Sacrament, the early records that arguably saw the band finding their feet; the band’s progress from 2009’s Wrath has been stately, adding a touch of melody here, or a more adventurous production there, without losing sight of what keeps the fans clamouring for more.
Like many of their peers, Lamb of God were stymied by the pandemic. Having released their outstanding self-titled effort in 2020, they found themselves unable to tour and, a blistering lockdown performance (released as 2021’s Live in Richmond VA) notwithstanding, they settled down to begin writing and recording Omens far quickly than might otherwise have been the case. Not that the band were short of inspiration. In Randy Blythe, they are fortunate to have one of the most politically aware and articulate frontmen in metal, and his well-founded ire found no shortage of targets during a pandemic that saw both the best and worst of humanity emerge in some eighteen months of social upheaval.
Eschewing the slow-burn introduction of Lamb of God, Omens kicks off with the savage Nevermore, a muscular groove-metal beast that references Edgar Allen Poe, while using the dark history of the band’s hometown, Richmond, as an analogue for the tumultuous events seen in America as a whole. With judiciously deployed clean vocals and seismic riffs, it feels like a statement of intent, and it sets up a darker, harder follow up to the band’s self-titled opus. A bitter view of a world disrupted, Vanishing is a powerful hymn to the loss the pandemic engendered in us all, and it is a testament to the band’s myriad strengths that they manage to take something so utterly pissed off and make it both catchy and blisteringly heavy at the same time. The dynamic To the Grave is underpinned with the sort of neck-snapping mid-tempo groove with which the band made their name. Stripping out the guitars at points only serves to make the track heavier when they kick back in and, all in all, it’s one of those tracks that will set the mosh pit headbanging from front to back. The ferocious Ditch condemns entitlement and the narrative of blame, ripping the rug out from under those who seek to use others as a distraction for their own failure – all set to an unstoppable juggernaut of fast-paced riffs. It leaves the listener dizzied, before the dense groove of Omens brings the first half to a heady conclusion, the chorus custom built for fist-in-the-air crowd interaction.
Opening the second half, the eerie intro to Gomorrah gives way to a stuttering riff, allowing plenty of space for Randy’s lyrics to penetrate. A dark, hypnotic track, it also boasts one of the album’s finest vocal performances, and it stands as a highlight. Next up, Ill Designs proves to be a rather more straight forward LoG number, making up the numbers rather than bringing anything new to the table, but the sheer ferocity of Greyscale more than makes amends, with some seriously brutal riffs emerging to provide the foundations for Randy’s unhinged performance. Taking aim at those who seem content to watch the planet burn, Denial Mechanism has a frantic punk vibe, recalling the sonic blitzkrieg of Slayer’s underrated punk covers album, Undisputed Attitude – the urgent battering of the music providing an appropriate frame for Randy’s socially conscious lyrics. The album closes with the dense, nuanced September Song. Still crushing where it counts, it’s a slow-burning number complete with post-rock intro and subtle layers of melody. It provides the album with a strong and memorable finale and, with the album at only forty-odd minutes in length, it leaves the listener wanting more.
While Omens does not quite match the subtle experimentation of the band’s self-titled epic, it is still a very strong addition to the band’s canon. With the social upheaval of the past two years providing plenty of inspiration, the sense of rage that infuses the songs is palpable, and the ten tracks on offer are dispatched with ferocious efficiency. Some nuance remains, however. The eerie intro to Gomorrah, the synth-infused September Song and the snatches of clean vocal in Nevermore all serve to remind the listener that there is more to Lamb of God than a brutal groove, and the album flies by in what feels like a fraction of its runtime. With intelligent lyrics and plenty of bite, Omens is another strong effort from the Richmond boys. 8.5/10
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