There are those for whom the seventies provide a template and there are those for whom the seventies never ended in the first place. That would be an apt description for Danish act Moonless whose debut full-length for the seemingly unbeatable Doomentia Records, ‘calling all demons’, is so steeped in patchouli you need a fan to blow away the smoke before you can even locate the track listing. That this is in no way a criticism should be clear to anyone who follows this site, but just to clarify, what this means is that Moonless bring with their dark, full-blooded doom/stoner/rock music a pure, beautiful love for the sound of brutally distorted guitars and a sense of naïve wonder when it comes to excellent vocalist Kenni Holmstad Peterson powering out lyrics about “staring into the fire” in a voice that captures much of the power and majesty of Dio circa ‘Dehumaniser’ whilst the band unleash the sort of cast iron riffs that Tony Iommi lies in bed dreaming of when he’s not being haunted by dread figures in black.
‘Calling all demons’ impresses before you’ve even heard a note. Clad in stunning, psychedelic artwork, this is clearly a band for whom the power of the record remains undiminished. When you finally move beyond the external joy of the packaging and cast your enraptured gaze inside the packaging you’ll be greeted by the opening track, ‘mark of the dead’ which opens with the immortal lyric “it’s the season of evil, it’s time to die” and the shiver that will run down your spine will confirm the truth of the words. Meanwhile the music is provided at maximum volume by Hasse Dalgaard (he of the devastating riffs and intoxicated solos), Kasper Maarbjerg (subsonic rumbling from somewhere near the earth’s core) and Banger (one imagines him as a mass of long hair covering all but two, piston-like arms which propulsively destroy the drum kit over the course of the average performance) , all of whom have spent the two years since the band’s demo developing a sound that is tight, brutal and beautiful all at once, the churning riffs straight out of Sabbath, the hallucinogenic solos reminiscent of sleep and the thunderous back drop of the rhythm section clear evidence of a covenant with Satan himself. It sounds utterly brilliant, raw, pure; charged with atmosphere and power – and that’s just the first song. ‘Devil’s tool’ is no lesser monument to evil, the riff that opens the track a huge, gleaming beast that judders out of the speakers with barely concealed glee. Meanwhile, Kenni’s vocals, tuneful, soulful, wrought with power and passion, are the focal point upon which all gazes will be fixed, his devilish tones marking him out as a singer of genuine skill and capability.
‘Horn of the ram’, another great title, is a devastating groove built off the back of a repetitive riff that churns amidst the hum of overloaded amplifiers and sparking equipment. Banger’s hypnotic percussion keeps the track from grinding to a halt, and then Kenni’s voice rings out loud and true and lays waste to all before it. This is the sound of a thousand Orange amps being burnt in despair as their owners realise suddenly, tragically, that they’ll never be this good; it is the very spirit of rock ‘n’ roll encapsulated and distilled down to its raw, sensual essence and you can imagine listening to this in a castle keep, the burning torches flickering on the walls as you drink mead and strong ale whilst the band lurch through their soul-crushing set of monumental metal. The title track is, if it’s possible, heavier still, and it certainly picks up the pace, Banger seemingly attempting to pummel his drums through the very floor of the studio whilst the riffs pour from the speakers in a white-hot torrent of super-charged blues that sit somewhere between vintage Deep Purple, the Sabs and monster Magnet, before devolving into a sublime solo that should have grown men weeping into their beer in delight. Speeding things up another notch, ‘the bastard in me’ is the sort of bass-led, toe-tapping, head-banging, swamp-blues that make Grifter such an awesome act, whilst Banger plays with a real swing that means that there’s both power and variation in the beat, the result being a song that has a crushingly powerful, yet loose vibe to it that makes it feel like you’re in the practice room with the band, your head sandwiched between amplifiers and your soul slowly being sucked into the cosmic vortex the band craft with their deliciously soupy sounds. Final track, ‘midnight skies’ arrives far too quickly, the lengthy tracks seemingly flying by in a haze of pungent smoke, and proceeds to round out the album with a gloriously heavy central riff that provides the perfect apocalyptic backdrop for Kenni’s powerful vocals.
At six tracks and a hair shy of forty minutes ‘Calling all demons’ sticks very firmly to the less-is-more philosophy (and more importantly within vinyl run-times), and what is certainly true is that over the forty minutes on offer you will never once be bored. All four musicians are consummate artists, and the song-writing is first-rate, displaying a genuine love of the music they play. ‘Calling all demons’ is a hard rock masterpiece and one that will make fans of classic rock/stoner and doom all very happy indeed. Break out your bong and get a hold of this album; it truly is a stunning piece of work that will sit proudly in any hard rock collection.
