Following 2019’s Blood Of The Beasts, Plagues Upon Plagues is the new effort from Sect, a band uniting the remarkable talents of Scott Crouse (Earth Crisis, Tooth & Claw), Jimmy Chang (Undying, Catharsis), Steve Hart (Day of Suffering, Mania for Conquest), Andy Hurley (Fall Out Boy, Racetraitor), and Chris Colohan (Cursed, Unwell). For this, their third album, the band focus on the both the literal “plague” of COVID-19, and the political plague of right-wing populism. The result is a dynamic, forward-thinking mix of post-metal, hardcore, and sludge, by turns beguiling and bludgeoning the listener over the course of eight tracks.
It opens with the lengthy, dramatic No Uncertain Terms, a near-7-minute exploration of sonic territory hitherto the province of Neurosis. With neo-folk melodies giving way to abrasive blasts of guitar, it provides a fascinating roadmap to the album, and sets the tone for a conceptual piece riven with grief at the increasing polarisation of society. It’s followed by New Low, a track that builds a sense of tension from the outset thanks to Andy Hurley’s deft performance behind the kit. With vocalist Chris Colohan venting his spleen over a procession of fractured, hardcore-infused riffs, it’s a harder edged effort that grabs the listener in a close embrace redolent of sweat and spit. The band up the ante once more with the powerful Drowning In Sorrows, which ducks and dives with djentish energy, recalling the spasmodic movements of early Dillinger Escape Plan. The first half of this visceral effort concludes with Zerzan Wept, which sees the band adopt a heavier groove, only to slip into progressive territory, the twin-guitars of Scott Crouse and Jimmy Chang underpinned by the churning bass of Steve Hart.
Opening the second half of the album, the low flame of #ForeverHome glimmers amidst the darkness, before blazing into incandescent fury, as Chris rages into the void. A similarly sinister opening greets the listener for The Lovers Of Life, but it is merely a fleeting moment of serenity amidst the merciless assault the band are perpetrating. With paranoid, spoken-word passages, and post-hardcore savagery, it lays the album’s dark heart bare. Delivered at breakneck speed, the short Inventory flashes past, the barely-coherent vocals only registering after the fact, before the album reaches its end with Six Black Lines (Plagues Upon Plagues). One final outpouring of tar-thick sludge, it provides the album with an apocalyptic ending – stark terror offset with a fierce anger that, with all the education and technology at society’s command, it should come to this – the fires of hate lit by populist snake oil salesmen, motivated by self-interest and fuelled by barely concealed ignorance.
Plagues Upon Plagues is not an easy album. Mixed by the legendary Kurt Ballou, and played with raw intensity, it is an album for the times in which we live, caught between blank despair and white hot rage. However, despite the weighty themes and crushing riffs, there’s a dynamic present that keeps the listener hooked. Subtle themes appear at the darkest moments, and the album lingers long after it has finished playing. Not an easy ride, then, but a truly worthwhile one – Plagues Upon Plagues is a deeply impressive effort from these masters of their craft. 8.5/10
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