Labels: Southern Lord
Review by: Alex Deller
Seems like a long time since we heard from Goatsnake, doubtless coiled somewhere dark, digesting a large, bony meal and readying itself for another sloughing of the skin before reconvening hungrily to the realm of men.
Portraits of Pain signals a triumphant return to the fold with its low, tarry chords scraped slowly down guitar necks, steamrollering a path for Stahl’s unmistakable howl as the doom rock sarcophagus is well and truly plundered before plunging into some thunderous headbanging riffs that could knock the teeth from a mule’s jawbone, the whole thing being neatly tied up with some woozy vocal overdubs. Following on is Black Cat Bone, a bluesy, uptempo chug similar to the ministries of High on Fire, a huge Viking funeral of a song pouring smoke like a flaming longboat driven out into icy waters. Closing the A-side we have Juniors Jam, making its entrance with an eerie slither of sound before leaching into another tectonic wall of doom, a pounding finale that�ll leave listeners flattened in their tracks but nonetheless jubilant at what has befallen them. Like the Obsessed and Vitus before them, Goatsnake can counterweight the effortlessly heavy with enough soul to prove they’re more than just a chain-fisted punch to the gut, cementing their claim to the devil’s boombox with so much grunting panache that just about anyone else’ll be too shit-scared to argue.
Ending this unholy sermon on the flip are a couple of old friends – covers of St. Vitus’ monumental Burial At Sea and Black Oak Arkansas’ rollicking Hot Rod, both pleasant additions but a minor comedown after the glorious fruit of Goatsnake’s own demonic loins . Call me impatient all you like, but if those three motherfuckers are the flavour of what’s to come I’m already champing at the bit like a wolf with a blood-streaked muzzle, all froth, spit and the wide-mouthed grin of fine eatings on the menu ahead…