Sometimes you have to take a step back. Take a break from this systematic frenzy of consuming new releases every Friday. Maybe even look back and realize that albums that aren’t necessarily immediate reveal themselves over time. Some albums are immediately thrilling, while others slowly creep up on you. Very few albums have had that effect on me this year, but Spirit Mother’s second album is one of them. And as the saying goes, “the only thing that never changes is your mind”, I wanted to take a look back at this September release, which, at a time when the end-of-year charts are coming up, deserved a little time to reflect on this dark nugget.
There was reason to be perturbed. For a start, the cover, halfway between an IGN topo map and Joy Divsion’s “Unknown Pleasures”, bears no resemblance whatsoever to the gaudy, psychedelic visuals of the Heavy Psych Sounds catalog. Musically, it’s the same: a far cry from the genres promoted by the label. While acid and hallucinogenic fumes are part of the DNA of the HPS sound, here it’s more like leather, cold ashtrays and whisky. Their revelation is just as strange: it takes place in the midst of a pandemic, when the mastermind of the desert bamboches Stoned & Dusted captures a series of live concerts by 5 bands of his choice in the middle of the desert: among the pundits Earthless, Stöner and Nebula slips Spirit Mother, with a tense, impetuous sound but a perfectly chiseled rock melody, far removed from the aforementioned headliners.
What the hell is this UFO doing on our radar, if not their presence on THE stoner label? At the same time, who cares? Because it would be a shame to deny ourselves the visceral pleasures of the desolation and spleen of this battered record.
Spirit Mother have an honorable mission: to add darkness and soul to a psychedelia that concentrates a little too much on wisps of smoke or cosmic trips. “Trails” reveals a band with a hybrid sound as much inspired by the hypnotic, harsh Americana of rural midwestern ghost towns as by the steamy shoegaze of the early ’90s. On paper, with such a description, one quickly imagines a band at the crossroads between All Them Witches and Lord Buffalo. It’s true that the ever-depressed, ever-shaky fiddle is a strong marker of modern American folk music. The result is dark, haunting psychedelic rock. But that would be to completely overlook Spirit Mother’s British approach to songwriting. Evoking shoegaze, there’s a je ne sais quoi of The Jesus & The Mary Chain both in the vocals and in its sense of melody: simple but catchy, rhythmically varied, making each of the nine songs stand out from the other.
And Spirit Mother’s sound has it all: rhythmic and provocative on “Emerald” and “Vessel”, heavy and rumbling on “Veins”, slow and voluptuous on the excellent “Below”, menacing and sinister on “Tonic” or completely ghostly and wintry on “Given”. Added to these ambiguities is a charisma worthy of rock icons: Armand Lance’s voice is particularly bewitching, and his sex appeal is over 9000.
The band also knows how to build a setlist. They know how to gradually build up the enthusiasm for their music, and reach new heights at the close of their album: the album’s single, “Wolves”, lies in wait to convince you once and for all of the exhilarating, twilight beauty of “Trails”. You’ll never have heard anything more absolute in rock this year.
With their impressive and original sound palette, these nine “Trails” are not to be found on any known rock map. What is certain is that this album, for its part, takes the road to the summits of 2024. It’s an invitation to break out the whisky and fags, a declaration of love to rock in all its modern, psychedelic glory.
Last modified: 7 January 2025
