I’m intrigued with Carbon Decoy‘s name. It’s a play on “carbon decay,” the process used for carbon dating, and the skull on the cover of their new album, Crush the Sun, indicates a version of decay, but they chose “decoy.” Their name seems to indicate being a stand-in for the decayed, or for the dead perhaps.
I mean, the heavy doom riffs they play certainly help back this theory. “The Trip” opens the album with a gas pedal-stomper that makes you want to hit the open road, pick up a weird, sexy hitchhiker, fight a band of cultists, and discover a doctor’s bag full of loot at the end of the road. Earl Mudd‘s guitars on “Castle East” sometimes sound like they’re straining to hold back undead hordes attacking said castle, and the agonized wails from drummer / vocalist Casey Rowe amplifying the image.
Jared Jordan‘s bass is spread thick across “Icarus,” and Rowe’s drums reflect the surely panicked, euphoric, and then panicked again heartbeat of the doomed man who flew too close to the sun. The swagger and groove of “Forest of Lies” is outstanding. It’s a swampy, sludgy one amidst the doom, and I’m all for it. “Sirens” goes back into mythological lands (and waters, in this case) as Rowe bemoans that he’s being beckoned by physical and metaphorical monsters. Speaking of monsters, the trio hammers away on “The Wraith,” in which they apparently try to banish such a spirit with the power of crushing riffs and pounding beats. The album ends with “Ghost Town,” this time with Jordan on vocals and the sounds of wind blowing through a spaghetti western that takes place near a haunted coal mine that probably houses some sort of horrible creature of the souls of a hundred trapped miners.
For most of its runtime, Crush the Sun feels heavy enough to do just that. Carbon Decoy’s created one of the best doom albums of the year so far.
Keep your mind open.
[Make the trip to the subscription box.]
[Thanks to Ksu at Discipline PR.]
