The Spectral Light: Obliteration

To little fanfare, The Spectral Light’s 10000 Stars was one of those releases that offered new possible outcomes. Comprising of two long-form tracks that totalled under 20 minutes, it was something that pulled slowcore to the dark edge. Brooding and malice-hearted in sound, it proved to be the gateway to the various other works of multi-instrumentalist trio, Amanda Votta, Neddal Ayad and Jon Free. (Most notably, Votta and Ayad’s shape-shifting Deep Fade.)

Whilst Deep Fade’s latest release, Oblivion Spell, saw Votta going it alone, the results were yet another new frontier: Votta, slicing through the aesthetic of Skinny Puppy and Pure-era Godflesh with a butcher’s knife, and reconstructing this murky electronica through the shattered lens of doom.

Speaking to Votta in lead up to the release of The Spectral Light’s excellent new long-player, Obliteration, and there was a consensus that the project may have reached its conclusion after 10000 Stars; the focus, perhaps more on Deep Fade and Votta’s other field recordings-orientated side hustle, The Floating World.

Obliteration expands on the gravitas of 10000 Stars, which is hardly surprising. Votta’s mission statement, to keep launching herself into the most brutal frontiers, and alongside Ayad and Free, the trio take folk music and drag it through barbed wire, mangling its very essence and reshaping into some form of woodsy, doom-laden no-wave.

Smashing synths into waves of knotty guitars, The Spectral Light dispense the kind of metallic echoes that chill you to the marrow. Like a slow crush, it begins with Teeth – a groan from the abyss. Votta vocals, like a spectre riding on the crest of darkness resulting in slowcore inspired by black pits.

Which is where The Spectral Light remains with Branch. Another instruction from the nadir, as Ayad’s medieval-inspired guitar rings in the ears with malevolence. Slowly, the cacophony fades as the song twists with skewed, far-reaching drones that transform into slow-motion doom country. This is the beauty of The Spectral Light: their songs morph into completely different shapes, almost like a song within a song.

Elsewhere, and Moonsinger is as menacing as the band has ever sounded, with guitars that sound more like ligaments snapping under sheer weight. A trembling sea of volume and tone that is simply eye watering, completely rattling the senses.

As they always do, The Spectral Light pivot on Obliterate – a medieval folk lament warped with sci-fi inflections and brute force, which leads into closing track, Whisper Surgery. If Teeth was a groan from the abyss, then Whisper Surgery blows it apart with an all-consuming siege of noise where the band navigate through the marshlands that lead to epicentre of doom. “This world is killing me,” sings Votta, her voice almost deadpan as she submits to the dissonance. Indeed, the obliteration.

With flinty, hard-nosed principals, The Spectral Light reverse engineer everything they touch. Their approach, exposing the most frightening aspects of art. This can only be achieved by travelling into the world’s darkest corners, and on Obliteration, The Spectral Light reaffirm their position as the quintessential doom folk demolitionists. Sincerely one-of-kind in their quest to operate in the heart of music’s most ruthless frontiers.

Obliteration is out Friday via Cruel Nature Records. Purchase from Bandcamp.