There are records that are a collection of songs that work as a tandem, the assembled work or an artist or artists that fit together. There are others that feel like events, communal expressions, voices sent out to the stars, often a combination of those factors, and when they land, they live beyond a creative cycle. They’re beings.
Rwake have been gone a long time. It’s been 14 years since “Rest” roused our metallic souls, and if you put that album on today (I actually just did) it sounds as fresh and vital as the day it was born. The Arkansas-based band, that’s as much a close-knit family as they are a musical outfit, finally are back with us on sixth record “The Return of Magick,” a brute force dashed with psychedelic colors and an unbreakable bond with the cosmos and nature. This is one of those event records. This six-track, 54-minute excursion has the band sounding as full of life as ever before, and perhaps that break helped this group—vocalists C.T. (who also handles words and themes) and Brittany (also on keys), guitarists Austin and John (lap and pedal steel, 12-string bass), bassist Reid, drummer Jeff (who also handles acoustic guitars and 12-string bass)—explodes through these songs that will test you mind and body and hopefully connect you to something greater than just the music. This is one of the best records yet, and I adore their back catalog. But this one is stuck on repeat, and I don’t see that changing.
“You Swore We’d Always Be Together” opens ominously with clean guitars flowing, accordion landing softly, and then the thing rips, growls and shrieks sounding wonderfully scorched, pedal steel adding a syrupy emotional heft, warm leads battling with the sludge. Screams penetrate again, guitars trucking as the playing spills, everything subsiding in an electric haze. The title track wastes no time, trucking with furious cries, the intensity hammering as the guitars wrapped like a cord, compromising your blood flow, C.T delivering spoken messages, “To all the witches in the woods, and to the goblins that understood, there is a spirit that walks among us, and it is living proof.” The speaking melts into warm guitars and long, immersive passages, C.T. later declaring, “It’s the return of magic in a crystal fucking palace, beyond biology and beyond all traits.” Dual guitars wrest control as howls recharge and sneer, shadows dripping blood as the fury slowly fades away. “With Stardust Flowers” punches its way in, vile shrieks hammering, punishment dealt with an even hand, the flow eventually growing calmer and more reflective. “Time is our great cosmic conductor,” C.T. warbles, “nothing escapes the song or spell we are under. Built from stardust sustained by cosmic ingredients, every cell is linked to an earlier stream of consciousness.” Guitars splash more colors before draining, tingling, and then everything speeds up suddenly, strains rushing through a mud stream, blistering and bleeding out.
“Distant Constellations and the Psychedelic Incarceration” is the longest track here at 13:56, and the opening is narrated by Jim “Dandy” Mangrum of the great Black Oak Arkansas. This is a segment that feels like an elder uncovering great wisdom from a wormhole in the past, echoing to the present and future. Acoustics and strings rise, guitars set their path, and wind whips, C.T. and Brittany trading lines that mash reflective with ferocious. The whole thing turns back into the darkness, feeling through chugging guitars and mashing rhythms, shrieks then exploding as if from hell. That temperature spike continues and ravages through maiming insanity that drains your mind dry. “In After Reverse” is warped before it guts, animalistic howls digging in their heels, doomy vibes rippling through the earth. The hypnosis takes on a greater hand, C.T. calling, “Vibrations alone, illusive emotion, the orchestra clocked, foundation in symphony, the atomic fate, a conducted crustacean, influence the state and conduct a rotation.” Spacey echo takes over as the playing recharges, the riffs storm, and the shrieks unravel, everything blistering and spiking the heat, eventually fading into a comic psychedelic cavern. Outro piece “Φ” has pianos dripping, acoustics teaming with pedal steel glaze, and the final embers fading into a scorched sunset.
Having Rwake back in our midst is a gift in and of itself, and the fact that “The Return of Magick” is such a triumph is a testament to this familial unit. There is darkness packed into these songs for sure, but there also are plenty of strains of optimism and reminders that we’re more than just being in flesh suits. We have our minds, the universe, and, yes, magic, all elements that can push us beyond mere existence into something with even more meaning than what this earth can provide.
For more on the band, go here: https://rwake.bandcamp.com/
To buy the album, go here: https://www.relapse.com/collections/rwake-the-return-of-magik
For more on the label, go here: https://www.relapse.com/
Meat Mead Metal 