The new album from doom metal’s international super-group is shorter than their previous two recordings, both of which were released on double LP as well as in CD format. This was a deliberate decision by the band, in order to make a more focused and intense album that would better hold the listener’s attention.
Despite being the shortest Lord Vicar album to date, Gates of Flesh still has two epic songs, which have become the band’s trademark. Opening track ‘Birth of Wine’ is over seven minutes long, and the bitter, grim closing track ‘Leper, Leper’ (10:22) crawls along at a snail’s pace. This final track invokes all the emptiness and twisted pain of guitarist Kimi Karki’s previous band, the now legendary Reverend Bizarre. And so it should – the last thing Lord Vicar fans want to hear is a softer record! There is some beautiful acoustic playing to be heard, but it’s kept within a minor key to keep things suitably doomy.
That said, there are some softer moments. The verses to ‘Birth of Wine’ have a blues rock feel to them and third track ‘A Shadow of Myself’ is an extended clean bass solo. I took this to be a tribute to the late Jason McCash, as this is a technique he employed to great effect with The Gates of Slumber. I don’t know if that’s the case but he was a great friend of the band. It reminds me of his playing and how much he is missed by doom metal fans the world over.
The bass on the album was shared between Kimi and drummer Gareth Milstead (ex-Centurion’s Ghost), following the departure of long time bassist Jussi Myllykoski. Live bass on the band’s forthcoming European tour will be carried out by non other than former Reverend Bizarre front man Sami “Albert Witchfinder” Hynninen, which will be another plus for fans.
The album is peppered with the odd familiar sounding riff that harks back to the first Lord Vicar album (2009’s Fear No Pain), such as the opening riff to ‘Birth of Wine’ and the ending of ‘Breaking The Circle’. They are original riffs, but they invoke a sense of déjà-vu, a feeling that the more things change, the more they stay the same. This ties in well with the loose lyrical concept that runs through the album. As its title suggests, the songs are related to the pleasures and weakness of the flesh, from fragile beauty (‘A Woman Out of Snow’) to oppressive menace and despair (‘Leper, Leper’). I can imagine the Roman empire collapsing in the background as Chritus laments the shallow state of his fellow men and woman, while acknowledging that he is doomed to behave in exactly the same way.
Lord Vicar albums do not usually grab listeners on the first spin. Instead, they are designed to reveal subtle details with each subsequent listen. This applies to Gates of Flesh, which has all the characteristics that make Lord Vicar instantly recognisable to doom fans, with much less of the meandering and experimentation that has slowed them down on previous releases.