Cathedral
The Carnival Bizarre

THE REVIEW

Lee Dorrian is a seminal figure. After pushing hardcore to its extreme limits and reducing the vocals to an almost incomprehensible grunt, effectively inventing what would be defined as grindcore with the debut album "Scum" (1987) of his band of origin, Napalm Death, he decides, following the split with the aforementioned Napalm, to embark on a new musical adventure by founding, together with guitarist Gary Jennings, Cathedral. This time, they push doom to its extreme limits with their debut album "Forest of Equilibrium" (1991), which surely represents one of its main cornerstones.

With this work, Cathedral overturn the lessons of Black Sabbath, hitting the brakes until touching upon claustrophobia and madness, all exacerbated by the vocal performance of the little devil from Coventry who perfectly hides his real vocal cords and spews out malign and inhuman guttural sounds at us. 1995 marks a breaking point in the band's career. Gary Jennings begins to shake up his riffs, and most importantly, Lee abandons the growl and delights us with the fullness and power of his vocal timbres.

"The Carnival Bizarre" will be remembered for this and also because, musically, influences start being felt that depart from doom, which will later evolve the band's sound into that mix of prog, doom, and psychedelic sounds that characterizes the latest "The Garden of Unearthly Delights." With the speeding up of the rhythm and a cleaner production, the references to Ozzy and Tony's band from the seventies become more evident, and honestly, I believe they are the worthy heirs of Black Sabbath, or at least, they will be remembered as such in the more or less distant future. Certainly, Lee lacks the more or less intended excesses that distinguished the madman, but history will pay tribute to him and his faithful companion and guitarist (much underrated) Gary, with the rightful recognition. Moving on to the review of the album, "The Carnival Bizarre" is undoubtedly a superb work.

The opening of the must is entrusted to "Vampire Sun," which immediately makes us understand what the new course of Cathedral will be. Gary goes wild with his cadenced riffs alternating them with blazing solos, while one imagines Dorrian singing and dancing like a damned in a sort of sonic ritual. Absolutely wonderful is the subsequent "Hopkins (The Witchfinder General)," where the opening is entrusted to none other than Vincent Price who gracefully whispers "I'm Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder," in a song with text and references both sound and visual (in the video made), drawn from the 1968 film "Witchfinder General" by Michael Reeves. In "Utopian Blaster," to emphasize the significant homage that Cathedral pays to Sabbath, His Majesty Tony Iommi himself makes an appearance, participating in what is among the most seventies songs on the album. "Night of The Seagulls" can, in my opinion, be considered the "Black Sabbath" of Cathedral, with which it shares the initial bell tolls and the heavily doom-laden rhythm. The peak, in my opinion, is reached with the eight minutes of the title track, a splendid example of a song that keeps you on edge without any drop in tension whether in the more rock moments or in the pauses where Dorrian's voice becomes incredibly more modulated, almost caressing you. Sensational. Hypnotic and obsessive "Inertia's Cave," very tough and intense. The meanest and most wicked song of the album is "Fangalactic Supergoria," thanks to both the darker sound and Lee's angry and demonic voice. More relaxed is the almost ballad "Blue Light," where Dorrian demonstrates he is at ease even on slower and more psychedelic soundscapes. The work closes with "Palace of Fallen Majesty," pure doom, and the pressing and "electric" "Electric Grave."

In conclusion, it is inevitable to recommend to those who are not familiar with Cathedral's sonic message to get ahead of the times and discover the band, because surely in a few decades it will be considered a cult on par with the masters of the black sabbath.