Demon Lung
The Hundredth Name

Nowadays, doom metal is divided into a myriad of subgenres that are not always up to par; in fact, we often witness a strange competition between bands: winning the cup for the slowest and most stretched (or convoluted, depending on the point of view) sound, with the result of boring the most patient and accustomed listener. Not that we are faced with a masterpiece, mind you, but "The Hundredth Name," the first full-length album by Demon Lung, released in 2013 after the decent EP "Pareidolia" the previous year, delivers a massive and sulfurous doom. Based in Las Vegas, the band rides a sound rooted in tradition, respecting the genre's rules, but their offering is based on lyrics and riffs that seem better than today's average; the rhythm section seems recorded in a very deep cave, while the powerful guitar parts immerse us in a sabbatical ritual atmosphere, already evident from the composition titles, thunderously satanic in flavor. But the Americans' secret weapon is Shanda Fredrick, a female singer, uncommon in the metal scene, who gives the band an extra edge: chanting and evocative voice, yet so robust that it could be mistaken for a man's voice: the performance closely resembles that of Christian Lindersson of Count Raven, with a singing style that truly muddies the entire work in a gloomy way.

There are indeed remarkable moments: the opener "Binding of The Witch" starts with four minutes of ominous and admonitory drone, the sabbath-like "Devil's Mind" possesses a rhythm that is hard to forget, "Eyes of Zamiel" showcases Fredrick's dark vocal qualities, while "Hex Mark," with a relatively faster pace, offers a sort of respite to the oppressive monolith crafted by the American moniker, with significant help from Billy Anderson, producer for Sleep, Melvins, and Neurosis; keyboards, organ, and splashes of acoustic guitar play discreetly, yet help to complete the particular vibrations the album emanates. However, the second half of "The Hundredth Name" loses the luster and creativity of the initial start, showing obvious debts to Candlemass, Saint Vitus, and Pentagram, and certainly does not shine for originality; despite the flaws, the attempt by Shanda and her companions to seek a personal path within a genre that is difficult to renew, without falling into the trap of monotonously reiterating what is inherent in doom itself, remains commendable and more successful compared to contemporary offerings by other bands. The subsequent concept "A Dracula" will expand the band's ritualistic and occult component, steering into acid and psychedelic territories; thus, a variety that promises a complete maturation and an evolution towards increasingly complex and layered soundscapes.