Young Widows
In And Out Of Youth And Lightness

THE REVIEW

Aristotle saw wonder as the starting point of his studies, which gradually led to questioning the why of the what. I feel the same wonder when listening to the new work by Young Widows, and I ask myself "why?" and I am prepared to find even the what, and to hell with Aristotle.

The path that led them from "Old Wounds" to this new work is steeped in dust, the blood that once flowed clear from wounds inflicted by distortions now festers under the ashes, becoming a heavy memory, establishing itself in the brain, a rusty fixed idea, and the light dims to give the ghosts a chance to devour our listener sensations.

The doors of this dilapidated house in Kentucky are opened by the splendid "Young Rivers", with a guitar arpeggio in call and response with a warm voice, memories of Americana, echoes of melancholy, and even the percussion answers, as the piece unfolds through these lost roads. The subjugated fury of "Future Heart" is something splendid, punk in disguise of Waits-ian voices, extremely tight, intense, and full of blood. But the best is yet to come, the title track is a Sabbathian percussive ballad, the voice growing ever deeper, the guitars, though weaving high melodies, are distortion at its zenith. The Tomahawk of "Anonymous" comes to mind on the very palm-muted "The Muted Man", which walks beneath the skin, with rare throbbing guitar lashes growing, a stoner drunk on noise. A special mention to the final "In And Out Of Youth" with an endless mantra that introduces the end of the hopes of youth, until it explodes in a neurotic march made of outbursts, mercilessly recounted by the voice of this young man in black that is Evan Patterson.

I filled a jar of ice cream with sand to worthily accompany this summer soundtrack of mine. Enjoy your meal.