Napalm Records
10/10/25
Words by Greg Walker
A clandestine synthesis of dense necromantic Modern Doom and Blackgaze, Frayle is one of the most intriguing modern metal projects, able to convey a funereal heaviness without relying on pummelling speed or ridiculous breakdowns.
Frontwoman Gwyn Strang’s vocals are a wraithlike fog entwined within Sean Bilovecky’s cumbrous guitar work, the duo conjuring an impressive body of music since their 2017 inception, culminating in a potential album-of-the-year in their upcoming Heretics & Lullabies. In 2021’s standalone single, Frayle artfully turned Bauhaus gothic rock staple Bela Lugosi’s Dead into a macabre witch’s brew and appropriate allure for the following year’s sophomore album, Skin & Sorrow, featuring the tortured title track and the syrupy Treacle & Revenge. In 2025, Frayle have injected more orthodox elements into their dark ambience, harvesting a somewhat more accessible end result on Heretics & Lullabies.
A phantasmic sultriness drives opening track and lead single Walking Wounded. The hypnotic chorus melody ensnares, with Gwyn’s contemptuous growl at the end of each verse spitting venom for herself and the men who left the subject a Walking Wounded. Second single Summertime Sadness deftly turns the Lana Del Rey lament into an imposing requiem, capitalising on Strang’s characteristic breathy delivery oozing dark solace. Boo is a pleasant surprise, a monster chorus riff behind a seemingly cheesy song title, lyrically not so much a threat as a promise. The opening third of Heretics & Lullabies exhibits as more mainstream than previous Frayle material, but not so much as the light is piercing the dark as the band’s shadow has tainted the light. The result is a curious rock element to the lumbering doom.
The middle act is what I came for, the guts of this album having more in common with traditional Frayle. Demons serves up twisted bends, hulking guitar tones, swirling vocals – there’s nothing commercial about this one. Lyrically, this could be misconstrued as an empowering message of being stronger than your demons, however, the danger is in the potential to emerge as the bigger demon. Souvenirs Of Your Betrayal is immensely dark, a smoky vocal echoes down into an aural whirlpool, discordant, disturbingly attractive, perfectly imparting the haunting, all-consuming doubt of self-worth of one left forsaken by the sins of another. A heartfelt ode to the cheated, tears actually welled at the naked vulnerability, a contrast to the assured strength of self in Demons. A swelling Leviathan, Glass Blown Heart is a stirring behemoth with an irresistibly seductive hook. Is it coincidence that this song’s acronym is GBH? Because it’s a slow-motion beating we’re subjected to, eroding our resolve until ultimately, we accept the chilling persistence of a stalker in a warped version of musical Stockholm Syndrome. An absolute highlight.
Hymn For The Living is another suffocating affair with a hint of melody injected into the chorus. An open letter from the transcended to the passing, rattling toms late in the arrangement are as tightly wound as the composition as a whole, closing with an incredibly satisfying big finish. Most recent single Heretic returns to the earlier tracks’ more commercial feel, boasting a Mushroomhead vibe to the chorus courtesy of that band’s former co-frontman J. Mann injecting a wonderful element of maliciousness via his trademark bark. A monstrous articulation of contemptuous disdain for the Sith-like absolutes of organised religion, Heretic might be the most accessible track in this collection, but it is a well-balanced and memorable highlight as a result.
To finish, Only Just Once returns to the darkness, as colossally desolate a conclusion as we could hope for from this ensemble of refined Modern Doom. A beautiful, clean breakdown before Sean Bilovecky’s grandiose ending leaves us with an earworm of a melody that could be mistaken for a variation of the album’s opening riff, a powerful parting gift. For some bands, the singles are the best work and the rest of the album falls disappointingly short; Frayle’s approach is smart – utilising the singles containing an injection of accessibility to attract the fly, the rewarding honey being indulgent deep cuts such as Glass Blown Heart and Souvenirs Of Your Betrayal.
A cabalistic burlesque extravaganza, Heretics & Lullabies emanates a dread not unlike floating in the ocean at midnight on a starless night, a never-ending abyss of viscoid black falling away beneath your feet. A natural progression that doesn’t stray too far from the path they’ve laid for themselves, Heretics & Lullabies is baleful, unnerving, unsettlingly seductive, and poised to be a stepping stone to greater triumphs for a very deserving Frayle.
