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After chatting with In This Moment‘s guitarist Chris Howorth and feeling his enthusiasm about the band’s new album Witch, it would almost be rude of me not to give it a spin and share my thoughts. Described by frontwoman Maria Brink as a “declaration of inner transformation,” Witch is widely touted to be amongst the best albums of In This Moment’s career, so let’s find out.
Opener Shame breathes life courtesy of some quiet, almost introspective moments of sonic beauty that soon succumbs to a flurry of distortion as guitars fill the landscape followed by some frentic drumming from Kent Diimmel that eventually entices Brink into action and we are away.
Shame begins with a hoarsely whispered, almost spoken word passage but quickly descends into chaos as the chorus kicks in amid an avalanche of hostility that is accentuated by the heavy as fuck bottom end. It’s an interesting and engaging way to start the album, with tinges of industrial metal overlapping moments of tempered rock with a harsh underbelly. It’s almost like Shame is acting as the opening act of a play that is writing itself, and it definately succeeds in making you more than interested to feel the sonic journey that flows from here.
Dayseeker guest on the next track I Want 2 Believe, which also has a low key intro passage that acts as an accompanyment to some grief infused vocals from Brink. Already In This Moment have created a feeling of mystique with their music, as though painting a blank canvas with music as they go.
The track maintains a slow, steady pace, underpinned by a restrained approach from the rhythm section which only serves to deepen the emotion demanded by the vocals. A vocal breakdown three quarters through quickens things up noticeably, with a sense of anger now creeping through the underlying sadness. It’s difficult to explain this track because it’s not your traditional ballad – although displaying the very traits which should make it so. But it’s good. Very good.
Crawl is next with an electronic infused opening salvo that is soon deflected by a sense of urgency that shuffles in a threatening manner before things pull back into a sinister whisper. The drums dominate most parts of this track, adding impetus by speeding up and then withdrawing in the moments of tension. There is an overriding sense of menace and destruction that has so far dominated the landscape of Witch, with Brink seemingly wrestling her own self in parts, trying to restrain the fear and anger.
Into The Dark has an ominous feel as it stagger to life courtesy of a more restrained Brink. This song is much more withdrawn than the three before it, acting as a beacon of hope amid the previous turmoil. It is a soft and delicate number with minimal instrumentalisation, instead floating on the vocal ability of Brink who is almost mesmerising with her delivery. Despite finding some impetus around half way through, Into The Dark has the feel of a welcome intermission piece without deviating from the mood created before and hopefully to come after.
Sleeping With The Enemy arrives with a bout of electronics as Brink cries out in anguish, berating an unseen adversary to whom she seems to be taking aim at to purge her demons. Her voice shifts from calm and serene to hostile and accusatory with ease, creating a sonic wall of discontent that drips with contempt. In This Moment have mastered the art of being heavy without being overtly heavy, creating a style of music that is both alluring and accessable.
Which isn’t easy.
Wrapped Around Your Finger slowly builds tension through some drawn out notes as Brink lays down her vocals in a more measured fashion that commands respect. Her voice alone is more powerful than most instruments, with the way she embodies a plethora of emotions with consumate ease a major part of In This Moment’s success. Shuffling electronics create an industrial vibe, with just enough to suggest things might elevate rapidly. But they don’t, which only adds to the haunting feelings of emptiness that remain as Wrapped Around Your Finger fades into the darkness from whence it came.
Australian enigma Kim Dracula appears on the next track Heretic, his hoarse whisper of “I am not your friend, I am your enemy” giving a firm indication of what is to come. Things quickly escalate in this track, with Dracula dominating the landscape and creating an even greater sense of foreboding to fit amongst the overall feel of Witch.
This song is pure aggression from start to finish, complete with a nasty vocal breakdown that borders on insanity. I might be wrong but I can’t hear much of Brink in this track, with Dracula instead left mostly to his own devilish devices, leaving Witch in an even greater blanket of mystique than that which has already ben created by the band themselves.
Father opens to the soft strains of electronics that form a swirling pattern of sorrow that draws Brink from her solitude to add her thoughts and feelings. This song again sees her defer to the more subtle side of her vocal delivery, easing the anger still lingering from the previous song. Despite the softer vocals, Father still embodies a sense of longing and sorrow, given impetus by the continual swirls of emotional darkness that continues to build throughout. Again, a ballad while not constituting a ballad if that makes sense.
Without Me There’s No You arrives with a steady bout of electronics and a constant underbelly that creates an atmospheric platform from which to launch the song. There’s an almost science fiction element initially, but that is quickly offset as the drums kick in, adding a touch of urgency and emotion to proceedings. As in every other track on Witch, Without Me There’s No You is a beautifully crafted tune that breathes life of its own while still fitting smugly with the overall aesthetic of the album.
Kat Von D appears on the next song, a cover of Pink Floyd’s masterpiece Another Brick In The Wall. It is a brave band to even attempt to cover such a well loved track, but In This Moment approach it with a degree of arrogance in the sense that they know they can do it justice by adding their own flavour. They have changed the entire feel and structure of the song, and in a brilliantly unique way. There’s splatterings of electronics offset by vocal screams and an almost dance music underbelly that drives Another Brick In The Wall into an altogether new and exciting direction where respect is paid but identity prioritised. It’s nothing like I expected but even better than I thought it ever could be.
Something I Can Never Have rounds out the album, a slow, deliberate opening passage setting the one for a final act of remorseful bliss. Piano/keys accentuate the mood as Brink eases into the picture, her mournful vocals drawing you deeper into a world of sorrow from which you strangely don’t wnt to escape. It is a beautifully fragile way to part ways with In This Moment, who have crafted a piece of sonic maelovolence that is impossible to resist.
Witch is dark, bleak and seemingly without hope, but because of that – and perhaps in spite of that – it is also an extremely uplifting and vibrant album that follows neither rules nor convention. And is so much better for it.
Order Witch HERE
