The third album from these Hampshire traditionalists sees them resigned to their collective fate.
The gleeful anticipation of apocalypse explored on 2012’s God Curse Us has been replaced by a misanthropic resignation that humanity won’t go out with a bang, but that most of us will instead continue to eke out a slow, uneventful crawl towards self-destruction.
The same can be said about Witchsorrow, who are to be lauded for their staunch adherence to doom’s core values, but bring little that’s unique to the table. Ceremonies commence in an uptempo fashion, the NWOBHM-tinged title track building to a precipice from which the funereal march of The Martyr descends into darkness.
Vocalist Necroskull intones solemn forebodings, but struggles to convince. On Made Of The Void he warns of its depths without the band ever conjuring appropriate amounts of dread, thankfully redeemed by the horrific crawl of Disaster Reality. Witchsorrow might look and sound the part, but still lack that elusive element of black magic to make them truly feel like it.
