Somehow the seedy dive bar you enter is darker than the night outside. The music throbs, sending out pulses your cerebral cortex can’t process but some older, primordial part of your brain instinctually knows, and understands. It’s that crux, that convergence of the primal beat that falls partly between the post punk of the early 80s and the tradition of gothic rock and roll, where early Danzig meets The Cult and howl into the moonlight. Call it whatever you want, “death rock” or otherwise; there’s no mistaking the bleeding heart of influence laid bare on the sleeve of The Wraith. To have something like Gloom Ballet arrive like a shot so late in the year is like that one drink at said bar that puts you over the edge from wary observation to full-on goon dance, and it’s a marvel to experience. Continue reading
