WINDHAND

Some doom drags you under. Windhand pull you in and let you drift. Formed in Richmond, Virginia, at the end of the 2000s, the band grew from a shared upbringing on heavy music and psychedelia and found its sound by letting it happen. The debut Windhand (Forcefield Records, 2012) was recorded by the band itself, and Soma (Relapse Records, 2013) made the underground sit up and land on a score of year-end lists. Grief's Infernal Flower (Relapse Records, 2015) kept it there, before Eternal Return (Relapse Records, 2018), made with producer Jack Endino, stripped the sound back towards its grunge and psychedelic core. In certain circles they have long since passed into legend, and now Windhand are writing the follow-up, their first full-length since.

‍

The foundation is weight: low, fuzzed guitars that shudder, rhythms that pound, and a grunge pulse that keeps the riffs singing instead of grinding. Riffs come by the dozen. Above them Dorthia Cottrell, the charismatic centre of it all, lets her voice rise unhurried and haunting, moving from the hush of a ballad to the full push of the band. Garrett Morris layers guitar over guitar and lets his solos wander out over his own riffs, so the songs breathe in long, slow swells, and the pull is hypnotic.

‍

WHAT TO EXPECT

Windhand settle into the chest before anyone has found a place to stand. Down-tuned guitars send a tremor up through shins and knees, and then the voice steps out, clearer here than on record, and lands somewhere beneath the ribs. It is mourning with the fuzz left on, heavy and sweet at once. Necks nod in time, shoulders drop, eyes close, and the whole room sinks into one slow pulse. Windhand rarely reach this side of the Atlantic, so this comeback is worth being in the room for.