The Plague is [post=omenopus-time-flies text=”Omenopus”]‘ sophomore album, a double disc worth of songs that takes us on a whirlwind of an emotional rollercoaster ride across its two silvery surfaces.
Dark brooding keyboards begin “Part One(Plague of Ten),” then come in Bridget Wishart’s nursery rhyme vocals as she counts down the plagues from ten to one. This begins to sound like a child’s lacerated vision of hell but is saved from despair by an oriental sounding keyboard lead that keeps some element of hope. “Part Two (Plague of Fire)” begins with haunting Mellotron choirs before a steady rock drums take over and big bass notes rumble, vicious black metal-sounding vocals lament the plagues of fire and the Styx, and big metal guitar chords chunk away until it reaches its battlefield end. Lilting piano and voice begin “Part 3’ (Plague of Solitude)” to create a strange wistful air of melancholia. When sad flanged keyboards come in it gives off a feel reminiscent to that of “The Other Side of Life” by Japan. “Part Four (A litany in Time of Plague)” begins with a spoken word eulogy and reminds one of the work of Current 93 during the early nineties, especially their Of Ruine or Some Blazing Star album. Percussion hits in and again we are back to the darker metal end of rock and the mixture of male and female vocals creates a similar atmosphere to that of early Within Temptation releases. After clanging guitars and tolling bells the piece finishes with quiet chords and a sense of reflection. The track as a whole makes for a bleak journey to the nether regions of the pit of human experience, a sword in the heart of hope and a road most of us would not want to tread.
Disc two, or “Scars” as its known, consists of six songs. I can kind of understand splitting the songs over two discs rather than placing them on one; it gives the feel again of those old progressive rock albums that would have their 20 minute magnum opus on one side and you flip the disc over for four or five shorter tracks that would generally convey a different mood. “Sentiments” opens the disc with a bass drum from the deep before lighter guitar and percussion take over that gives the track a slight taste of Meddle-era Pink Floyd and a strange kind of Eastern influence seems to cling to the track like an awkward spider as the rhythm jitters. “Songline” has droning didgeridoo and tribal percussion to discuss the Aboriginal energy song stories that gives off a feel of paintings in a dark recess of Uluru and the wind blowing across red sands. “Brookleaze” is a thoughtful piano and keyboard piece conjuring up the feel of autumnal days and the image of a dead leaf travelling down a cold stream.“The Binary Dimension” is an airy keyboard interlude that ends with deep synthesizer throbs – this melds into the space rock opening of “My Secret Ghost.” This track comes across as a punky straight ahead rocker that has an eerie quality of being sucked into a black hole or trapped within a haunted realm with its sense of urgency. “Second Sight” gives off a uncanny mystical otherness over tumbling rhythms and mist-like keyboards. The track picks up momentum so that the Magellanic clouds of keyboards morph together as the big guitar riff punches in for its ending foray into doom.
As a whole the album comes across as a nervous walk through darkened woods with sometimes glimmers of a cloudless sky breaking through the canopy of trees. As with all Monty Maggot releases thus far, the cover is a glorious-looking affair with brooding skies that aptly sum up the music within. If you place the discs into your computer you get extra tracks and a number of out-takes that helps give the album a cinematic dimension. It’s certainly value for money and another great release from the label, buy it, but don’t play it on a stroll through the woods as it might awaken something from the elder times of imagination.
-Gary Parsons-
