Shroud Eater - Strike the Sun
You want doom bands? Miami is rife with riffs, drone and drums reminiscent of Kong at the gates. However, much like coffee (and weed?) not all strains are created equal. Some bands are cut from a similar cloth and some are tempered steel emerging from the flames of hades and beaten into the formidable weapon that will clear paths and emerge victorious atop a throne of skulls. That would be Shroud Eater; they rule. While for some Miami’s metal scene may seem strange amidst a backdrop of palm trees and beaches, we have a storied history with uncompromising music. Cavity, a band that has probably housed any number of currently relevant metal musicians, hails from the 305; Torche have their roots here; Holly Hunt; CRUD; Orbweaver and WRONG, to name a few. Miami does not kowtow to false metal and if your band isn’t up to the challenge, don’t bother coming here; the locals will eat you alive.
Shroud Eater’s new album, “Strike the Sun” is a monster record that was written in spurts over the last few years. The writing process for any band can be grueling; dealing with personalities, smoothing out rough spots in songs and in some cases shooting down song ideas, all together. It’s tough for even the most luke warm of pop rock bands; bring in a metal band and scotch and the process can be downright contentious. True to that idea, some of the material was written at a transitional time for the band, which lead to some line-up changes and an overhaul of Shroud’s sound. However, much of the material is a product of the trio’s trek to Las Vegas’s Psycho Fest last year as direct support for the band SLEEP. That in and of itself is a feat worthy of heavy praise, however, the band did as much of the recording as D.I.Y as possible; with drummer and facial hair sculpture model, Davin taking the reins as engineer. It is, without a doubt, the best produced Shroud Eater output to date and a solid record of dark musings, thick with thundering blows and witchy vocals.
I’m just saying: I would be careful not to play this record backwards, or anywhere near a ouija board, preferably not while burning candles in a dark room; there’s no telling what would happen if the conditions were right for conjuring a good time.