by Jeremy Zerbe
The howl of an air-raid siren introduces Stockholm’s Spelljammer on their fourth release, Abyssal Trip, as guitars land like paratroopers and the album’s lumbering first riff begins to take shape. When the drums finally fall into place, we’re off into the sludge of “Bellwether,” a six-and-a-half minute march into the loom on a path well trodden by bands like Sleep and Windhand.
There are only six tracks on this 43-minute record, making it Spelljammer's most populous and longest, but each (except for the penultimate “Peregrine”) stretches out beyond that six minute mark, giving the trio the room they need to let their massive riffs fly free. As the opening track wails to a close, we transition into the headbanging hustle of “Lake,” which belies the band’s desert rock roots before a slam of the brakes turns it over into a thunderous round of muddy refrain. The band gears back up and runs through paces across the switchback once more before descending into a relaxed, slithering groove only to slowly build into a heady rumbler that provides the throbbing undercurrent for a squalling, wah-laden lead line to slice through.
From that Fu Manchu-styled half-piper, the Swedes then take us along to their burning church on “Among the Holy,” where black-metal snarled vocals take their first real prominence of the record before falling away to soaring guitars that scream out toward the heavens. The final moments of understated contemplation give way to the eponymous track, heralded by a series of frenzied rantings culled from the 1972 hippie-horror flick Blood Sabbath. The medium-paced track features a Juciferian dose of doom, guitars groaning with the weight of thick fuzz before a pickup mid-way drives it home as echoed vocal layers rise like bubbles to the surface.
The last leg of Spelljammer’s leviathan voyage begins with a tight, chorus-washed interlude that shimmers like the reflection of a bird on a sun-glittering tide before diving into the inky depths once more with "Silent Rift.” On this closing ten-minute-long jam, Robert Sörling’s guitar cuts a swirling path through the icy dark liquid of Niklas Olsson’s bass-line and the clockwork rhythm of Jonatan Rimsbo’s final recessional march.
While the band doesn’t break any wildly new ground on Abyssal Trip, the sonic experience of crashing along through its waves should be enough enticement for any doom fans to drop the needle and crank it up. It’s just the trip advertised, and probably the band’s most complete effort to date. It would have taken maybe one more engine-revver like “Lake” to fully round out the tunes here, but it’s a raucous feast of squeals and sludge all the same.