Year of Metal #048: YOB - Our Raw Heart
A new contender enters the arena - YOB’s beautiful, gigantic 2018 record is the one to beat. It’s doom once again but there’s nothing devilish or despairing about Our Raw Heart. Instead we’ve got three long haired, nice looking dudes from Oregon bashing away at hefty, heavy sounds, but with a soaring, optimistic undertone throughout.
The record begins with a one-two punch of sorts - a particularly slow one, running at over 20 minutes for the opening pair of tunes. “Ablaze” showcases YOB’s gamut of sounds in short order, from the thudding, trad-doom hit, slowly focussing on melody, occasionally dropping away for some prettier, quieter stuff. The closing rumble of feedback bleeds straight into “The Screen”, one of the heaviest tracks on the LP. The guitars scrape and needle, the bass gurgles away on an unerringly sinister riff. All the while, Mike Scheidt, the band’s sole permanent member since their early ‘00s inception, proves himself one of the most versatile vocalists I’ve heard thus far, doing everything from laconic stoner gear to monster growls to operatic high notes.
Less obviously ambitious but still great is “In Reverie”, which is just good, crushing doom metal. Sometimes on these records I’m looking for a hook beyond the aggression, a little melody or groove to keep my ear engaged. On Our Raw Heart, YOB have already thrown so many ideas into the pot by the 20 minute mark that I’m more than happy to just nod to something relatively simple, especially when it’s played and recorded with as much oomph as this.
The real masterpieces, though, are the record’s two longest tracks. “Beauty In Falling Leaves”, without giving up any volume or fire, is just gorgeous. It feels like an ornate, bonafide classic, stretched out in every direction. Instead of experimenting with a multitude of ideas, they stick to great, patient verses and a heartbreaking chorus and sink as far into them as they can get. It’s so lovely and yet avoids being the least bit slushy by firing up the distortion and pummelling the life out of the ride cymbals. It’s simultaneously so minimalist and maximalist, a chewy 16 minute composition that you wouldn’t imagine would be off putting to any listener.
The closing title track is a little more complex, shifting through a few more distinct sections, but again it reaches immense heights and is a truly epic way to close out an album that just had to end on something big. This is YOB at their cautiously upbeat best; they’re still loud as fuck, but there’s nothing punishing about this music. By the 10 minute mark, Scheidt starts teasing out a solo which begins cautiously but grows in pomp until we’re in Slash-in-front-of-the-church territory. They’ve even the temerity to fade out after four minutes of action, still thrashing away, having the time of their lives making this humongous, joyous racket.
What a record, man. When you’re putting out over 70 minutes of noisy stuff, it’s never going to be an album that you can slip on at any time of the day, but I’ll most assuredly be returning to this, and to YOB in general. The two proper sprawlers are in masterpiece territory, the rest is very good to great - a fantastic discovery.
