I first encountered Undersmile at a gig in Colchester a couple of years back. I had primarily gone to see Witch Sorrow, and Undersmile were headlining that particular night. As much as I had enjoyed Witch Sorrow’s set, I was much more captivated by Undersmile. The Babes In Toyland aesthetic and sombre duel vocals of guitarists Hel Sterne and Taz Corona-Brown, combined with the slower-than-slow doom dynamic, was utterly riveting. I noted at the time “…and Undersmile, female-fronted, choral-style vocals, and roughly 5 or 6 years between each chord…”
So it should come as no surprise that the Oxford band’s 2nd full-length release is a long album (a good 70 minutes or so), but what is surprising is how mellow some of it is. The use of clean guitar, and cello in most tracks, is striking. With the vocals gently circling the air, as if blown in from a séance.
Mention must go to drummer Tom Mckibbin and bass player Olly Corona-Brown, whose patience and consistency pays dividends to Undersmile’s quiet/loud approach on ‘Anhedonia’.
The opening track ‘Labyrinths’ is actually quite understated and hymn-like, before the first slab of heavy guitars kick in at around the 4 minute mark, punctuating the vocal lines as the track becomes more anguished. ‘Sky Burial’ shows a Sabbath influence to the guitars as well as a grunge one, as the vocals instruct “There’s no one else, I’m the only one…the job is mine”, and the quiet disembodied voices that are present in the track, prove quite unnerving upon the first listen.
The melody of ‘Song of Stones’ is actually rather touching, and then the guitars push forward bold and sneering, before ending the track on reverb. The cello is effectively used here, and makes quite an impact, as it does with the guitar bends of ‘Aeris’. The heavier presence of ‘Atacama Sunburn’ intones “Out near the bay where the weeds grow thick, I am tired, but I swim on…” before snarling back with some heavy vibes, a nursery rhyme incantation, and a clean stop/start arrangement, before a final massive chord closes the lid on this particular highlight.
More watery intonations appear in ‘Emmenagogue’, but this time there’s a more prolonged style of doomy riffing, with the “shut” of drums and the emotive wail of cello being particularly prominent, and then we are presented with the final track ‘Knucklesucker’. With its tribal drum pattern and gently swarming ghost-like vocals, this track chimes with fuzz guitar (and a bass break that sounds so down-tuned, you’d be able to trip over the strings) before the song rides-out in the gloriously grungy refrain of “I don’t feel hollow, I don’t feel sorrow, I don’t feel anything really”.
Marvelously miserable and beautiful at the same time, this album is 70 minutes very well spent. Even though “Anhedonia” is actually defined as “…the inability to experience pleasure from activities usually found enjoyable”, there is plenty of “enjoyment” to be found in Undersmile’s snails-pace torment. It’s a curiously relaxing and hypnotic album (put this one on your headphones and just let it flow), it never seems overlong or protracted. The music is allowed to take it’s time and weave it’s despair naturally, and though we are only a few months in, ‘Anhedonia’ is a strong contender for album of the year.
(9.5/10 Stuart Carroll)
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