I’m going to listen to your record if your band is described to me as “Black Sabbath meets Portishead.”
Such is Cleveland, Ohio’s Frayle and such is their second album, Skin & Sorrow. The album is as dark and haunting as its cover image of lead singer Gwen Strang, who apparently has walked off the set of a lost Hammer Studios film from the early 1960s. Ms. Strang, and the rest of the band (Sean Bilovecky – guitar, Jason Knotek – bass, and Jon Vinson – drums), immediately give you a sense of, “Do not fuck around with these people. They can be your cool friends who will help you through a lot of stuff, though.”
Which is what Skin and Sorrow does. It’s an album about processing grief and heartbreak. It’s a haunting record, but it does seem to offer hope and beauty. Again, the cover image of Strang dressed as mournful ghost conveys death and dread, but she’s holding white roses. Yes, they’re wilted roses, but they haven’t lost all of their color and pedals. They’re still a bit hopeful.
Bilovecky’s opening riff on “Treacle and Revenge” is almost a Godzilla-like roar and Strang’s voice is like smoke curling around your ears as she sings “You promised to love me.” It sounds like the beginning of a curse. The song goes from doom into a brief tear of stadium rock, showing they have serious chops. Knotek’s bass seems to hit extra hard on “Bright Eyes” while Strang sings lullaby-like vocals drifting from an abandoned hospital that’s overgrown with ivy. The title track starts with Link Wray-like guitar chords from Bilovecky, and Vinson’s drums sound like they were recorded late one night / early one morning in the store room of a bar run by warlocks.
It’s interesting how “Ipecac,” a song whose title is the name of medicine that purposefully induces vomiting, is one of the loveliest on the record. Strang sings about purging past wounds and things that are slowly poisoning her, but does it with a sensuality you can’t ignore. The heavy, cosmic “Stars” is a crushing track, both lyrically and sonically.
“Roses” and “Sacrifant” are equally heavy and mesmerizing. “Sacrifant” also has this buzz to it like an angry queen hornet following you around the room. “All the Things I Was” has the queen hornet turn into a raven flying away from Strang and carrying her past trauma on its back to eventually cast into the sun. You’re fully expecting “Song for the Dead” to be creepy and guttural, but it’s more like emerging from a mausoleum as a lovely sunrise has begun. Yes, you might be emerging from it as a ghost, but you’re realizing that it’s going to be okay. The closing track, “Perfect Wound,” reminds me a bit of Nirvana‘s “Something in the Way” with its guitar strums and subject matter, but it’s far more otherworldly than Nirvana’s song, and Strang’s vocals come from under a bridge guarded by sirens instead of trolls.
Skin & Sorrow is beautiful and dark, lovely and sad, uplifting and haunting. How many other bands could pull off a sound like that on just their second record? Not many.
Keep your mind open.
[I’ll have sorrow if you don’t subscribe.]
[Thanks to Maria at Adrenaline PR.]
