This reviewer likely isn’t the first to note that Hell’s moniker is a little bit on the nose, naming one of the doomiest of contemporary doom metal projects. Matthew Scott Williams (better known by his metal sobriquet MSW — emphatically not Master of Social Work, but so go the perils of acronyms…) has been making music as Hell for nearly 20 years now, and he has played and sung nearly every noise on the band’s releases: five LPs, an EP and numerous splits, with excellent company like Thou, Mizmor and Primitive Man. It’s a suitably gravid body of work. Hell’s music tends to move at tectonic, ponderous scales, so at least a few of the song titles from Submersus also come close to expressing risible assertions: “Hevy” (yep, no “a”), “Gravis,” “Bog.” As is often the case with Hell’s records, the kicker is in the music. It’s excessive, affectingly replete with dread and very, very good.
Listeners who have been tuned in to Hell (an entertaining clause to compose…) over the long haul can note some variations in the degrees of sonic unpleasantness. This reviewer first encountered MSW’s work when Hell II (2010) emerged from an awful, abject portal — likely located somewhere in Williams’ head, poor dude. That record was a good deal more dissonant than much of the project’s output, the downtunage acquiring a filthy, nasty texture. Hell III (2012) cleaned up the production considerably and suggested a much greater appetite for melody and for harmonics that occasionally glistened. “Factum,” a relatively brief (at just over four minutes) interlude on Submersus, flirts with a similarly melodic sensibility, and the riffs toward the middle of “Mortem” manage something akin to a shimmer.
But most of the record shudders with rancor and thunders with grim grit — and those are excellent qualities in doom. With those parameters in mind, the album’s longest song “Gravis” may be its strongest. It’s a miserable affair. The bass functions as a sort of principal melodic voice (if that’s a relevant concept here), shepherding things along through a sucking slough of despond. When the song bottoms out, the rhythm falls out of its slog and distortion crackles at the tonal edges. It’s less a relief than a sort of surrender. Voices in mournful chorus seek to brighten things, but their funereal cadence just ends up adding to the despondent fade. Are we in Hell? Look around. Is there anywhere else?
FYI, doom freaks hoping for physical versions of Submersus should look to do some biz with Sentient Ruin Laboratories, which will offer a full array of media.
