The mighty crab – a crustacean hailed for a tough exterior, and delicious meaty bits. I’ve spent a lot of time in Maryland, so excuse my references to picking crabs and the cultural significance thereof, of which there will be more than is tasteful in this review. If there’s a crab I’m not going to be screwing with any time soon, it’s Warcrab, as this hulky fellow will pick you and enjoy doing it. The UK death/sludgesters have been at this for well over a decade, and have received nowhere near the amount of deserved plaudits for their waves of astoundingly heavy, sludge thickened death metal concoctions. Their previous effort, Damned in Endless Night, turned these ears quickly, and they’ve been in constant rotation since. Dropping their fourth LP in The Howling Silence, the expectation was at boiling-hot levels.
If unfamiliar, well, we’re here to change that. They successfully play a Bolt Thrower style of death metal, with significant amounts of muck ala Crowbar/Conan/Black Tusk stylings. However, Warcrab stands out amongst peers with the manner in which they approach the subgenre, adding unique grooves and signature songwriting flourishes. The Howling Silence pushes these influences and stylings forward, and as per previous Warcrab albums, boundaries are pushed further; always coming off as fresh as a Maryland Blue right out of the Chesapeake Bay.
Leaning heavily into their death metal side, “Orbital Graveyard” kicks proceedings in a smash you in the face, uncompromising direction. Titanic-sized riffs and vocalist Martyn Grant’s cutting growl push the track forward, which is more up tempo than the typical doom-infused entry. “Titan of War” turns up the groove with a catchy, slightly bouncy lead rhythm, all while never compromising the calamitously crushing nature of their core sound. The grooviness continues on “Black Serpent Coils,” while achieving balance with murky leads that cut deep, filled out by monstrous drum smashing via Rich Parker.
Traversing back towards the punchier death metal influence is the combustible “Sword of Mars,” while the slow building, funeral doom-ish “As the Mourners Turn Away” traverses deep into the murky waters. The title track is the finish – brilliantly building fathoms of pressure, while chugging away with immeasurable heaviness exemplified by straightforward yet memorable riffing. This is a ten minute plus (seafood) chef’s kiss that travels the full spectrum of calm and deliberate to unfurled ferocity.
Fans of either death and/or sludge metal need Warcrab in their lives, with The Howling Silence being further proof of a band who do it better than pretty much everyone else. They’ve gotten more experimental with their songwriting, and the dividends are obvious, resulting in a package that is both cleverly composed and a smashing wooden crab mallet to the exoskeleton. This is the band’s best work to date, and the proof is in the Old Bay seasoning. Er, riffs – I mean riffs, because there’s a lot of them, and they all are top tier. Will we stop with the Maryland/crab references? Nope, no chance, until the band is booked for the most obviously fitting festival in Maryland Deathfest. Well, that actually would make my references worse and more frequent, but nevertheless, it needs to happen. Warcrab is one of the best on the planet, and now, go experience them yourselves, with a side of hush puppies.