„Deathless is meant as a judgement of the purveyors of systemic transphobia and a balm to those suffering beneath its hold” say Hellish Form and hike the path from Remains-Cemetery past mighty cathedrals up into the light.
In terms of interpretation, the artwork (by Cauê Piloto) of Willow Ryan’s second joint record (vocals, guitar, synthesizer – otherwise with Body Void or Atone encountered) and the others in the ranks of Keeper or Elder Devil delivering Jacob Lee (vocals, guitar, bass) the orientation to a certain extent already: Hellish Form follow the same aesthetic as their 2021 debut, balancing their doom and sludge with a rich synth patina that is more than just an embellishment, but the colors are now noticeably more powerful – the bright passages brighter, the dark passages more sinister , and towering over the heights on the way up.
That means: Deathless continues in the broadest sense what is already there Remains did, just a little bit better with a few cleverly readjusted screws, sounding out the amplitudes more powerfully and more confidently. So you buckle under all the comparisons that come up Pallbearer or Warning finally no longer: the 48 minutes of the record fly by remarkably entertaining and, despite their self-contained coherence, by no means monotonous, the atmospheric density cultivates a holistically captivating arc of suspense with a subversive sense of dynamics, so that there is not a second of boredom.
Sad and nasty, majestic and dark, heavy and uplifting, grim despair is raised to a graceful pedestal and the beauty of tragedy is celebrated until the pathetic gesture is slowly crushed with angry attitude: the songwriting, the sound and the presence of Deathless is finally first class – but at least underlines practically everything at a consistently high level, with what Hellish Forms already triumphed two years ago.
The opener and title song shows how overwhelming the duo can act in the ideal case. After its intro, which enriches the drone with retro-futuristic ambient keyboard worlds, it first drags riff cascades of heroic venerability along Lee’s poisonous hissing vocals in slow motion, the fairytale shimmer but then allows it to thrive until a simply outstanding finale comes to a head, which is so imaginatively fulfilling as if you were drifting into the vastness of space to transcend there in the epiphany.
Texas is Sinking later acts similarly, only more mundanely, if you will: the synths have a lovely sweetness and show how trhä could paste without grotesque absurdity, before first a mortifying confidence is patiently repeated, Hellish Form lift the palette, and then from a Primitive Man- ugly hell of ugly wickedness in all the more uplifting enthroned realms that explore extremes as triumphant parades. None of the 16 minutes is wasted, whatever the case Transfigure applies – even if the number meanders a little bit at the back, the last few meters stagnate in terms of development and ultimately a fade out takes the only conditionally most elegant way out. After all, the album alone here otherwise misses the picturesque range of grungy from the pastoral-sacred start including musty funeral growls by Ryan Thou to melodramatic My Dying Bride.
Pink Tears then by far the shortest number is the forgiving, suffering epilogue, which muses in soft harmony, lets the synth float as a piano in thoughtful heaviness, and dreams of an alternative reality of the 80s, um Deathless to round off as a whole. The fact that the impression always resonates that the duo is still not operating at its performance limit can and must be understood as additional praise.
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