Aural Aggravation

Within the broad church of metal and its many offshoots – rock, doom, stoner and all the rest – it remains a minor thrill to stumble across a group who seem to exist at a slight tangent to everything else. Crumbling Ghost is one such anomaly and an irresistible one at that: a group who feel less like a discovery than a secret belatedly shared. Hopefully, a secret no longer as New Heavy Sounds is proud to present to you their latest album ‘Four’.

Crumbling Ghost are not newcomers. They’ve been operating for some time, releasing records sporadically, Four is in fact their fourth release.  Along the way they’ve accumulated a fervent coterie of followers, not to mention the occasional nod of approval from tastemakers such as Stuart Maconie, Stewart Lee and Tom Ravenscroft. And though they’ve appeared at Roadburn, shared stages with Hawkwind and even Damo Suzuki, they remain (possibly by design) curiously under‑the‑radar. That might change with the quite wonderful Four.

The group’s core idea is deceptively simple: traditional folk material rearranged and refracted through the haze and heft of heavy, fuzzy stoner rock with a  chunk of psyche and a smattering of doom. But crucially, this is done without the costumery and theatrical tics that often accompany such collisions.  No mock‑pagan pageantry, no graveyard cosplay, no cartoon Satanism.

What Crumbling Ghost latch onto is not folk as a museum piece, but as a lived experience, the dramas rooted in the culture, stories, and daily lives of ordinary people, the folklore, the tales of love and death, murder and adultery, freedom and oppression.

On Four those narratives are dragged into the present via churning distortion, hypnotic repetition and a sense of looming atmosphere. Fairport Convention with fuzz. Trees with heft. A pastoral Sonic Youth.

Singer Katie Harnett says, “Doting mothers, possessive, violent partners, vulnerable women, seasonal workers and Royal scandals this album is our representation of the trials and tribulations of human existence and universal experiences that still feel relevant today, an interpretation of traditional tales  along with original compositions presented in our own Crumbling Ghost style”.

Guitarist John adds, “Themes of murder, betrayal, loss, jealousy, and love are found across the record.  In particular, the songs of Martin Carthy have been a particular source of inspiration”.

The result is a set of murder ballads, supernatural reckonings and cautionary tales, all wrapped in slabs of heavy, thumping fuzz and atmospheric sonics. Harnett’s voice sits at the centre: unmistakably folk‑rooted, but shorn of prettification, melodic yet capable of real bite. There’s no “hey nonny nonny” here.

Musically, it’s a combination that really does work, and it’s delivered in some style too. And to fully appreciate the world of Crumbling Ghost, listening closely pays dividends, and those stories come to life.

First single, ‘Bill Norrie’ follows, a hooky melody propelled by an insistent bassline and a haunting psych tinged haze punctured with sheets of noise… The story of young Bill Norrie who sends a token to a married woman, whose jealous husband beheads him, without knowing he was his wife’s son from an earlier affair. Vocalist Katie Harnett commets,

“Bill Norrie is about a young woman, who has been taken  advantage of, who has hidden a pregnancy, probably because having a  child out of wedlock would have brought shame on the family. Her  illegitimate son Bill has remained in her heart all this time and even  when he is cast down by her jealous husband she defiantly kisses his  severed head ‘cheek and chin’ and vows to never kiss man again, which to  be honest I don’t blame her, given the circumstances. The vocals  start  by setting the scene and gradually builds to its dramatic conclusion. I attempted to capture her sadness, devotion, resilience and ultimate defiance in the face of adversity.”

Guitarist Donny Hopkins adds,

“John (guitarist) saw Martin Carthy play his version of Bill Norrie live at the Cumberland Arms in Byker, Newcastle and fell in love with it. So he adapted a version from Martin Carthy’s 1988 Right of Passage album. As  is often the case, I’d not heard it (still haven’t actually) and worked out some heavy delay parts over the verse around Johns more classic folk  style. I added in the heavy ‘Drop A’ breaks between the verses as a nod to Miami band Torche and their ‘bomb string’.”

AA