We can only really judge music by our reactions—that’s the beauty of what we do here at Casa AMG. We listen, we note, we forget about the review for several weeks days, we stare at our musings as if they are sensible enough, then we cram approximately 700 words together to detail these very important thoughts (or utter disgust). At the end of the day, we’re all chasing that amorphous sensation—a feeling, preferably a strong one, preferably a repeatable one, and preferably a lot of it. Claustrophobe immediately takes the first step toward feeling by using its title to conjure the image of a lone figure staring endlessly into a liminal landscape, frightful of what may come from being inside the walls in the distance. We know these two will never converge, the space seeker and space holder. That unspeakable barrier sometimes lands true too for us, the music listeners, and the artist, the sound maker, but that doesn’t stop us from trying.
I’m not a particularly skilled musician myself, and I won’t pretend for a second that I could play anything that Widow’s Peak does on this technical extravaganza of groovy and deathy leanings. Fitting for fret-melting of this caliber, this Canadian outfit has enlisted the engineering talents of Colin Marston (Krallice, Dysrhythmia, many technical credits), whose ear for accentuation has lent Patricio Paulsen’s detailed kit a bountiful presence. Between clanging timbale1 struts (“Heartworms I Aorta”), heavy tom tribal drives (“Blood on a Breath,” “Pillars of Failure”), and general extreme metal nimbleness, the rhythmic adventure features as Claustrophobe’s most enjoyable nuance. But, if you’re familiar with metal of this deeply intricate and performance-demanding variety, you know that all nuance and no tether make for an unduly challenging listening experience.
Whether it’s the staccato guitar wizardry cutting through the flamboyant skinshow or the driving rhythms snapping through percussive and snaking guitar runs, Widow’s Peak serves a sneaky groove that creates tension near every step of the way. Many songs across Claustrophobe rip with scale-burning intros, reminding me of aggressively neoclassical-minded acts like The Human Abstract but with zero inclination to croon. Rather, new vocalist Travis Godin absolutely tears through various states of throat abuse to charge these already spastic blasts of mathy energy with extra sneers, snarls, bleghs, and whatever ill-advised sounds you could imagine. The chaos on chaos amounts here to an atmosphere so agitated that it can become homogenous. The moments that break this over-churned vitriol—popping bass runs (“The Worming Hour”), silly samples (“Monochrome”), laser swooshes (“Thrombosis”)—break up the breakdown-leaning monotony some. Widow’s Peak has an urge to be a deathcore band, a technical death metal band, and a brutal death metal band all the same time, and I’m not sure it always works.
Widow’s Peak does show promise of a breakthrough, though. Sometimes these Canucks lean heavier into building toward a simpler slam (“Claustrophobe,” “The Worming Hour”) as a punctuation to their note-jammed numbers. Surprisingly, the longest track “Heartworms I Aorta” hits the hardest with Widow’s Peak tearing a page out of the Gojira handbook by giving a little more space to the typically low-end heavy and relentless assault, which sees Paulsen’s percussion talents again taking the spotlight. After some extended flatulent bass noodling and the most impassioned guitar soloing across Claustrophobe ends, “Heartworms II Vena Cava” chugs around reclaiming a touch of that same anthemic groove before cashing in on one more fantastic and isolated solo. A little bit of focus goes a long way.
As swiftly as a Gorguts-ian refrain guides us in and out of Claustrophobe, I am left wondering exactly what has just passed. For the longest time, I thought I’d tucked an hour away with each spin of this promo, but in reality, it runs at a fairly standard 43 minutes. And also every time I finished, I collected the same fleeting moments of wonder amongst the howl and scatter of technical madness. Widow’s Peak has a ton of talent packed across these 11 tracks of modern technical death metal, but much of it flies right by me. Though time can often help us come to new conclusions, I feel that I’ve extracted what I can out of this punishing and puzzling release. Widow’s Peak needs bit more time to parse out the most impactful bits of their wild, dense, and confounding sound.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self Release
Websites: widowspeakyyc.com | wpdm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/widowspeakyyc
Releases Worldwide: July 7th, 2023
