Written during the absolute throes of the pandemic, where suffering and pain seemed to be the only content in our news cycle, Seventh Hymnal carries with it a weight of pain that’s definitely undeniable. Just from the first few ominous, haunting, and stirring strings of Bayou, you find yourself completely enthralled and also slightly scared of what’s to come across this record. A strangely bewitching take on classical folk melodies spun through a distinctively modern indie rock lens, the entire album feels singular in its sound. There aren’t many parallels I can draw that would give you as a listener too much more background on what to expect. But, what I can do is highlight the feeling of this record, the sheer scale of their imagination, and the darkness they carry with them.
‘Bayou’ is as powerful an opener as they come. Limited in its vocal performance, the song focuses on setting a mood through a haunting acoustic melody and foreboding percussive elements before a scenic and expressive violin starts to close out the track whilst bringing in its successor in at the same time. ‘Little Death’ sees the lyrical frame of the record first revealed. The ominous lyrics and otherwise dark mood feel like you’re hearing some sort of medieval folk tune warning you about some horrible evil. The songs across the record seem to flow into one another so seamlessly, such that the entire record feels like a singular experience from end to end.
What’s clear is that if you find the opening track immediately unsettling, the rest of the album isn’t going to do you any favours. However, if it does manage to pique your interest, if it elicits some sort of strange curiosity, and if it has you looking inward into your darkest corners, it’s done its job and then some. For a devout folk fan like myself, this rather grim and ominous take on the genre is a refreshing and welcome interpolation.