Review: We Follow The Earth ‘Foamdrinker’
It isn’t very often that an act comes along that leaves me speechless these days. Mostly, a vast amount of what I listen to has been heard many times before in one guise or another. This is especially true of sludgy post-metal. Yes, I love bands like Tar Pond, Onhou, and Kowloon Walled City, but outside of these, I tend to feel that a lot of similar acts just don’t fire me up with the same level of enthusiasm. That being said, that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for another act to sneak in and shake things up in the way We Follow The Earth do.
On the band’s latest release, Foamdrinker, we find them in an unforgiving and punishing mood, which has given this North Carolina four-piece an opportunity to step forward and really show the universe what they are made of. It’s a dark and dankly pungent affair; guttural growling vocals atop a feral and unrelenting sonic backdrop make for an uncomfortable ride, but then who needed mental stability anyway?
Over the course of an hour, we are ripped to pieces aurally. As the eight tracks only serve to compact the brutality as each sonnet plays through, and by its climax, there is a real need for silence for a little while. It’s an intensely visceral display; each member of the band works in unison to create a landscape that is as bleak as it is troublesome. Using the concepts of a storyline written by founding member Matthew Crotts and his brother Robert, this is so much more than just an album of songs, and as it plays through, it tells the story of existing and surviving in a perpetual winter. It embraces the ideas of living against all odds, working together, and finding an outcome that is more than succumbing to the elements in the futility of the situation.
It’s an incredible premise for an album, with the use of disjointed rhythms and, at times, its utterly incomprehensible ferocity in sound to manufacture an experience which is as rich as it is overwhelming.
Utilising Matthew Pickard and Jason Myers, who occupy the backline masterfully on drums and bass respectively, it leaves Matthew Crotts and Matthew Crotts’s dual guitar attack to fill the dead air with doomy guitar work that rings home a majestic, doom-driven middle ground. Having evolved into a quartet from a trio has revolutionised the band’s sound from the previous outing, 2024’s Extinct, and it makes for a truly magnificent beast this time around.
Opening with the title track, Foamdrinker, it’s straight in with the cataclysmic, as the initially pensive build-up opens out into a filthy guitar-led chug. Compacted further in intensity once Matthew opens his throat and spews forth a barrage of bile-induced lyrics into the ether, it is only the tip of a very hostile territory. Throughout the course of the track, it never really lets off the gas; any remotely quieter segment is swiftly replaced with more fury, and as it leads us through to the following number, it is merciless.
guttural growling vocals atop a feral and unrelenting sonic backdrop…
As the aptly titled Maelstrombegins, there is no calming of the tension; if anything, it becomes even more unforgiving. I think it’s here where I particularly draw comparison with the Netherlands Onhou. It is unrelenting; you actually feel pained listening. This isn’t a slight on the band, quite the reverse; to inspire that kind of feeling is no mean feat. Quite often, a band wants to draw in their audience through easier moments, but that isn’t the case here; it’s more a want to convey the futility and rage in the situation. Again, the backline is sublime, flitting between harsher periods and knowing when to hold back to transcend into sorrow. It’s mournful, but in the greatest way possible.
From here, it really snowballs into a furious experience, filled with slice after slice of feral awesomeness. Aeons, for example, is an absolute masterclass in power meets intensity. It is vibrantly imposing, and as it chugs its way along, it feels like, at any moment, it might break down, only to come back stronger each time. Truly beastly. Black Lamp manages to slow things down, giving time to show that there’s more than one trick to this pony, but no matter how much they calmed the flow, it’s still evident that the ferocity is ever-present.
With both On Violent Waves and Sirens, although slower, there’s still no getting around just how crushing they are. We Follow The Earth is the real deal; there’s no two ways about it. They really understand the environment and make it their own, without sacrificing any legitimacy in the process.
Even by the last two tracks, The Silent Blue and Weight Of The Stars, they still manage to throw out some curveballs. The former is an instrumental piece, which does an adequate job of conveying mood and texture, alongside tone, without a single word being uttered. The latter ties things off with its final outpouring of devastation. Anxiety-inducing, it sure is, but utterly compelling at the same time.
All in all, Foamdrinker is a real triumph. Considering how short their lifespan has been, this feels like a far more established band and sounds as such. Top marks, a truly cracking album.
Label: Independent
Band Links: Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Lee Beamish
