Gloom Rock Asylum

My local record store was sorely lacking in the essentials department but certainly had some pretty hard to find shit once in a while. I guess they must have some dealings with Russians or something. Case in point: this Jack Frost release, Gloom Rock Asylum, that somehow came into my possession around 2004—an Austrian goth/doom band obscure enough that this is literally the very first review of them in this website.

Man, this is a downer. People who aren’t really into depressive music usually think of goths as depressed people, but if you’re a little bit more in the know, you tend to associate goth with music that is, yes, a tad gloomy in atmosphere but still more energetic and upbeat than the typical doom band, for instance, often with some electronic elements or a post-punk beat—goth clubs have people dancing to The 69 Eyes, Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie or Deathstars, not to My Dying Bride, after all. In metal, the goth/doom mixture is usually seen as more accessible, less “true” than pure undiluted doom, but such is definetely not the case here. Unless you like your music really Forest of Equilibrium slow, this isn’t an accessible record at all.

Not only is it slow, it’s utterly morose. Now, slow doesn’t necessarily means depressing, but here it all comes with a great deal of hopelessness, no doubt in part as result of the sedate vocal delivery, as if the cold were gradually taking all of one’s vitality away. This is music to listen to in winter days, crawling up under the covers and just surrendering yourself to depression, seasonal or otherwise. The more audible gothic elements are Manfred Klahre’s (credited as Phred Phinster in the booklet... everyone has a quirky alias here) bassy, Peter Steele-style vocals, and sometimes the hypnotic rhythm guitar, reminiscent a bit of later Tiamat or mid-period Katatonia, though usually played at like half the usual speed. But even when the other instruments pick up a bit of a faster rhythm, the vocals are still in no hurry. Even the first real song, the hilariously titled “You Are The Cancer,” and the fastest one here to open the album, is still at best a mid-paced affair. Album closer, “Beyond the Rubicon,” goes for broke with a quiet, repetitive three note leitmotif, backed by tribal-ish drums and clean guitar, switching into an old Cathedral-style riff whose aftertaste is something like a painful pang of loneliness as the record comes to a stop.

Jack Frost’s greatest accomplishment, which I guess comes not without a healthy dose of self-awareness, is transforming the Mamas and the Papas’ 60’s hit “California Dreamin’” into a funeral dirge. Check out that deathmarch drumming and droning guitars as Mr. Klahre/Phinster mournfully describes how the leaves are brown and the sky is gray. For the chorus: downtuned tremolo riffs. And to cap it off, a cello solo over double bass drums—the cello, by the way, is another high point in this album, adding an extra dramatic punch on key moments of “You Are The Cancer,” “Sink,” and “Beyond the Rubicon.” The original is roughly two minutes and a half long, but this cover goes for six minutes, though it doesn’t really feel boring or like the material is stretched too thin.

All the songs in Gloom Rock Asylum clock in at between four and six minutes, always adhering to a more conventional verse-chorus-verse structure. However, despite the constant mood and tempo, each has something that makes the song unique, if you listen closely, and some attention is paid to keep things from getting too formulaic, though again it takes paying more attention than most people are willing, I guess. With exception of the intro, there are no fillers and no bad songs, though this could be a potential complaint as it demonstrates somewhat of a lack of ambition—and truly, this is far from groundbreaking, its most innovative element being the use of the cello. This is also a short album for the genre, at only 39 minutes, which may be to its advantage as it, combined to the short song lengths, increases each song’s replay value—and this is really an album that grows on you with repeated listens. It’s just that slow.

I’m really inclined to be sympathetic to Jack Frost and Gloom Rock Asylum. Discreet, unassuming and unpretentious, this is just very well-made gothic doom for when you get tired of listening to the same Type O Negative records over and over. If you like slow music, deep vocals and a miserable wintry atmosphere, Jack Frost is your man.