Sickness

Delaware’s Solitude was a solid four-piece that I’ve always looked kindly on even if I haven’t played this demo in about a decade and a half. It was probably one of the original twenty demos I received for my newly-created zine, which was a thrill ‘cos it meant word was getting around (wow, Delaware…that’s pretty far away [actually from New Jersey it isn’t at all], then I’d spend the rest of my day feeling proud), and it wasn’t unusual to find “Bats in the Bellfry” flapping around some of my self-made compilation tapes.

While sometimes branded as thrash, there is really very little of that territory being tread in Solitude’s sound, at least on this traditionally-based four-tracker. Actually, none can be found here. Traditionally speaking, you won’t mistake these guys for Saxon or any other classic nwobhm band, nor are they anywhere within swinging range of Omen or Lizzy Borden. That’s because the four-piece play with a slowly-ground, methodical approach that, comparably, hearkens doom’s door more so than thrash’s iron porch, but at the same time Solitude are quite a ride away from doom. It’s hard to explain, but with their own little resonance going for them, they unhurriedly toil and press their way through “Sidewinder”, “Bats in the Bellfry”, “Typhoid Mary”, and “The Elegy”. Sometimes they’ll get a wild hair up their collective ass and briskly gallop along, an energy found in small slices of all the songs save the scratchy-riffed “Bats in the Belfry”, but if you wanna bet, my money’s on a dour, moderate-to-slow paced wheelbarrow of a tempo. Some people wouldn’t have a problem calling this boring, but I like to think they’re not listening too hard.

The vocals of guitarist Kieth Saulsbury are at times like slow and deliberate Chuck Billy, sometimes like slow and deliberate Tony Benjamin of Forced Entry, and sometimes like almost-Cowboys From Hell-era Phil Anselmo. Oddly, solos aren’t uniform elements in these tracks, adding to the merit of the band's low-key and simple (but not simplistic) songwriting. You can also hear the bass, much to Rodney Cope’s pleasure I’m sure.

In essence, this demo strangely hangs in limbo. Categorical metal style is a misnomer. Other than the vocals, there’s really no concrete, head-slapping revelation as to who’s influencing this thing, as if they really didn’t care what’s going on around them. Or maybe I’m just deaf to it. So with its mostly speed-absent consciousness, Sickness is more like asbestos poisoning than Ebola, and for some it may take years to finally soak in this demo’s subtlety to discover its worth. That’s alright, there’s no rush…at least not anymore.