NUCLEAR BLAST
Alternate histories and hard-hitting riffs from London’s stoner-doom folklorists
EACH GREEN LUNG LP has boasted beautiful graphic design, but their third album’s packaging drops this bewitching London quintet squarely in the realm of the hauntological – that strange phenomenon taking its cues from distorted childhood memories of unsettling, British postwar cultural aesthetics. The pastiche of a 1970s Pelican paperback, and the opening documentary sample, immediately suggest This Heathen Land is a metallic iteration of the movement generated by the Ghost Box label – all spooky Radiophonic synths and twee psychedelia with folk-horror undercurrents. The map of occult sites that comes with the vinyl is Scarfolk to a tee.
It’s a milieu that fits Green Lung snugly, even if there are more 90s influences and American reference points than you might expect – although infectious openernails their ‘folklore, riffs and legends of Britain’ USP perfectly. launches on a groove that recalls Cathedral in their pre-millennial ‘fun phase’, while the doomy (not a Steps cover,alas) even works in a Dimebag-damaged detuned breakdown riff. At first, this juxtaposition feels a bit jarring, but the disorientating time-scoop effect is a classic hauntological gambit, and, presumably for these musicians, Pantera and the stoner rock boom are as much an offbeat trigger of childhood nostalgia as and the soundtrack were to the previous generation.
