Rosetta West’s new album ‘God of the Dead’ is a ballsy move. After the lean, mean ‘Gravity Sessions’, Rosetta West (aka the Illinois blues rock band) have decided to spread their wings a bit wide on this album. Joseph Demagore’s signature blend of blues rock, psychedelia, and mysticism surges through a 15-track collection that thrums with risk and a raw heart. Demagore himself is the song cycle’s clear North Star, shifting in and out of snarling guitars, piano lullabies, and spectral vocals, as though he were leading you through thick jungle. He is joined by bassist Orpheus Jones and a band of roving drummers, so that the music never sounds overly familiar or precise. More like a lit fuse about to go off, or the band in full-on animal mode.
The early tracks are a real kick in the teeth. “Boneyard Blues” is a thick and chunky riff rocker, all growling guitars and a beer-can pounding drum. “Underground” finds the band in even darker waters, and “I Don’t Care” as the title suggests, rips loose with reckless abandon and punk attitude. “Chain Smoke” throttles the tempo, allowing a hazy and fidgety blues sensibility to seep in, while “Town of Tomorrow” unfurls like an astral jam, its tendrils touching on something psychedelic. The two-part “Susanna Jones” gives way to narrative songcraft, the first with gentle, shape-shifting mystery, the second half with added bite. “Tao Teh King” is more mystical, and stakes its claim in poetic gravitas, while “My Life” has a more looser and personal quality. Tracks like “Baby Come Home” and “Summertime” show the band in a more open and vulnerable light, full of aching, comforting melody, while “Dead of Night” and “Thorns of Beauty” insinuate their way into the record with a broodier tone and texture.
The closing sequence is gripping, as the record tightens its knot one last time. “Inferno” delivers on the fiery name check with detuned ferocity and noisy abandon, while “Midnight’ (featuring guest bassist Louis Constant) feels like the sort of seedy bar jam that unwinds on electric grooves alone. It is almost impossible to close the album after such an extended salvo of music. You feel like you have been born again; bruised and bloodied and raw, yet fed by both the harsh and the intimate. ‘God of the Dead’ is no sprawl-it’s-wild gesture, with each song vibrating with its own color and weight and still able to sound fully conjured. For the Rosetta West veteran, it is another leap into the unknown. For newcomers, this is a very strong introduction to their world.
