Just in time for the forest fires that lead us into the incredibly dark, overcast Northwest winters, Portland eulogist extraordinaire Dry Wedding unleash their ode to a slow disintegration with their debut LP The Long Erode. Clocking in at the quintessential summit set length of forty minutes, even the most adept nay-saying audiophile cannot find a major chord in this entire deluge of misery. One part desert rock, one part cowboy goth, they’ve made Nick Cave look like Mr. Rogers with the sheer amount of hopelessness embedded in these tunes. The full-throated baritone vocals weep and croon over some of the sickest jangles this side of Death Valley.
The dueling guitars do a spaghetti tango, each one-upping the other to see how utterly fucking depressing they can get. There’s some serious mastery of style in their technique that serves to illustrate an overbearingly squalid atmosphere like spacing out on a Hieronymus Bosch painting for so long you forget you’re on this side of the grass, not being consumed by worms. If you read this website, this description likely seems pleasurable to listen to the album here and grab the vinyl out now on Ressurection Records.
