Cancer House's debut album, The Moth, is a captivating journey through the depths of depression and resignation, offering a unique blend of 90s slowcore and post-rock. The album's allure lies in its ability to make the lugubrious feel comforting, almost addictive. The opening track, 'Waterscene', sets the tone with its dreary, cobweb-like guitar melodies and sparse string arrangements, creating an atmosphere of bedrest and despair. The vocals, though cryptic and alien, convey a bitter, broken wish to 'kill 'em, kill 'em', leaving a lasting impression of finality and resignation.
One of the album's standout tracks, 'Flowers Over There', showcases the band's strategy of blending reversed tape loops with lively musical elements. The reversed tape loop acts as a ghostly spirit, animating the track with a sense of otherworldliness. The vocals, sung in a slow, deliberate manner, create a sense of every word's shape, but then the track erupts into a fit of pained screaming, leaving the listener with a sense of ever-compounding misery. This contrast between the slow, deliberate vocals and the sudden, intense screaming is a powerful tool for evoking emotion.
The album's sense of space and weight is particularly evident in 'Camera Obscura'. The track allows the listener to feel the throb of the kick drum and the brushes that graze the snare, creating a sense of texture and depth. The ambiguity of the lyrics, which are hard to make out, adds to the track's emotional impact, making it easier to accept the bleak as eminently pretty. The moment halfway through the track when the guitar chords are plucked in conjunction with the listless topline, and then siren-like vocals whirl around in quiet rapture, is an invitation to embrace dejection.
The Moth's hi-def detailing ensures immediate and constant immersion, creating an atmosphere that is both engrossing and potentially dangerous. The seduction of such atmospheres raises questions about the line between harmless engagement and dangerous festering. The album's last two songs, 'Bloodchimes' and the wheezing, woozy title track, form an extended coda reminiscent of Early Day Miners' best album closer. These passages, while nostalgic, are discomfiting, especially when compared to the abrupt cut to silence in the opener 'Camera Obscura'.
In sticking through the 30 minutes of The Moth, numbness begins to feel aspirational. The album suggests that rotting in bed might be something to pencil in, offering a strange, addictive solace. Cancer House's debut is a powerful exploration of depression and resignation, making the lugubrious feel comforting and inviting. It is a testament to the band's skill in blending musical elements to create a unique and captivating listening experience.
