Constructed primarily of various fragments and outtakes from previous Cave Dweller recordings, there’s a presumption that Showing Teeth should sound the same as its predecessors, all haunting neo-folk and gloomy Americana, but following a relocation to Massachusetts, Adam R. Bryant has instead tapped into the inherent violence and folklore of New England to create an album that goes far beyond expectations. Yes, there’s still some of that old sound, tense steel-strung acoustica and extended spoken word passages, but it’s nestled among a forest of hulking post-metal riffs, drone metal and doom, a landscape bereft of light where old gods still wander and accept their offerings.
‘The Savage Face Of Tekoa’ begins innocuously enough as Sect 37’s Stuart Harris delivers an animated poetry reading over sparse acoustic guitarwork and woozy flutters of piano but as crackling static and the barest hint of fuzz begin to creep in within minutes, the signs that ‘Showing Teeth’ is going to break tradition are already evident. A hulking doom riff unfurls to the sounds of Bryant’s bestial roars, gradually taking shape into a solid slice of 90’s Neurosis worship, right down to the metallic rattle of bass and deep, primal vocalisations. ‘Appalachian Alchemy’ almost plays out in reverse, launching straight into a sinister prowl of a riff, less the sound of the earth rumbling as it is the portent of a waking forest spirit. When it does simmer down, the toll of bells and a menacing cello drone accompanying a hypnotic fingerpicked melody, you can practically see a burning wicker man in the mind’s eye, the heat and stench of cooked flesh rendered in churning Appalachian doom.
The drone aspect is pushed to its limit with ‘Sunrise Offering (The valley As An Altar)’, a slab of amplifier worship that marks not only the darkest section of the record but also its most abstract (lyrics are simply listed as “random obscenities and invocations”). Bryant’s voice is near-incomprehensible, his stream of mutterings and ravings perhaps apt in relation to the pitch-black guitar tone that churns and rumbles behind him. ‘Amanita Bisporigera’ stays in doom territory but is more hopeful in tone, a few well-placed guitar solos and colourful splashes of organ making it one of the more accessible cuts here. That said, it still makes a kind of narrative sense in the context of the record, offering up another facet of New England’s emotional climate, a fire and sense of deep spirituality that continues to run through the soil and leaves.
Closing with the tribal dark ambience of ‘Panacea’, Showing Teeth ends not on a high note but on one that seeks to bury itself deep in the soul. A curious mishmash of rustic instrumentation, spoken work, distorted emanations, chants and vocal drones, it’s less a song than it is a sonic remnant of some ancient ritual, but for what purpose only Bryant knows. Perhaps it’s an odd sign-off but for those who have followed Bryant’s work over the years, it’s an electrifying offering, summing up years of acoustic, textural and spiritual exploration in a relatively succinct ten minutes. Showing Teeth is the sound of Cave Dweller evolving into something new, strange and misshapen and beautiful and utterly majestic in its horror.
