Caligula’s Horse: Charcoal Grace
This album is difficult.
It’s one of those pieces of art that after the first listen, I found myself confused. Do I like this? I like parts of it for sure, but I also dislike parts of it? Does it work as a whole?
These thoughts don’t necessarily spell bad news for an album, because such an initial confusion could go in three directions. I had similar thoughts on my first viewing of The Last Jedi, which upon further inspection was terrible. I also had misgivings on my first listen of Haken’s Affinity or Pain of Salvation’s Road Salt One, two albums I maintain are supremely mediocre after more listens. However, an initial distrust also plagued my first spins of Haken’s The Mountain, and similarly Pain of Salvation’s In the Passing Light of Day, two albums I could heap with endless praise. So, where does Charcoal Grace find itself. Do I like this?
Whilst not reaching the heights of the two albums mentioned, Charcoal Grace is certainly in the third category. I intentionally compare them to those other bands, as all three have written music I adore, and some I could do without. I was cautiously optimistic, as I liked the lead single, but 2020’s Rise Radiant was a disappointment for me; a major step back from the band. Furthermore, the band seems to like it a lot more and continues to play songs from that album live that I just can’t get into. Charcoal Grace is not Rise Radiant, but its not In Contact either. It’s something new for these Aussies, that is still distinctively C-Horse.
The album begins with The World Breathes With Me, entering with some light piano and guitar-work, before the drums come in for a few measures, and then Sam Vallen’s guitar is left all alone, and everything come crashing back in again. This song initially did not grab me. On the first listen I thought it was fine, but nothing special. Multiple listens have really embedded it as a stellar opener. The lead breaks, pounding rhythmic bits, and the soft “I wanted…” all lead up to that release at “I breathe! And the world breathes with me!” Golem was the lead single, and it finds its place perfectly following the first track. The riff is one of the best the band has written, and the drumming and soloes equally as good. It doesn’t linger either, finishing it’s ideas in a tight five minutes. It’s the perfect balance to the longer tracks on the record.
And then we come to the jewel: the Charcoal Grace suite. C-Horse have never attempted something this grand, but it was the track I was most excited for going into the record. This one takes a lot to process, and was the most bewildering part of the record on my first listen. I knew this would make or break the album. It had to be good, or else the whole album may as well be binned. Luckily for me, it’s one of the best things the band has ever written. The first two movements, Prey, and A World Without mirror each other to near perfection. The almost whispered I am the weight, the worry. I am the hurt, the hurry without the hate to carry. I could have been somebody. almost signals what’s to come and beckons you to remember it for later. Both of them have that big fat chorus with slightly altered lyrics to fit each section and Prey has it’s own chorus at the end to distinguish it thematically before ripping into a flashy lead solo and some layered vocals.
A World Without sees the return of something I loved from the Bloom era, Jim Grey’s Jeff Buckley-esque vocals. He knows exactly how those highs hit with the emotional lyrics and then the vocalisations three and a half minutes through: just perfection. Then they bring back that chorus as “down you fell, so give me hell” takes on a new meaning. Vallen steps in with another solo, only to be left completely alone. Alone.
Then somber tone segues into Vigil. Just an acoustic guitar, soft piano, and Jim Grey’s breathy. The perfect bridge section, and the lyrics speak for themselves. It sets the whole emotional tone of the record, and burns everything to silence, in her Charcoal Grace…
Give Me Hell absolutely shatters the calmness that Vigil built. It slaps you in the face as the heaviest part of the record and it doesn’t hold back. What Prey set up, Give Me Hell knocks down with a ferocious intensity that builds on a slow chug and a familiar melody. Then it goes all djent as Grey nearly sobs over the riffs before “hell is you!” As everything is resounding, they bring back what you’re waiting for, with an unforgiving rhythm as Grey screams: I am the weight, the worry. I am the hurt, the hurry without the hate to carry. I could have been somebody! After this tour-de-force we get an altered “give me hell” chorus that fades into a final solo. The band has really outdone themselves on this one, and I can’t get enough of this over 20-minute masterpiece.
Following the suite, the album comes down to earth, and, in my opinion, to its detriment. Sails is forgetable and should have been left on the chopping block. Stormchaser has grown on me a bit. It’s not a bad track, but given that it stands besides giants it seems to fall short. I definitely appreciated it more after experiencing it live. Indeed, I appreciate much of this record more after catching their Atlanta show last week. I had seen them once before, but the four cuts they played from the new record were all done to perfection, and you can see that they were written to be performed. They were written to be shared with a crowd, after the band struggled to do so following 2020. That’s the sorrow that seeps in this album, especially that of Vallen following Rise Radiant, and what can he say? Nothing…
Which brings us to Mute. Whatever my thoughts on the rest of the record, I knew after my first listen was my instant favourite. It opens on an echoey Jim Grey all alone, with some of the best lyrics of the record, before dropping into a heavy intro. The first couple minutes are intentionally reminiscent of the albums opener, both musically and lyrically, without being a carbon copy. And again, it’s got the Buckley vox and just some pounding djent. “The who can save me now/who can love me now?” section is one of the finest things the band has ever composed. It absolutely blows me away every time. The band then takes you on another journey for a few minutes, with flutes and piano and guitars, showcasing everyone’s technical prowess before bookending the song and the album. It’s the perfect closer, and perhaps my favourite song the band has ever recorded. I know it’s barely February, but other bands are going to have to step it up. This is album of the year material right here.
Some people have criticised the production on the record, especially saying the vocals are too low in the mix and hard to understand. I didn’t find problems, and I’ve listened on six different audio devices. Overall, this is their most mature record to date. Something I have always loved about Caligula’s Horse is their commitment to writing emotionally driven prog that hits hard, pulls no punches, and doesn’t pretend to be anything else. That’s what this record is. There is no quirkiness, there is no weird, no beep-boop. Just the music, and the lyrics, begging you to take them seriously. It’s raw, and broken, just like the men who penned it. It has its flaws, for sure, but its almost asking you to look at it because of its flaws. The Charcoal Grace suite and Mute tell it all. It wants you to love it, warts and all. It is tinged with sorrow, a deeper sorrow than the band has explored before. It’s angry, and resentful. If you’re familiar with that sort of sorrow and are able to access it, then this album will make sense. If you’re not, then this one might bewilder you. But, like the band themselves if you ever get to meet or see them, it’s got joy, and hope, despite the anger and sorrow. It’s there under the surface, if one has ears to hear it.
Finishing this record, there’s a need to just sit. It takes a lot out of you, so have a break and just sit. Just sit and listen. Listen to the silence…to silence, in her charcoal grace. To silence. In her charcoal, her charcoal grace…
9/10 • Top Tracks: Mute • Charcoal Grace I-IV • Golem