Dwellers – Pagan Fruit


If we’re judging an album by its cover, the sophomore effort from this Utah-based trio, Dwellers, sure looks like a Baroness album. Hey, as long as we’re talking Red or Blue, and not Yellow & Green, that’s OK with me.

Pagan Fruit paints with a similar palette to the Georgian no-longer-sludgesters. An amplified, mellow, country-blues-rock with just a bit of bite—not the kinda stuff you’d expect from Kiss Your Sister-Wife Country. Probably more Blue Record than anything…

But that’s not to say they sound exactly like Baroness. There’s a slightly more psychedelic flair to some of these numbers, befitting of a band that belongs on Small Stone. Their brushes adeptly sketch portraits of (newer) Earth with shades of White Hills, Across Tundras and Dead Meadows, blending them with the country-rock of Huron (Hamiltonians should know who they are) and maybe even a dash of Clutch… like, in the bottom right-hand corner of the canvas.

Most importantly, they didn’t used to be a killer progressive-sludge outfit that went soft. (Not that I’m still upset about that or anything.)

Seahawks/Stamps/Flames/Zags/Jays/Raptors fan and lifelong metal head with a beer gut and a self-deprecating sense of humour. Reviewer/blogger (Yon Senior Doomsayer) for Hellbound.ca.

7.0 Rating