While Chelsea Wolfe's forays into electronic music and metal have frequently been thrilling, the aching beauty of her acoustic-based music remains special. After reaching a peak of heaviness with 2017's Hiss Spun, she swings the pendulum back with Birth of Violence, an album that evokes, and embellishes on, the doomy folk of her earliest albums. As she proved on the excellent Unknown Rooms, the gentler side of Wolfe's music isn't any less powerful. With its drifting, smoky acoustic guitars and whispers, "American Darkness" ...
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While Chelsea Wolfe's forays into electronic music and metal have frequently been thrilling, the aching beauty of her acoustic-based music remains special. After reaching a peak of heaviness with 2017's Hiss Spun, she swings the pendulum back with Birth of Violence, an album that evokes, and embellishes on, the doomy folk of her earliest albums. As she proved on the excellent Unknown Rooms, the gentler side of Wolfe's music isn't any less powerful. With its drifting, smoky acoustic guitars and whispers, "American Darkness" evokes the shell-shocked aftermath of a battlefield (as well as Wolfe's own weariness after lengthy tours in support of her previous album). Here and throughout Birth of Violence, Wolfe's misty greys are just as haunted and intense as the pitch blacks of Hiss Spun. On the title track, she brings her listeners in close with a beguiling melody that's all the better to make their hair stand on end when she ratchets up the tension and her voice climbs into its shivery upper register. Turning the volume down allows Wolfe's stunning vocals to be the focus of Birth of Violence in a way that they haven't been in some time. She's never sounded more commanding than on "The Mother Road"'s journey of challenge and change, while her gorgeous lilt on the chorus of "Be All Things" heightens the song's mournful grace. The album's relative starkness also showcases Wolfe's gripping storytelling and turns of phrase, whether it's the empathy that resonates from "When Anger Turns to Honey" or the witchy surrealism ("clock hands begin to melt away") she uses to summon times and people long gone on "Preface to a Dream Play." Birth of Violence is also another testament to her inspired collaboration with Ben Chisholm. Together, they use the album's acoustic palette in evocative and surprising ways. It's fittingly twisted that one of Wolfe's quietest albums features a love song to rock music, yet on "Deranged for Rock & Roll," her swooping vocals, combined with wisps of feedback and far-off drums, conjure echoes of rock that are both ghostly and distinct. Similarly, the way "Erde" trades strings for blackened guitars hints at just how punishing this song could have been had it appeared on Hiss Spun. While Birth of Violence creates a more sustained mood than that album or Abyss, unusual touches pop up on nearly every track, ranging from "Dirt Universe"'s skittering drums and synths to the alternating bass line on "Little Grave," which only adds to the feeling that it's a long-lost folk classic that Wolfe unearthed. Another triumph, Birth of Violence is a potent -- if hushed -- reminder that Wolfe's intensity never wavers, no matter how she expresses it. ~ Heather Phares, Rovi
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