Pillar of Light – Caldera Review

By Thus Spoke

A Caldera is a hollow resulting from the collapse of a volcano’s magma chamber, normally after an eruption. This lasting effect of catastrophe, in the form of a deep depression, describes a mental state as much as it does a geological phenomenon. Pillar of Light—who dedicate their debut Caldera to late friend Steven Jon Muczynski (Hollow Earth/Tharsis They)—channel this state in an unflinching exploration of mortality and misery. Through a crushing brand of sludgy doom, Pillar of Light rain bitter feelings and agonized resignation in a shower of pathos as massive and confrontational as that haunting, incandescent door.

It can be paradoxically enjoyable to indulge in one’s gloominess, and Caldera takes this right to the brink of real despair. With Aaron Whitfield screaming pure sadness and spite over the deceptively simple interplay of Scott Christie, Alex Kennedy, and James Obenour’s resonant riffs and crushing chords, to the pulse of Eric Scobie’s thump and crash, Pillar of Light ensures that every note, beat, and breath hits you firmly and squarely in the chest. The presence of reverberant guitar in a dense production is weighty enough, trudging bleakly along to sluggardly sludge, But it grants a solidity also to the mournful refrains that spill down out of an opening in the grey cloud in delicate atmospheric drops, or a downpour of rich tremolo. In their violence, and patient creep towards devastating, destructive outpourings, Pillar of Light frequently reminds me of Amenra—almost too much at times, though such a comparison is only a good thing for Caldera’s effectiveness.

If Caldera is designed to rip your heart out, then it succeeds. Drums and concrete guitar batter and beat you down, you crawl along the tense path of blunt near-dissonance, your breath catches in moments of atmospheric anticipation, or a shivering build, and then is knocked clean from you as you collapse in a devastatingly beautiful catharsis. If you’re me, listening alone in my flat on a dark November evening, you’re crying. If you’re not me, you might not be crying, but you’d have to have a heart of stone not to be moved by the grief (“Leaving”), the despair (“Infernal Gaze”), and the surrender (“Certain End”) that bleeds out of these massive mournful melodies. More muted harmonies bleed with apathy (“Wolf to Man,” “”Spared,” “Unseeing”) before they too succumb to pulchritudinous despair. Venomous barks and somber spoken-word become a mantra of misery as they repeat over blunt and beautiful themes alike (“Wolf to Man,” “Infernal Gaze”). Quiet should be taken gratefully, even as delicately wrought plucks precipitate further despondence (“Leaving,” “Eden,” “Unseeing”).

Across its near-hour-long runtime, Caldera hardly lets up on its emotional abuse, changing only the manner in which it assaults. “Spared” and “Unseeing,” etched with screeching slides, are cold and depressive whether dwelling in ringing atmospheres or dissonant chugging. Unflinching and inexorable next to the more overtly pathetic “Leaving,” and “Infernal Gaze,” with “Unseeing”‘s battering, disharmonic conclusion setting the stage for “Certain End”‘s crippling finale. Only the aptly-titled “Eden” offers peace in its three instrumental minutes that bridge “Spared,” and “Infernal Gaze,” its hazy, perhaps overlong reprieve serving to make “Infernal Gaze” that much more devastating. If one wanted to trim anything, taking a smidge out of “Eden” could be a start, while “Unseeing” could also be pared down. In all honesty, however, Caldera doesn’t feel nearly as long as it is. Something else worthy of note is that “Certain End” hits with a particular type of nostalgic intimacy due its theme reminding me very strongly of Amenra’s “A Solitary Reign.” It took me a couple of listens to realize the reason it felt so familiar, but I wouldn’t class it as plagiarism, just strong inspiration that makes a good song better.

It seems that every year, something lands right at the cusp of list season that threatens to demolish the neatly-considered line-up. Pillar of Light are guilty of this terrible timing as they single-handedly snatch my personal Best Doom of the Year title. Stunning by itself, as a debut Caldera sets a heavy precedent and stamps a deep imprint on the scene. As enduring as its namesake, Caldera is gorgeous and heartbreaking, and it won’t let me go.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 6th, 2024

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