BLOOD CEREMONY

The Old Ways Remain RISE ABOVE

More of the old magick from Alia O’Brien’s Toronto collective.

One song on Blood Ceremony’s fantastic new album is called Ipsissimus, a Latin word that roughly translates as ‘the most self’ or ‘self-est’. And while the Toronto weird-rockers have proudly drawn deep from the well of Jethro Tull, Black Sabbath et al over their 17 years together, they’ve never sounded more themselves than on The Old Ways Remain.

GRACE SLICK FRONTING THE DOORS DOING ARTHUR BROWN COVERS.

In the age of Uber Eats, ChatGPT and TikTok, it’s comforting to hear a band harking back to ancient goddesses, eerie places and 1970s sexploitation horror. This latter is Eugenie, inspired by cult 1970 Christopher Lee movie Eugenie: The Story Of A Journey Into Perversion. Here and elsewhere, Blood Ceremony can sound like Grace Slick fronting The Doors doing Arthur Brown covers (in a good way). Alia O’Brien is a compelling vocalist and flute player – her Anderson-esque lines add to the acid groove, her Hammond organ thrums along, and her understated backing vocals come through a Leslie speaker for extra wooziness. The guest sax solo from Joseph Shabason adds Dick Parry-like charm.

Lead songwriter/guitarist Sean Kennedy is a force from the Clapton-circa-Cream lines of driving opener The Hellfire Club, a brilliant, multilayered slice of retro psych rock. The band easily glide through the tempo changes here – that’s a trademark of theirs. They do it again on Powers Of Darkness, possibly their hookiest moment to date, its olde pop melody belying the song’s ominous name.

Guest violinist Laura Bates makes her mark on The Bonfires At Belloc Coombe, a particularly Sabbathy moment (‘Life is a game, the Devil awaits/Red wine for the bacchanal, only leave us here to while away our days’). Bassist Lucas Gadke and drummer Michael Carillo power the shifting rhythms well.

While Widdershins is almost throwaway in its catchiness,

Lolly Willows is irresistible. Seemingly inspired by Sylvia Townsend Warner’s 1926 satirical novel Lolly Willowes, or The Loving Huntsman, it’s like some bizarro offcut from Tull’s

Stand Up played at double the recommended rpm.

The goddess of magic and spellcasting gives her name to

Hecate, a pleasingly light and upbeat mish-mash of 60s pop tropes – part Elvis’ Suspicious Minds, part The 5th Dimension, but warped. Guest pedal steel player Mike Eckert adds another texture to the band’s multifarious sound, and the confident, strident Song Of The Morrow takes this strong record out on an involving note.

Fifth time out, Blood Ceremony really are their best selves. In their world the old ways do indeed remain, and thank God – or maybe the other guy – for that.