Cemetery Echo – Come Share My Shroud Review

Released on: 20th August 2021

The Artist still formerly known as Sting can be quoted as saying: Don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me. It is on record, permanently. And if Andrew Eldritch, ov non-Cthulhu horror, was here with the spirit of Sting he would first protest Good Goth and two ask for his voice back; The Sisters of Mercy called and they want their reflection back.

The debut EP Come Share My Shroud from Buffalo, New Yorks’ Cemetery Echo gets a physical release in the form of a Vinyl and a Digi-MCD. Originally released digitally through Bandcamp, this EP is not so much an approximation as a simulation of all tropes Goth ‘n’ Roll. Haunt ‘n’ Roll [sic] if you will.

Fans of the genre should be prepared with a yellow raincoat for how wet the guitars are. While the overall production emulates, very accurately, the sounds of the 80’s. In fact with a touch more modulation it would sound like it was recorded on a 4-track, thus spawning the nice detuned chorus effect. Alas the white noise comes solely from the attention to detail around the Goth label.

We have now affirmed that Cemetery Echo are authentic to their muse, but just what does their first outing inspire? Sadness. Trepidation. Contrition. Solace perhaps? All of the above seems apt. And also, maybe just a touch of excitement.

The rhythms are contentious in their engagement on Come Share My Shroud. Whereas the melodies and arpeggios are clustered in their layering. As high as it reaches, Come Share My Shroud is a scaffold upon the tower of despair. It fixes to the countenance but is too Goth to be of Goth.

Come Share My Shroud is a fair matrimony of goth and necrophilia that drowns in its own identity. And while it does not offer anything new it at least adheres to the look on the cover.

6/10

About David Oberlin 519 Articles
David Oberlin is a composer and visual artist who loves noise more than a tidy writing space. You can often find him in your dankest nightmares or on twitter @DieSkaarj while slugging the largest and blackest coffee his [REDACTED] loyalty card can provide.