Illinois blues-psych band Rosetta West originated in the 1990s and has spent the last three(!) decades building up a respectable fanbase around the world. With a bevy of independent releases under their belt, they’ve returned with Labyrinth, a fourteen(!) song magnum opus that blends elements of rock, blues, and psychedelia into the type of band you’d find playing in a sweaty dive bar at 2am. Certainly informed by the decade in which they formed, Rosetta West has unmistakably channeled their thirty years of experience into Labyrinth, sludging and slamming through these songs with a simmering fury and a touch of nirvana (pun partially intended).
Album opener, “Red Rose Mary Bones,” is a perfect introduction to the album – its muddy bass backbone twisting and turning underneath lava-lamp guitar lines. Lyrics like “resurrecting my blood, images twisting through my mind, and in a blurry vision I can see every hidden side” embody the music perfectly with vague, amorphous, and intangible imagery. This same kind of bluesy grime can be found on songs like “Roman Mountains” and “Blue Fog” – their acoustic-led cores bringing to mind Jar of Flies era Alice in Chains with menacing strumming, minor chord keys, and snarling vocals. They intersperse these high-energy cuts throughout the album, like the punked-out “Ginny’s Gone” with its speaker-melting guitar solo. Even album closer, “Superior” buzzes with thick rock and roll energy, its ultra-distorted guitars and chuggy rhythms amping you up with one last jolt of energy.
Although we hesitate to use the word “tribal” as a descriptor, it is an apt description of some of Rosetta West’s work. Song two, “The Temple,” opens with a bongo-led rhythm and a sitar-like acoustic guitar presence. With its calm and collected demeanor, “Temple” has one of the best vocal performances on the album – it’s both mixed and emoted to perfection. The title-track here also evokes these so-called tribal elements, a mesmerizing, hymn-like affair full of auxiliary percussion and a hypnotic vocal melody.
Elsewhere, the band dives into swampy blues grittiness, reminiscent of The White Stripes (if they were from Baton Rouge instead of Detroit). The creepily beautiful intro of “Nightmare Blues” gives way to a dirty, gravely-voiced dirge – “there’s something creepin’ round here tonight, I got the nightmare blues” sets a perfect tone for that haunted bayou feel. The band dives into a traditional, twelve bar blues structure in the similarly named “Elmore’s Blues.” With lyrics about missing one’s baby and writing to a good friend, it brings to mind a bygone era where we weren’t all connected by a device in our pockets. While these are the most overt examples on the album, stabs of the blues can be found scattered throughout Labyrinth, including the rock-forward “Shine;” the rambling, harmonica-laced “Fly Away;” and the backwoods stomp of “Venous Blue.”
My favorite part of the album is the transfixing, indie-rock-inspired “Sanctuary.” With a droning flair that could be a Black Angels song in a different life, “Sanctuary’s” subtle groove grabs a hold of your gut and refuses to let go. While we loved the dirty slide guitar work and inventive acoustic rhythms layered throughout Labyrinth, the super tight, almost meditative riffing of “Sanctuary” is one of the best guitar moments on the album. We found ourselves automatically bobbing our head along to the beat here, so “Sanctuary” gets our nod (pun definitely intended) for album favorite.
Labyrinth is out now – check it out below via Bandcamp.