Congregation serves as Witch Fever’s condemnation of expectations

The first thing to note – and it is immediately obvious – is how appropriate the title Congregation is. With the energy of a wicked preacher compelling and instructing from the pulpit, Amy Walpole snarls. She chews every letter of every word of opener “Blessed Be Thy”, luxuriating in her own delivery, both seemingly self-aware of just how much command she’s wielding, and blissfully absorbed in the words. Religious imagery abounds, translating both literally (written drawing on Walpole’s experiences growing up in a Charismatic Church, a denomination focussed on the Holy Spirit, spirituality, and miracles) and more broadly, raining fire on the patriarchy and systems of oppression far wider than just religion.

Congregation, as a whole, serves as Witch Fever’s condemnation of expectations placed on us by those systems of oppression. It’s deeply angry, resonating through its lyrics and its singing, shattering instrumentals. They’re dark and heavy and delicious, horror-hardcore bass riffs providing hooks galore - “Market” provides one of the record’s pacier moments, and we are “brought to our knees” by the frenetic, low-toned melody. However, it fades immediately from the melee into follow-up “I Saw You Dancing”’s ominous grind, equally fierce but in a different way.

Witch Fever have definitely got their modus operandi nailed: noisy, shuddering riffs, a spine of piercing percussion, and Walpole’s utterly captivating mantras delivered over the top, all-encompassing and rousing. They do this excellently start to finish, to the point where it’s hard to find a standout (though the density of “Snare” and the slowburn, stripped-back howl of “Sour” are contenders). But Witch Fever know this, and play to it – aptly named “Slowburn”, the penultimate track, is suddenly unlike anything we’ve heard before. Moody, melodic guitars, and silky slick vocals are a whiplash about-turn as the album nears its end, kept discomforting by dissonant intervals, the grating swell of the chorus, and the soaring softness that characterises “Slowburn” against the rest of the record. It’s a gorgeous song, but it’s brought into its own by the unsettling drop-off at the end, which then sends us headlong into closer “12”.

“12” is undeniably the sound of Witch Fever on a cliff-edge, heavy, harsh, and devastating. Walpole’s vocals are fuzzed-up and filled with gravelly passion; the pace is turned up to a breathless maximum as she screams “I NEVER GOT AN APOLOGY / … / I WAS ONLY A KID”. It doesn’t make for comfortable listening, but it makes for paralysing, wicked, brilliant listening. Witch Fever end on their angriest, highest energy moment and it’s a triumphant, resounding closer to a knockout debut record, and the final echoes ring out like a promise.