Castle Rat : The Bestiary
The deeper you dive into heavy metal’s entrails, the harder it is to keep its broad cultural image in mind. A look through Treble’s Shadow of the Horns column reveals black metal that grapples with post-Roman empire paganism and metaphysical meditations on what constitutes post-metal, not to mention the horde of bands that challenge metal’s subgenre fetishization and the ever-adored disgusting death metal. Of course, a hesher will hold dear that metal cannot be distilled to one entity. They see every tree in the forest. Yet, two decades after nu metal died out, groove metal brought Southern flair and baggy cargos to festival stages, and Meshuggah knock-offs made playing well boring, there are still people who first think of AC/DC when they hear “metal.”
As such, metal’s late-’70s/early-’80s image persists despite the vast majority of bands moving away from it. You know it when you see it: leather, audacious vocals, guitars front-and-center, leather, fantastical theming, a lot of camp, little respect from the critical brass, and leather. It’s the same as what the 1980 film Heavy Metal presented and, seemingly, it was decided that it will stick for another 45 years. Those that emulate this vision cannot untie themselves from the inherent nostalgia and their success lay in how well they navigate it.
New York’s Castle Rat is the closest band around to Heavy Metal. Their aesthetic, half ’80s fantasy and half VHS hiss, recalls the film’s fantastical and antiquated animation, while musically, they brand themselves as “fantasy doom” without getting deep into the weeds of heavy metal. There’s certainly fantasy themes and doom metal riffs and pacing, but both elements are washed out. Castle Rat presents a sunbleached take on doom in which the ridges and bright colors have been muted by time. The epic doom of Candlemass, Electric Wizard’s crushing weight, and the far-flung fantastical resonance of Cirith Ungol are all absent. Perhaps the best comparison, and most apt given their recent TikTok fame, is Pentagram, never the heaviest nor the mightiest doom band, but another act that understood heavy metal’s mix of self-awareness and fuzz.
Although Castle Rat try to evoke heavy metal in a nonchalant, unflustered manner on their sophomore album The Bestiary, released only a year after their debut, the era they pull from was one of tryhards; of blasting lines of blow to finish four albums in two years time, of shredding on every song because the Lord put them on earth for one purpose and if they weren’t busy shredding then they could get busy dying, of decadent stage shows and ear-piercing wails and stinky, sweaty energy. It was the opposite of sprezzatura, which is the axiom Castle Rat operates on. They try to make what was inherently not cool into something cool.
Their resuscitation is not without merit because some of The Bestiary is chic and effortless. Particularly, the first half, in which vocalist The Rat Queen (Riley Pinkerton) and lead guitarist The Count orchestrate some of the year’s catchiest metal melodies. But one can only post up at the side of the bar looking cool for so long until they have to go out on a limb and talk to somebody. Castle Rat rarely take the plunge to open themselves up and show what lay beyond their cool affront, or even brandish their technical skills. Instead, they opt for slickness and simplicity, and it’s charming for a while, but it leaves The Bestiary feeling undercooked. There is a better band playing on this record than what the recorded material presents.
This is more present when contrasting The Bestiary’s peaks with its valleys. Take the standout track “Wizard: Crystal Heart,” which sits like a cold onyx stone in the hand; heavy, smooth, and alluring. Or the lightning bolt that strikes when “Siren: The Pull of Promise” ramps up to double-time in its final stretch. Compared to these moments, the remainder of The Bestiary feels too caged, as if Castle Rat are working with ankle weights on, content to let Pinkerton’s vocals stand in for engaging songwriting. By the time “Wolf II: Celestial Beast” arrives, the record’s haze has grown stale, as if it wasn’t allowed to expand. The same could be said for “Sun Song.” It’s meant to be The Bestiary’s epic conclusion, but the riffs are laborious and the plodding structure leaves it feeling weightless.
And what’s frustrating is that The Bestiary has the components of a better album in it. It ends on “Phoenix II,” an enchanting melody that alludes to a larger framework and plays well into the fantasy theming, but it serves the same job as a talented chef working at a Subway. Castle Rat have the vision and the ability, but they handicap themselves by sticking to their framework. Their muted energy is pleasant and affable, but rarely does it penetrate as much as when they embody the larger-than-life metallurgy from which their music descends.
Label: King Volume
Year: 2025
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