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Cainhurst – A Ceremony

Label: Self-released / Release date: 4th August 2023
  • 84%
    Cainhurst - A Ceremony - 84%

Ceremonies, we’ve all sojourned the experience. Decrees in harmony and valedictions to the lost. All of us have been bound together by an infinite unity, where all of our stationed emotions inevitably become fugitive to the fleeting moment at hand. Cainhurst, a trans-fronted screamo tetrad from the south west of England, could have commemorated the birth of A Ceremony, their debut EP, accordingly; but rather they have superimposed their existence like scars on a fragile human body. Tongues have been wagging about Cainhurst since July of last year, and three months preceding their come-together, they performed live for the first time ever. Now in the early half of this August, the band have embarked on their first ever European tour. The facts are patently distinct, an anticipation ever so tantalising. The building blocks have continued to not stop growing, and here arisen under the dark shine of everything wrong with the world is Cainhurst’s church. Within it’s walls is a story reminisced by an unwanted constant, and though the screamo four-piece may have to brutally accept that their spoken themes of injustice may never be sentenced and served, at the very least, their offering sinks deep, fulminating with passionate fury.

A Ceremony is the artist’s imagination-to-canvas portrait of the insecure and bemused introvert’s quiet suffering. In practice of what Ewan Benwell (vocals), Joe Harrington (guitar), Sonny Farman (bass) and Jason Veitch (drums) preach as the black swans of society, the four songs attached to this EP deliver an ugly truth. Screamo tends the puppet strings of a self-destructive state of mind found in music, and having this coat of arms for these four individuals to serve tastes of poetic justice just a little too well. After the fifteen-second noise wall of “What You Let Get Too Close,” Harrington’s chord strikes hit in momentary solitude – a progressively recurring yet encouraging structure that is heard in the break of “Dullboy” and the dueted exile cries in “The Bounds of Reason” – only to be met with a full-force disgust towards hierarchical oppressors. Epic mixes of Converge-like energy and Frail Body’s emotional depth come quick and sure in the imprint that this band leaves on you. The aforementioned “Dullboy” and “The Bounds of Reason” – tracks about internal struggle and attempted resolve in an ever-changing world, respectively – are astute, outstanding compositions with a deteriorating touch achieved by all-encompassing members. Repetition comes scarce, yet every pattern is its own high-speed chase worthy of admiration, particularly by Benwell’s performance that unwillingly pulls you down to their hell. “A Machine For Pigs” does lack a bolder countenance to the individuality strived in this debut however, but rather than this rather take away from Cainhurst’s ferocity, it gives way to exploring future opportunities in songs of straight violence.

What Cainhurst has given to us in A Ceremony are the broken wings of a dove. What we can make beautiful of such futility challenges us to question the chaos and disorder in our own lives. Every quarter of this offering is particular to us in one way of its own, and if Cainhurst continues to prove themself worthy of being the redeemers of unjust cause, then the bandwagon coordinates should start to be set to Bristol, England. Something special is brewing, and it would be of no incredulity to me that people in 5-10 years time will come to brag about being one of the first to have discovered A Ceremony.

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