Soot‘s second full-length album, Wearing a Wire, can be summed up with a single word — “sinister.” There are other words that may seem applicable – “brutal”, “foreboding” and “dark” come to mind. “Heavy”, “intense” and “aggressive” apply as well but none of those fit quite as well as “Sinister.”

Everything about Wearing a Wire is an elevated undertaking from their prior record, Talons of Empathy. The album sounds more crisp than the prior and is notably loud. I generally am not one to notice the loudness of a particular mastering job but this one is noteworthy. You don’t even need to crank the volume on this one. You should but you don’t need to.

Lyrically, the majority of tracks seem to be an exercise in character study, noteworthy charlatans that perhaps crossed the band’s path or simply observations of the kinds of aggressive people around us. There’s much violence noted throughout, often hinted at, occasionally directly cited. It’s presumptuous on my part but the hope is that these acts referenced throughout the record are a condemnation of them, not an endorsement. The characters present in “6 One Way”, “Fire Ants”, “Mr. Tennessee” and others seem to be treated with satirical disdain but you know what happens when you assume. That uncertainty certainly adds to the experience and intensity.

Occasionally, the record takes a respite from the brutal delivery but never veers away from the darkness. “Same Person” is pent-up condemnation on the inability to change largely delivered with floaty and sweet vibes, “Menthol” is a terrifying spoken word soliloquy presumably from a kidnapper and “Alma Jean” is a downright Southern ode to dark behaviors.

None of these, not one, ever veers away from feeling “sinister.” During the calmer songs or the occasional bass driven moments of swagger, there’s always that darkness looming. Perhaps that is the point of Soot; a reminder that no matter how hard you try, the darkness is nearby.

By my best measure, I’ve been listening to Volunteer Department (aka Oliver Hopkins) since 2019’s Big Gulp Sigh. In the years that have passed I’ve come to expect songs that are well crafted, stacked with memorable melodies and vibes that are biting or sinister – “Shitten” and “Make It Easy” come to mind. That’s not to say that every song fits in that tidy little box but it’s a recipe that is executed quite expertly across the body of work.

With Fountainhead something has changed; musically and lyrically. The memorable melodies and high level of craft are intact but it seems a conscious effort has been made to steer away the callous vibe of previous efforts. The album is softer, more vulnerable and possibly even a bit wounded by the heaviness of it all. Take “Old Friend,” a song to a companion that has passed away and the brain fog that comes with that loss – it’s downright heartbreaking. “Champion” is withdrawn and minimal, invoking heartsick and longing (ending with a sigh that feels especially heavy). However, “Act Happy” may be the best example of this crossing over of vibes – there’s a flourish of sinister but it’s turned inwards and has a weighted feeling of struggle. Is this the theme of the record; Putting on a happy face despite the hardships around you? Hopkins has always been a deft songwriter but Fountainhead is tackling harder subjects. The result feels more cohesive and fully realized than ever before; emotionally, lyrically and musically.

When depicting an album as “introspective” it may raise a flag to listeners that the album is self-indulgent or stripped back for the sake of appearing mature. Not so with Fountainhead. The record is a layered and nuanced affair filled with arrangements that reward multiple listens. The vocal layering alone is a fascinating listen – spin up “Memory Field” and follow along with the doubled up performance. Pay attention to the lyrics and you’ll find woven concepts between songs. For instance, “Big with Delight” references “being out on the wheel,” presumably a nod to the “Darkness Wheel” that appears later in the record. Here again, multiple listens across the entire album are rewarded as the full picture unveils itself. In a word, it’s immersive.

Volunteer Department struck me as fully formed when I first encountered their work half a decade ago but Fountainhead shows they were just getting started. Prior undertakings were collections of interesting songs but here we have a proper album – songs that are self-referential, songs that persist themes and songs with memorable hooks for days. Reading about the album presents it as a darker and heavier work. It is that but it’s also laden with an optimism and hope. My observations on the record may be way off the mark from the original intentions. My feelings on the weightiness of it all could be reflective on my own place in life. The very fact that the meaning isn’t obvious but up to the listener earns extra appreciation in my book. Hopkins has created one for the Best Of lists, don’t miss out on it.