
Wytch Hazel’s V: Lamentations burns with holy fire and heavy riffs, but it’s not your standard metal record, it’s a sanctified space that contains their most powerful sermon yet.
For over a decade, Wytch Hazel have stood as proud standard-bearers of a rarely trodden path, a combination of classic heavy metal and pastoral, spiritual rock. Now, with their fifth album V: Lamentations, the Lancastrian quartet deliver their most refined and deepest album to date, one that’s equal parts riff and reverence, gallop and grace.
Since their 2011 debut single “Surrender,” Wytch Hazel have built their sound like a cathedral. Stone by stone, each album a new spire toward something eternal. V: Lamentations, produced once again by Ed Turner, brings their vision into widescreen view. It's as if Blue Öyster Cult and Thin Lizzy took a long walk in the English countryside and stumbled upon something extraordinary.
Take “Woven,” a melodic track whose rustic charm hides layers of pensive depth. “I wanted to write a heavy rock song about sensitivity,” says frontman Colin Hendra. “You don’t hear that much.” It builds gently before unleashing a heavenly guitar solo - first improvised, then painstakingly recreated - to tear the sky open. Then there’s “Healing Power,” the band’s new mission statement and likely future anthem. It’s folky, jubilant, and radiant with uplifting spirit. Hendra draws a line between the band’s name and the soothing balm of their music: “It encapsulates what we’re about - both lyrically and compositionally.”
The beauty of Lamentations lies in its variety. “Elements” plays like a sunshine-soaked homage to ‘70s FM radio rock, its Kansas-tinged progressivism and melodic ingenuity forged into a bright stained glass window of hooks. “I really enjoyed playing with the concept of weather,” Hendra says. “It felt like a challenge, but I’m extremely happy with how it came together.” And then there’s “The Citadel.” No doubt the album’s emotional core, it’s a slow-burning epic that flirts with Sabbath’s downcast grandeur while evoking something far older and more solemn. Its mandolin-led melodies and aching harmonies speak of isolation and self-doubt, a darker mirror to the affirmation of “Woven.” Hendra is unflinchingly honest: “We’re all multifaceted as humans, and that should be reflected in the art we make.” Even with seven tracks, V: Lamentations feels vast - an album of big skies, deep thoughts, and sacred fire. It’s a resurrection of the soul through vintage tones and heartfelt truth.