Being a music fan since my first memory, listening to the debut album of Rosetta West *God of the Dead* is like walking into a haunted cathedral and hearing all the corners buzzing with raw and uncontrolled energy. This Illinois blues-rock band, fronted by the gravel-throated soul-weary voice of Joseph Demagore, has created a 15 track journey that is as epic as it is mesmerizing. It is not an album, it is a ceremony, with sound that is gritty blues, punk-funk conflagration, psychedelic vortices and acoustic laments all interwoven into something that is both ancient and modern.
Whether it is the snarling kick of *Boneyard Blues* or the chanting of *Tao Teh King*, the song has its own weight. The vocals of Demagore are nimble, swinging between the rough and rebellious on the one hand and sorrowful and intimate on the other, whereas the bass of Orpheus Jones and the two drummers Mike Weaver and Nathan Q. Scratch (including such guest musicians as Louis Constant and Caden Cratch) pound like a heart. Numbers such as *Susanna Jones, Pt. 1* and *Pt. 2* lace a gothic tale and draw you into a tale of love and darkness, whereas *Midnight* and *Baby Come Home* provide soulful, quiet reprieves that resonate like a confession.
The fearless heart is what makes *God of the Dead* memorable. It is disorganized and whole, a dive into mysticism, loss, and existential grit that never loses the emotional center. It is gritty, almost organic, allowing all fuzzy riffs and scorching instrumentation to breathe. Being a person who adores music that is human, this album is a gift--it requires you to pay attention, to feel, to be lost in the weird, beautiful world it creates. Rosetta West do not merely play their music, they evoke it and the uncompromising nature of this music is a testament to their spirit. It is a trip I will always come back to, as a path that is trodden to a holy place.
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