We’re a little bit in love with Rosy Finch! Aesthetically speaking, their retro-horror tones, Paganistic lyrics and the ominous cover of their album, Witchboro, could have been made entirely with us in mind. This trio hailing from Alicante in Spain advertise “heavy, noisy riffs” with a “dollop of Stoner Rock” on their debut outing for Deathbound Records. While there is indeed some channelling of 70’s rock titans (not least Black Sabbath) going on here, there is a hell of a lot more besides. By track three we have already involuntarily shot the horns at least once and, should they play in the UK, we fully intend turning the mosh pit into an altar of sacrifice to these two girls and a guy.
Witchboro, is divided into two distinct phases. The first, Dark Hills, takes classic song writing and adorns it with deer skulls and animal blood. While it’s menacing and frequently angry, it is loaded with concise riffs and possessed of a punky catchiness. By track six, we traverse onto the second phase, Sea of Trees. This, the band’s more musically adventurous side, spreads its black wings amid woozy psychedelic chord progressions, percussion workouts and haunting vocals. The songs relay ambition and scope as Elena Garcia’s dextrous bass, chafes and clatters up and down the driving, fizzing guitars which shimmer and bend sexily in and out of phase.
Throughout, Rosy Finch deploy a fusion of melody and controlled noise, as on the soaring chorus of “Hyde Formula”, referencing mid-90’s Post Hardcore (Helmet et al.). Elsewhere, on the pummelling “Sexkinesia” they sound like a female-fronted Songs for the Deaf era Queens of the Stone Age and in places there are parallels with Sonic Youth, of course. With Mireia Porto – their occasionally furious front woman who slides easily through sweet croon and bluesy howl on to pedal-down oestrogen-powered scream – this comparison is inevitable. But make no mistake, Rosy Finch are their own band. The beautiful, mysterious mix of English and Spanish lyrics – provocative but never crude – work brilliantly and when Porto sings in her own language she sounds like she is describing some seductive black-magic rite.
Witchboro is a slick package and for a band only two years old, you can tell it was a labour of love. The punchy but retro-sounding production handled by Daniel Montiel, breathes organically and there is an intelligence to the way the thing has been assembled. The bottom end chunters, growls and on “Polvo Zombi”, roars as though possessed by Geezer Butler himself. The drums are nice and dry, thudding against your chest just the way they used to before Heavy Metal fell in love with clicky-sounding bass drums. It’s heavy as a bag of anvils, but more than anything else, it just rocks. Hard.
Rosy Finch deserve to break the confines of the little leagues. Fact is, they could kick the ass of pretty much any female-fronted Hard Rock or Metal outfit doing the rounds right now and if there is any justice in the world they will reach a wider audience. This is a band who’s star we want to watch ascend and we can’t wait to hear what they do next. No, scratch that we demand their next album be accompanied by Mireia Porto fucking standing on top of our desk, wringing that sparkly Guild double cutaway and screaming in our faces! So, we suggest you join Rosy Finch right now or be prepared to wake up to find yourself staked-out naked in some lonely forest clearing, smeared with deer intestines and… well, who knows?
We’ll conclude this review with the words of the lady herself: “Let me hear you screaming, let me be your wings.” Amen to that! 9/10