Review: Thief Refines and Expands ‘Dungeon Pop’ with Bleed, Memory
Considering Dylan Neal’s previous stint as a member of the first and only hammered dulcimer black metal project Botanist, his subsequent project Thief should be comparably abnormal. What started as a way for Neal to repurpose sacred chants and church choir samples for his vein of post-industrial has progressed into a formidably atmospheric sound he has dubbed “Dungeon Pop.” Thief’s 2021 album The 16 Deaths of My Master felt like a fuller realization of the ethereal soundscapes of Thieves Hymns in D Minor (2016), and the evolving songwriting chops introduced on Map of Lost Keys (2019). While he might use some dark, dissonant vibes found in metal, it wasn’t until a 2021 split with Botanist that Neal emphasized guitars instead of synths and samples, akin to Broken by Nine Inch Nails. Thief’s new album Bleed, Memory reincorporates that raw aggression to fully realize Neal’s artist breadth.
To make another comparison to NIN, Bleed, Memory functions like Downward Spiral not only in its sonic diversity but also as Thief’s first concept album. Neal takes a personal exploration of memory, and the toll time, trauma, and conditions like dementia can take on it. With this backdrop, “Apparitions” opens the record like a dungeon synth interlude cued to a trip-hop beat, with ethereal drones and stark melodic lines supporting Neal’s expanded singing range. More importantly, it’s clear that this particular dose of “dungeon pop” has a keen understanding of the “pop” element, as the motifs on this track foreshadow an album with more alluring hooks and infectious melodies than ever before. By contrast, Bleed, Memory also contains a few surprising, but welcome, forays into extreme territory.
“Cinderland” and “Pneuma Enthusiastikon” comprise the two best arguments for covering Thief on Metalsucks. The former starts out cool enough with propulsive beat switches, glistening synth drones, and powerful vocal harmonies, but then it goes full Author & Punisher out of nowhere. Amid sluggish drum hits and walls of guitar distortion, Neal also brings in his signature choral samples for a truly overwhelming industrial doom barrage. Speaking of overwhelming, the latter goes straight for the jugular with Godflesh-style fury. Neal’s harsh vocals ride the line between frantic melodrama and animalistic ferocity, as the arrangement escalates to bonafide mosh parts while leaving room for moody goth-club breaks. Even in this intense delivery, Thief maintains an austere mysteriousness to keep the curveballs in line with Neal’s vision.
The neo-classical side of Thief lines through on the title track through harpsichord arpeggios, but Neal never allows things to get too campy. This is one of the more emotionally powerful moments on the record, lamenting the death of lived experience as memories linger as transient ghosts within a struggling mind. These more sparse arrangements also allow more glimpes into Neal’s approach, chopping up and warming elements to a point where the original intent fades in and out of reality… like a ghost. That’s probably the most apt description of, “Paramnesia” founded on a hypnotic mid-tempo drum break and tasteful synthetic compositions. Protracted classical samples or original keyboard patches blend into a unique, dynamic sonic tapestry.
This isn’t to say heaviness is limited to the highlights mentioned earlier, as “Prankquean” goes off the wall with abusive half-time beats and seismic industrial metal textures. While not quite aggressive enough to turn a cybergoth dance into a mosh pit, the concussive force of Thief remains hard to deny. The understated harsh vocal layerings are one great example of this, which carries over onto “Dead Coyote Dreams.” It adds some extra anger without overtaking the vibe — in the case of “Coyote Dreams,” the vibe is brassy synth leads (Mortiis, anyone?).
It’s the deep cuts that showcase the true awesomeness of Thief, as “Dulcinea” involves string sections and saxophones within ethereal rhythms, forlorn singing, and rumbling bass. Whereas previous cuts tended to only hint at the repurposing of classical music, this is really where Neal blows the lid off of his textural machinations. Even as the thumping basslines and unpredictable rhythms of “Behemouth” kick into high gear, regal choirs make their way into the mix. It’s truly astounding how easily the traditional melds into the abnormal, while Neal rises to the occasion with vocal performances as charismatic as they are nuanced.
For all the ways Bleed, Memory expands the Thieves Hymns template, it’s great to hear the “Hexproof” and “Pissing” give a one-two combo of classic Thief. If anything, this emphasizes how cool it would be to bring more of the choir samples into the meat of the record. This isn’t to say that Neal hasn’t proven himself as a songwriter, or that he should only do choir-centered beat music, but the unmistakable aura created by his original vein may never have a sound-alike in the modern landscape. Even so, the sultry, Deftones-ish closing track “To Whom It May Concern” does maintain a connection to Thief’s sonic foundation, as Gregorian chants get enveloped in all manner of electro-acoustic weirdness.
Thief has grown from answering the question “What if someone used traditional church music to make music goth kids could dance to?” to a great addition to the industrial rock and metal landscape. Bleed, Memory shows just how far Neal has come as a songwriter, but also how dedicated he is to his chosen aesthetic. What he has is truly special, and should be heard by far more people.
Thief’s Bleed, Memory is out this Friday, April 19 via Prophecy Productions.
