Golem Dance Cult
Call of the Wendigo
Golem Dance Cult’s new single Call of the Wendigo feels less like a song and more like an invocation. At just over three minutes, it wastes no time settling into its rhythm, a tight, uneasy groove built on thick guitar and a vocal line that walks the line between control and collapse.
The track doesn’t chase after hooks. It pulses instead, driven by repetition and a kind of restrained menace. There’s something in the way it moves, not aggressive, not theatrical, just steady and shadowed. The guitar work has a scratchy, unvarnished edge to it, while the vocals feel close but never overly exposed. It’s as if the song wants to tell you something, but won’t speak plainly.
The track doesn’t chase after hooks. It pulses instead, driven by repetition and a kind of restrained menace. There’s something in the way it moves, not aggressive, not theatrical, just steady and shadowed. The guitar work has a scratchy, unvarnished edge to it, while the vocals feel close but never overly exposed. It’s as if the song wants to tell you something, but won’t speak plainly.
The production, like much of Golem Dance Cult’s recent work, leans dry and physical. No big effects. No drama. Just enough space for the tension to build on its own. Beneath the surface, there’s a disquiet that never fully resolves, a sense that something is circling, just out of sight.
Recorded at Black Obsidian Woodshed and mastered by Joe Carra, Call of the Wendigo doesn’t try to be timely or nostalgic. It sits in its own corner, part post-punk, part ritual, part something harder to define. You could name a dozen bands it reminds you of, and none of them would quite fit.
It’s a strong introduction to Shamanic Faultlines, but even as a standalone, it holds its own, sharp, compact, and unsettling in the best way.
Recorded at Black Obsidian Woodshed and mastered by Joe Carra, Call of the Wendigo doesn’t try to be timely or nostalgic. It sits in its own corner, part post-punk, part ritual, part something harder to define. You could name a dozen bands it reminds you of, and none of them would quite fit.
It’s a strong introduction to Shamanic Faultlines, but even as a standalone, it holds its own, sharp, compact, and unsettling in the best way.