Doom metal is a genre that requires patience, and not just because the music is so incredibly slow: it’s been two decades since the last word from Warning, which is, coincidentally, the length of time between each note on 2006’s ‘Watching from a Distance.’ Alas, Walker and company have finally returned, though they haven’t exactly lightened up in the past twenty years. New release ‘Rituals of Shame’ is positively dripping with melancholy.

‘Rituals of Shame’ is heavy, but not in the same way that, say, Whitechapel is heavy— this isn’t an album that’ll inspire mosh pits or crowd killers, and hell, it isn’t even a listen that’ll get you to move much at all. The third Warning record is a rumbling, lumbering beast that crawls along at a downright glacial pace, giving its brooding note choices and despondent lyrical themes as much room as physically possible to breath. Its title track is thirteen minutes long, but you could hardly describe it as some progressive epic: the song’s movements are gradual and subtle, indulging in a sadness that seeps into you, deeper and deeper with every groaning roar from the guitars. Even given the slightly less gloomy visage that wraps around ‘Landing Lights,’ it’s fair to say that ‘Rituals of Shame’ is not a record that offers up much reprieve, as its name might suggest. Its dark riffs may give you room to breathe, but you’ll need it when trudging through such a deeply depressing experience.

Warning have honestly put together an ordeal here, outright refusing to break away from their signature style of bleak doom metal for even a second— these five tracks are not just lengthy but utterly formless, winding on and on without much movement or structure. It’s a test of patience, as we alluded to before, and a monotonous one at that: ‘Rituals of Shame’ is not meant to be easy to listen to, by and large, it is not. Granted, the album probably didn’t need to be quite so one-note as this to sell its descent into nihilism and anguish— the brief clean break in ‘Teacher’ proves that the band have more tricks up their sleeves than they’re willing to share— and it is, in every sense of the word, a slog, but in this instance, that’s not necessarily the scathing criticism it sounds like. Anyone criticising the repetitive guitar work of ‘Stations’ is missing the point entirely that this song, like the others, is built solely around Patrick Walker’s vocals, which are both entirely unique and richly impassioned in every single second.

The record’s title cuts right to the point: these five songs really do feel like ‘rituals,’ designed to wring out every ounce of shame, pity and pain from each glorious note choice and chord voicing. It’s a very singular experience, in that there’s nothing in the sound stage or in Andy Prestidge’s drumming to distract you from the weighty emotions at the album’s core. All there is is deep-seated ambience, placing the focus only Walker’s meticulous poetry. These tracks are dark, certainly, but not pointlessly so— they explore massive themes of isolation, purpose and love, and there’s not a single soul in the world who couldn’t find some meaning in these words.

“The darkness grew so strong

It even moved the stars

To try to find a place to hide

You learn to live with it”

Walker’s writing can be vague, but there’s no disputing how personal and profound his first output in twenty years can be. Buried in these labyrinthine arrangements, you can find a kaleidoscope of moods and emotions, even finding room for hope and adoration deep in there. Whether it’s the hopelessness of ‘Night Comes Down’ or the thoughtfulness of ‘Teacher,’ ‘Rituals of Shame’ will make you feel something.

“Then something quietly draws a line through all of my abstract pain

That so ordinary a thing as this should find me at once so alone

And it always does

But I can't see beyond you

And I can't count to the ways I love you”

Warning are back, and they’re making exactly the music you’d want them to— their third record has no fancy bells and whistles to dangle in your face, but feels entirely confident in its distinct blend of skulking doom and pure emotional torment. This is a metal album, but it’s not one you’ll be banging your head to: grab the tissues instead, for this is one of the most moving listens you’ll find this year.