Gøren is a one person project by Derek Fisher that very much sounds the consequence of dredging all the bayous in Louisiana to pull out every Southern Comfort / Deliverance-esque incident ever to have taken place, despite Derek being from Flint, Michigan, way up in the North of the States.

The southern drool drips off every note of ‘Summon’ as it wades mammoth-like through the bayou, its weight ensuring each step sinks right in, so needs a heavy pull to get out again; a movement of monumental proportions. While on its back sits a lone rider of the Apocalypse passing judgement on those and the sins dredged up with far greater fear and consequence than anything dished out by the more famous four riding horseback.

It sets the tone for an album stacked with crushing doom and set alight by juicy stoner solos; ‘The One True God’ starting with hints of Om before becoming an assault of red hot meteors smouldering with distortion as they hit the earth with deep driving impact while the rider above casts derision on those trying to cheat the onslaught of time without a hint of remorse for the cruelty it might inflict on those plagued with ego and vanity.

‘Walls Could Speak’ delves into the deepest depths of the mire, reaches down to discover a long-forgotten cemetery, taps on the crypts; opens them precisely for the consequence of releasing the droves of flies that long ago fed on the bodies there but for the centuries of darkness since have had to feed on each other to survive; assassins soon to be assassinated until this day of release, when they can return in blind swarms to what they’ve hunkered after all that time: decomposing human flesh.

And that is to consider the music alone, not the lyrics that frequently take a poetic form leaving as much room for interpretation as understanding the message being conveyed.

While at numerous points the album puts me in mind of Earth and Om, the contemplative melody found on ‘Black Mist’ particularly does. Though that soon changes when the 3:49 mark introduces a whole new layer that take things into Weedeater territory before then suddenly—by the dark magic conjured by the sound—it’s like it never changed at all. Lyrically intriguing in that it spoke volumes to me about sleep paralysis.

‘Den of Snakes’—an abstract anti religious/capitalist prose—brings home the ability for each track on Summon to sound as crushing as it can get, only for the next to be more so; here it all takes place on some god forsaken porch in the swamp, a long lost soul with a long supply of beer and weed saying mantra to themselves there.

‘Musing of the Melancholy’ is the blackened jewel in Summon’s doom crown, tolling its way open with the charm of a funeral procession sombre to the point of crumbling to dust under the weight of its own grief; here is what awaits in the forest on the side of the album cover not on fire. A deeper pain within the shadows in contrast to that burning on the other side where the trail of destruction is superficially plain to see; the darker appearing free of burning torment, while in reality what takes place unseen there leaves no doubt about the devil one knows.

Summon is an accomplished album in all respects—from song composition to production and mix—so even more incredible to discover Derek Fisher is responsible for every aspect. The heavy methodical steps Summon takes are deep indeed, but it is perhaps what they bring back up as they take the next—the sheer guttural passion and raw energy that rises through the music and vocals—that really gives the album a rarely heard quality and edge.

Summon by Gøren saw release September 22nd, 2023, on the very appropriately named Swamp Records.

Links:

• Summon on bandcamp
• Gøren on Instagram

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