Album Review: Bastion’s Wake “Go Tell the Bees”
With Go
Tell the Bees, Bastion’s Wake deliver a cinematic and emotionally charged
concept album that feels both timeless and vital. Drawing inspiration from
myth, folklore, and the rituals of remembrance, the band crafts a sound that
blends melodic death metal’s weight, doom’s introspection, and symphonic
metal’s grandeur.
Formed in
2016 by Sami (vocals, 12-string guitar) and Ray (guitar), the
band found its full voice with drummer Rob Westbrook and bassist Ben
in 2019. Mixed and mastered by Øystein G. Brun (Borknagar, Crosound
Studio, Norway), this record cements Bastion’s Wake as a rising force in modern
metal—a band unafraid to fuse narrative depth with musical precision.
Everything
here sounds right. The guitars are powerful but never overbearing,
sitting exactly where they should within the mix. The drums have a natural,
organic presence, free of artificial gloss, while Sami’s crystalline
vocals float clearly above the arrangements. Synths, orchestrations, and
subtle electronic flourishes add cinematic color without overwhelming the core
metal framework.
The result:
a balanced, immersive mix that feels alive, warm, and faithful to the
genre’s emotional intensity. It’s a record that breathes.
The album’s
title draws from an old myth: when a member of the household dies or departs,
one must tell the bees—to keep them alive, to keep the connection
unbroken. It’s a poetic metaphor for communication between the living and the
lost, and it frames the entire album as a conversation with grief, memory, and
renewal.
Across ten
tracks, Go Tell the Bees moves from mourning to acceptance, from silence
to song.
1.
Motanka (00:59)
Rain
begins. A single guitar melody cuts through it. “Motanka,” named after a
Ukrainian protection figure, serves as a quiet invocation—a promise that what
follows will be spiritual as much as sonic. It’s not yet music, but
ritual.
2.
Willow’s Ruse (04:13)
The first
full song bursts into motion with layered guitars, crisp percussion, and a
subtle blackened haze. When Sami’s vocals enter, they don’t just soar—they swerve,
moving between ethereal melody and raw conviction. Ray’s guitar tone is
technical yet emotional, and Rob’s understated blastbeats whisper rather than
shout. It’s an early highlight and a statement of intent.
3.
(Don’t) Tell the Bees (03:32)
The album’s
emotional centerpiece. This is where the myth becomes music. Its chorus unfolds
rather than repeats, each return larger, more resonant. The song carries that classic
heavy metal structure—reminiscent of Dio’s narrative form—but shaded
darker, laced with grief and grace. Sami’s performance here is
commanding yet deeply human.
4. Tiny
Box (04:07)
A
hauntingly intimate track. Clean guitars shimmer as gentle synths breathe
underneath. The melody feels fragile, like it could collapse at any moment, yet
there’s a quiet defiance at its core. When the doom undertones rise near the
end, it hits like a memory resurfacing—unexpected and devastating.
5. This
Is Home (03:41)
The mood
lifts slightly. Mid-tempo and melodic, this track captures the idea of
belonging—not triumphantly, but honestly. The chorus is anthemic without
bombast, grounded by Ben’s bass tone and a subtle rhythmic pulse. It’s a
reminder that “home” isn’t a place—it’s what’s left standing after loss.
6.
Pathos (03:42)
Here, the
production truly shines. The track opens with piano and faint raindrops, Sami’s
voice delicate yet deliberate. Then come the doom guitars—slow, deliberate,
like thunder crawling in. The contrast between fragility and heaviness defines
the record’s core theme: beauty in sorrow.
7.
Lighthouse (05:04)
At over
five minutes, “Lighthouse” feels like the album’s spine. It’s a sprawling,
evolving piece—part ballad, part epic—balancing melancholy verses with storming
choruses. Rob’s drumming here is exceptional: patient, purposeful, shaping the
song’s tide rather than forcing it. By the end, it feels like the light in the
album’s darkness.
8. Run
Away (04:40)
A burst of
motion and adrenaline. The tempo rises, guitars tighten, and the urgency is
palpable. There’s a push-and-pull between flight and confrontation—a sonic
embodiment of escape. It’s one of the album’s more straightforward metal
tracks, but it still carries that unmistakable cinematic signature.
9. Nimue
(04:25)
Named after
the Lady of the Lake, “Nimue” returns to the album’s mythic roots. It’s
restrained and ethereal—minimal instrumentation, vast emotion. Sami’s vocal
delivery is spell-like, intimate yet distant. This is the calm before the final
storm, a moment of timeless stillness.
10.
Sunflower (04:54)
The culmination of everything that came before. “Sunflower” is both lament and battle cry. The band sounds enormous—thunderous drums, towering guitars, and vocals filled with conviction. It’s catharsis made sound, the point where grief transforms into strength. When it ends, it doesn’t feel like closure. It feels like awakening.
Go Tell
the Bees is not
just a collection of songs—it’s a story told through sound, an emotional
arc that rewards deep listening. Bastion’s Wake prove that heavy music can be
cinematic without losing its edge, and heartfelt without losing its bite.
It’s
beautifully produced, conceptually rich, and performed with precision and
sincerity. A true example of a modern metal band doing more than just making
noise, they’re building worlds.
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