Tricky fucker, that Dax Riggs. First he comes out of hibernation in late 2005, releases the first new deadboy & the Elephantmen album in three years with a female drummer in tow, tours the shit out of it, disappears again, then nixes the deadboy name to release this follow-up to We Are Night Sky under his own (ghoulish) moniker. Working with Matt Sweeney (Chavez, Zwan, Early Man, El-P) has definitely helped focus Riggs' sound—where Night Sky bristled and buzzed with manic energy uncontained, We Sing of Only Blood or Love is certainly sleeker-sounding. As ever, though, it's Riggs' unmistakable world-weary wail packed with old blues imagery (rivers, death, slowly rolling heartache), tweaked by his own special surrealism (exploding moons, demons tied to chairs) that make these bubbling swamp serenades sound so odd and enjoyable.
It's the kind of racket you'd imagine Acid Bath might be doing if they'd been given the chance to grow up, and in fact this album is possibly the closest Riggs has been to his former band since those death clowns said goodbye a decade ago. Here he does soft, dark and full of cosmic wonder ("The Terrors of Nightlife"), pensive and morbid ("Dog-Headed Whore"), but for the most part this record rocks with a classic swagger, pianos jangling, drums a-thumpin' and Riggs wobbling his head back and forth in some dive bar in Helltown, LA. Richard Thompson cover "Wall of Death" sounds a bit too Green Day for comfort, but a rocked-up "Scarlett of Heaven Nor Hell" (be sure to check out the acoustic original somewhere online) and an Andrew W.K.-remixed drift-away closer ("Deathbryte") end this sojourn through the darker groves of the soul in suitably somber fashion. Ah-haw