All Them Witches - House of Mirrors Review

Nashville band All Them Witches return from the outskirts with their first release in six years. House Of Mirrors was my most highly anticipated album of this year, and the band did not falter in delivering their signature blend of menacing riffs, folk-influenced storytelling and psychedelic stoner doom.

House Of Mirrors marks the first album with Christian Powers on drums, following Robby Staebler’s departure in 2024. The band also deviate from the longer songs of earlier albums, but retain a more refined - and perhaps more potent - force in these smaller bursts of energy.

The album as a whole deals with themes of societal roles, namely rejecting them and carving out a place for yourself in a judgemental world. On social media, the band have posted tarot-inspired artwork corresponding to each song; some of them existing cards such as the Queen of Pentacles, and some of their own creation. Much like the Fool, the album thus narrates a metaphysical journey of growth and self-realisation.

Opening ominously with ‘Red Rocking Chair’, the album makes no pretence of holding back. It was released as the first single back in February, and I’ve had it on repeat since. The track is their take on a traditional bluegrass song made popular by Doc Watson. It has a dark and brooding intro that evolves into a fuzz fest of huge riffs. Make no mistake, the riff itself is not entirely original - at one point it is even identical to their song ‘When God Comes Back’ from 2013’s Lightning at the Door. However, it is done with such fervour it is hard to fault. Layered with Charles Michael Parks’ reverb-laden spoken word, the track appeals to classic blues while preserving their psychedelic sludge.

ATW are certainly starting as they mean to go on. The following track ‘Culling Line’ was initially my favourite off the album, but that has already changed twice since my first listen. The song is about removing things standing in your way or not serving you, with Parks assuming the role of the executioner. Guitarist Ben McLeod excels here, lending it an arcane flair with his riffs and licks.

‘Aethernet’ is a straightforward blues song in structure, but as always, their fuzz adds a distinct edge to it. At first I thought it might be a skip, but it has since really grown on me. The track discusses the feeling of being chained to someone, evoking biblical images of the Fall and the ancient city of Babylon. Again, the instrumental morphs into something else entirely. The main riff has an undeniable swagger to it, and McLeod’s guitar work reminded me of Jimmy Page - particularly the Led Zeppelin track ‘How Many More Times’.

Right now, ‘Hold Up, Say What?’ is my favourite track from HOM. The riff pays homage to Led Zeppelin’s ‘Moby Dick’, and I make these references in admiration rather than to diminish ATW’s work. It immediately has a more frantic sound, with fast-paced verses and an aggressive tone creeping into Parks’ lyrics. Usually he has a very cavalier way of singing, making the most cryptic of lyrics sound matter-of-fact. Here he adopts a stream-of-consciousness delivery, blending different characters and voices, and thus making it hard to decipher an overall meaning. HOM often discusses leaving a place behind, and this song solidifies it as a nomadic one. The phrase “everybody’s only a door that you walk through” encapsulates this journey, in which people themselves can act either as obstacles or gateways to new places and better things.The bridge illuminates the bands’ compositional abilities, slowing things down and having Allan Van Cleave trade keyboards for violin. The lyric “my yellow belly fed the crew” depicts cowardice as a substance exploited by others, paired with imagery of being cut down and pulled like thread through the eye of a needle. Inevitably, the singer fails to fit or conform to this ‘idle life’. The song is a tapestry of classic rock riffs that culminates in screeching bends, making for a genuinely addictive listen.

Focus shifts now to storytelling, with the shorter and more mellow ‘Go-getter’. Parks sings of how he “took the torch down to Avalon”, conjuring up the Celtic otherworld in which King Arthur sleeps. He describes returning to a place of stagnation and “fighting the wick”, but ultimately burning it all down, watching it blaze in his rear view mirror as he leaves for good. The repeated lyric “I’m sorry, go-getter” acts as a stoic acceptance; it is destruction in the name of self-preservation and moving on.

‘Starting Line’ is another song about leaving things behind, which instantly struck a chord with me. It acts as the sister song to ‘Culling Line’ - while the former track discusses a removal of obstacles, this one is a desperate reminder of the places we cannot allow ourselves to return to.

The acoustic guitar in the verses encourages a more folky, intimate feel, as Parks sings:

“I don’t want to get ready,

I just want to shine, shine, shine

So I cannot fall back to the starting line.”

These lyrics particularly resonated with me, having moved back home after university and feeling my creativity dampen in the endless hunt for jobs. The song erupts into something fraught, but also purifying.

‘Turn On The Light’ is another favourite of mine, exemplary of the album’s many twists and turns. The verses are suave with traces of a pop sentiment, and heavy guitars once again transform it into something more explosive. The lyrics are refreshingly self-confrontational, with Parks asking himself “how long until you make the change that you promised to yourself? How long until you waste away, sitting idle on the shelf?” It is a wakeup call from the hopes and dreams we’ve put on hold, to take responsibility and control. The song’s artwork is a custom made tarot card featuring a lightbulb; it aptly bears resemblance to tarot archetypes of enlightenment, new beginnings and ideas being channelled into action.

ATW have long been influenced by Jimi Hendrix, and they really lean into this with ‘Angel On The Wayside.’ Mcleod’s riffs and solos are flawless, and combined efforts of each member results in a beautiful surge of fuzz and noise. A lot of the band’s ethos revolves around balance - night and day, angel and devil, heaven and hell. This song especially explores this, embracing the darkness as much as it does the light with its upbeat sound.

The stunning ballad ‘The Welterweight’ is the last of the singles. The title was inspired by Parks’ grandfather, a boxing champion in his youth. It ties a lot of the album’s themes together - the expectations fostered by your hometown and thrust upon you, and the ultimate decision to reject them.

I’ve been obsessed with one specific part of the song:

“You know, you know, you know that my fear of the sky is inherited

If only they could fly through the song

You know, you know, you know that look of the eye is imperative

If only they weren't the ways to the soul.”

Parks’ choice of rhyme here is impeccable, navigating complex family dynamics and a labyrinth of Icarian imagery in just a few lines. You can imagine the fear in his eyes, threatening to unravel a hard-shelled facade.

Towards the end, Parks sings of “falling down from the gated where [he] used to live.” I absolutely adore it when artists retell biblical events in empowering ways, and this is no exception. Parks returns to imagery of Lucifer and the Fall, but does so with a focus on finding your own way. He regains control of the narrative, knowing that “everything’s all right for now.”

While I thought ‘The Welterweight’ might end the album, ‘Saturn Song’ was in fact the perfect closer. It epitomises and concludes the journey of House Of Mirrors. The titular house comes to symbolise a dull place in which everyone resembles each other, and individuals see only other people’s beliefs reflected back at them. Mirrors usually allow powerful moments of self-discovery, but here they are the opposite - an obstacle to the true self. As Parks finds his way out of the house, he learns to follow his own path.

The song opens with “hail to the boys that march forever on, off to do what they want. ” While the preceding songs have been tumultuous, this one is celebratory. McLeod utilises sparse guitar licks, hypnotic and dark as ever, and brilliantly overlapping with Parks’ vocals. Cleave echoes the guitar line on keys, adding a nice psychedelic touch.

Admittedly, Nothing as the Ideal was a hard album to top, and House Of Mirrors leans more towards emulatory than groundbreaking in its approach to sound. Nonetheless, it is a fantastic album created from a palette of Sabbath-esque riffs and stoner-rock grooves. I imagine it will sound great live, with lots of improvisation and extended solos.

Personally, I think one of ATW’s most compelling aspects is their storytelling. Their lyrics are characteristically vague and endlessly open to interpretation, but the overarching message is a strong one. Aside from basking in the whirlwind of trippy soundscapes, I think we can all take something from this album. It is a journey through places of tedium and confinement, from which we emerge an enlightened version of ourselves.