There are few times I remember visibly weeping in front of others. Once was when my grandmother passed away and the other was when I saw Warning playing Watching From A Distance in full at Damnation Festival.
In the latter I wasn't the only one as Patrick Walker's aching vocals and emotional doom sound has a way of touching everyone, even the guy in the corpsepaint, there's just a overwhelming sadness to it all that swallows you, taking you to the point where the only release is tears and an outpouring of emotion where his grief becomes yours, an entire room full of people linked by lost loved ones, indulging in a public display of sadness, holding each other, in that moment all sharing one emotion.
The more important side of this was that many in the audience though Warning was done, starting in 1994, their debut album The Strength To Dream, came out in 1999 and was one that suited the doom scene at the time, but it's with 2006's Watching From A Distance they solidified themselves but thats were it ends in 2009 it seemed that Warning were no more, Walker starting 40 Watt Sun, the band he has been much more prolific with a lean towards alt rock and post-gaze, slow unfolding atmospheric rock, still rooted in the doom world but brighter.
In recent years 40 Watt Sun has been Walker's sole pursuit, but with the reunions to play that seminal second album in full, gaining traction, especially with the performance at Roadburn committed to record as a live album, it was time for Warning to return from the ether with another emotional gut punch that will expose the rawness and pain in the world, setting to work on their first album in 20 years.
The entire studio process put on to celluloid (or more likely digital by filmmaker Geert Braekers who released a short documentary chronicling the recording of the album, capturing every intimate moment, every rewrite, every unscripted moment of a band reconvening again to recapture what made them 20 years ago.
From that last line up only Walker and guitarist Wayne Taylor remain, Marcus Hatfield and Andre Prestidge joining on bass and drums, Rituals Of Shame was written over three months in early 2025 and recorded in a former 140-year-old church with Chris Fullard (Idles, Sunn O))), Ulver), Rituals Of Shame is inspired by a "transformative period" in Walker's life and also from the reflected love and reverence that the people have for the band and their music.
We begin with the title track and any wonder whether this may just be a 40 Watt Sun record under a different moniker is dispelled with the massive opening lament of a echoed drum beat and a glacial moving riff that irks forward until this distinctive vocals from Walker come in. The song builds throughout it's massive run time, the repeated use of "I Can't Close My Eyes, To It" will become a major part of their live show I'm sure, sung with that powerful fragility.
This is definitely Warning, the heaviness, the pathos, the underlying mixture of hope and despair that carries through every song, the title track firmly establishes that this is Warning back to their atmospheric best with long, read very long, form songwriting, the first part of the track shifting into a different groove that comes from the solo section and leads into the last part of the song.
These shifts are subtle never going full prog madness but also acting as a new chapter in these journeying stories Warning create. With the rebirth of Warning begun things get heavier with the downtuned dirge of Stations, another cavernous set of riffs underpinned by the sterling drum work, where fills are used to great effect.
I realise I go on about Patrick Walker's voice but it's so unique, emotionally resonant and heart breaking, somewhere between Sivert Hoyem of Madrugada, Gord Dowie of The Tragically Hip and Steve Hogarth from Marillion, seeing that Walkers took a lot of influence from that band was a very pleasant surprise for me due to my own love of Marillion.
You can hear it, in the choruses, those pace shifts, and the lead guitar breaks that only need a few chords to prove this point, tracks like Night Comes Down, owing as much gratitude to Marillion as they do the likes of Sabbath, it's a shorter piece but still just as effective while with Landing Lights the spirit of Rothery and Hogarth burns brightly, showing that while doom Warning are storytellers with a love of prog, they just make everything heavier.
The chorus on Landing Lights is one of the tracks that if you haven't had a good sob yet, this one will break you, as the transition into Teacher will keep the levels of emotion high, a keening, baring of the soul that closes this return from Warning, even the most stoic, unfeeling of human will be brought to their knees with this one, the last refrain of "And I Can't Count To The Ways I Love You" carrying a deeper meaning to the listeners who have begged and pleaded for this band to return.
Whether Rituals Of Shame will carry the same cult status as Watching From A Distance I don't know, that will all be revealed in time, however it's a magisterial return from Warning after 20 years. 10/10
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