Cnoc An Tursa Returns with a Roar: A Cry for the Slain

Ah, the sweet allure of anticipation! For nearly a decade, Scottish outfit Cnoc An Tursa played a tantalizing game of hide and seek with their fans, lingering on the fringes of our musical consciousness. Their tantalizing melodies and rousing anthems echoed in the halls of our playlists, yet their sporadic output left many scratching their heads in frustration. But, dear readers, wait no more! The moment has finally arrived-Cnoc An Tursa is back in the limelight, unleashing their third full-length album, A Cry for the Slain, and trust me, it’s nothing short of a tour de force.

After a lengthy nine-year intermission, the band has managed to weave together the very essence of their two-decade journey. A Cry for the Slain promises to give us everything we adore about them: blackened folk bangers, steeped in elegance and imbued with an emotional depth that could make even a tempest feel relatable. Yet, the weight of expectation often threatens to overshadow the reality of art post-hiatus. So here’s the question: does their latest offering evoke tears of triumph or a bittersweet lament?

Musically, A Cry for the Slain is a delightful homage to their earlier work, beckoning us back to the exhilarating escapades of their debut album, The Giants of Auld. If you’ve been acquainted with their sound, you’ll find that this new record is more in tune with that earlier incarnation, leaving behind the melancholic undertones of The Forty Five. Here, the wistful choruses meld with triumphant melodies, creating an intoxicating musical potion that is hard to resist.

The album opens with the hauntingly beautiful “Na for Ghorma,” where crashing waves and reverb-laden guitars transport you to a mystical realm. As the female vocals rise and soar, the initially mournful tones explode into a whirlwind of crashing intensity with “The Caoineag.” Cnoc An Tursa deftly balances the raw edges of black metal with moments of contemplative sorrow, creating a rich tapestry of sound that envelops the listener. Tracks like “Baobhan Sith” and “Alba in My Heart” are dazzling showcases of their ability to manipulate dynamic tension. And let’s not forget my personal favorite, “Am Fear Liath Mòr,” which serves as a beautiful bridge between the ethereal and the robust, conjuring echoes of legendary influences while sounding unapologetically like Cnoc An Tursa.

However, not everything shines this time around. The penultimate track, “Address to the Devil,” feels a bit like a stumbling line in an otherwise captivating poem. While it starts with promise and intensity, it wanes into a meandering pace that leaves one yearning for the vigor of what came before. The song tries bravely to stand tall, but in comparison, it seems to lack that fiery soul that the other tracks embody so perfectly.

Still, aside from this minor misstep, A Cry for the Slain is a beautifully produced and cohesive work that warrants multiple spins. Clocking in at a perfectly digestible forty-four minutes, it’s an album that invites you back with open arms and refuses to let go-truly the mark of a band revitalized and resolute in their artistry.

Cnoc An Tursa is back, and if their past is any predictor, we can only hope they won’t keep us waiting another nine years for the next chapter. As a freshly minted aficionado of their work, I’m almost jealous I didn’t discover their magic sooner. But ah, for now, let’s revel in A Cry for the Slain, knowing that this hiatus has only ushered in a more potent version of the band we adore.

Mark your calendars, my musically inclined friends-this gem drops worldwide on April 24th, 2026, courtesy of Apocalyptic Witchcraft Recordings. You won’t want to miss it!