All Them Witches are an easy a comfort band for alternative music fans, thanks to their ability to rampage through Metal, Classic Rock, Stoner, and Prog—pocketing the best bits and fusing them into a sound that’s truly unique. Their 2020 release Nothing as the Ideal is no exception.
Originally a foursome formed in Nashville in 2012: Michael Parks Jr. with his conspicuous voice and booming bass, Robby Staebler on drums, Ben McLeod on guitar, and Allan Van Cleave on keyboard. Nothing as the Ideal marked their first release after Van Cleave’s departure to tour with Primus and Mastodon. When the remaining trio had the chance to record at the world-renowned Abbey Road Studios, they jumped at it. – “The thought of going to Abbey Road had never entered my mind, but it was available. We figured out we could afford it, and were like, ‘This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing — let’s do it!’” Said Staebler.
Saturnine & Iron Jaw opens the album eerily, with ATW’s signature fuzz and a single, tolling bell that sets a haunting tone. It transitions from a smooth guitar solo into a TOOL-esque barrage of riffs, establishing the album’s constant musical push and pull—which in some tracks hits harder than others. What consistently shines, though, are the lyrics. Written in short, punchy verses, they emphasize the poetic quality of the band’s writing. The track ends with, “Common day, alleyway, hierophant.” A hierophant, one who interprets sacred mysteries, also appears in tarot readings and can symbolize marriage or spiritual teaching—hinting at deeper meaning beneath the surface.
The next track, Enemy of My Enemy, builds on that momentum. Tumbling drum fills give it a more powerful energy than its predecessor, while the lyrics still pack a visceral punch. The interlude, Everest, offers a brief, folky breath. The soft, echoing guitar creates a cleansing contrast to the heavier material that surrounds it.
We’re reintroduced to Coyote Woman—a recurring figure in the band’s lore. After exploring her marriage and death in 2013’s Lightning at the Door, The Children of Coyote Woman tells a new tale, a parable of two brothers fighting over their mother’s possessions. The storytelling here takes centre stage, deepening the mythos ATW has built across their discography.
The penultimate tracks crank the volume to 11. 41—my personal favorite—strikes a perfect balance between crushing choruses and more mellow verses, allowing both the lyrical depth and instrumental strength to shine.
Finally, Rats in Ruin closes the album. Stripped back compared to the previous two tracks, it features Parks’ haunting voice, which fades out less than halfway through the nine-minute song. From there, the listener is pulled into a chaotic crescendo—something straight out of Willy Wonka’s tunnel scene—before gently descending into a joyous comedown to soothe the mind and land you back on your feet.
Overall, the album works in its own beautifully chaotic way. The direction doesn’t always make sense, but I trust ATW to make the journey worth it because of their sheer talent. It’s not something you hear every day. There isn’t a skippable track on this album —and really, what more could you ask for?