Cradle Of Filth are akin to Halloween; wearing a slightly different costume each year, sharing scary stories and frightening a few conservatives, but the spirit remains the same.
Few bands rile extreme metal's scene police like Cradle Of Filth. Maybe it's outspoken frontman Dani Filth, their commercial success, major label affiliations or long-held refusal to remain within black metal's strict confines. Perhaps it's all of the above. Whichever, you'd struggle locating a more maligned band; in many cases unjustifiably so.
This reviewer may lose scene points, but the UK veterans (now on album number ten) have been on reliable form since 2004's Nymphetamine, biennially cranking out solid symphonic extremity. The formula doesn't change much; dollops of Maiden-inspired melody, orchestral flourishes and Filth's polarising rasps, screeches and shrieks. This time, add tales of lycanthropy, vampirism and further mythological horror. The trick is certain elements floating in and out of prominence, returning a few records down the line when they feel fresh again. The Manticore… doesn't sidestep this game-plan; not neglecting their trademark theatrics but toning down the bombast. One complaint about recent releases was the guitars often lacked adequate grunt, buried beneath symphonic arrangements. Here, Paul Allender's incisive, NWOBHM-infused riffage is afforded greater focus, meshing with said aspects rather than battling them for air time on thrashed-up The Abhorrent and Pallid Reflection. Clever move, given his songwriting drove career standouts like 2000's Midian. The gothic female vocals are again allowed additional space and tempos upped fractionally too. Largely, punk-esque urgency ensures it avoids feeling redundant; For Your Vulgar Delectation and Frost on Her Pillow are two of their strongest tracks in eons.
Cradle Of Filth are akin to Halloween; wearing a slightly different costume each year, sharing scary stories and frightening a few conservatives, but the spirit remains the same.