You have to feel somewhat bad for My Vitriol. In the early 2000s, the British band made such a promising debut but the group never found its footing.

At the epitome of the horrible Nu-Metal era, the band burst onto the scene in 2001 with Finelines, a powerful melodic-rock album that paid equal homage to the earnest emotionality of Nirvana as it did the sonic landscaping of the shoegazer genre.

But here we are, more than 15 years later and the band’s only follow-up comes in the form of The Secret Sessions — an “odds and rarities limited edition” record produced completely through a painful crowdfunding process, garnering the band no new fans but losing them many (the initial crowdfunding was opened in 2013 with the band promising a second full-length album and experienced continuous delays) — a shame because Finelines was such a strong record. Melodic and exploding with the kind of earnestness that is increasingly lacking in rock music, the album scored numerous hit singles and festival dates for the band.

It was also a unique success, in that My Vitriol is headed by an unlikely rock star of Sri Lankan descent, British musician Som Wardner.

Aside from a few vague excuses regarding technical difficulties, it isn’t clear why the band, post-Finelines, went on such a downhill trajectory or, indeed, why The Secret Sessions (or what was supposed to be the second record) was such a pain to make.

The closest argument is that My Vitriol is essentially a two-man band, with drummer Ravi Kesavaram being the only musician alongside the multi-instrumental playing Wardner to perform on this new record.

What is clear is that My Vitriol’s unique sound still resonates with a lot of energy. The band’s multi-layered guitar work harkens back to British shoegazer acts such as My Bloody Valentine in terms of sonic thickness, as does the penchant for dreamy soundscapes.

Drenched in delay and reverb, the guitars’ distorted appeal may seem like an obvious sound, but My Vitriol has always managed to make it its own — adding a sensitivity with its melodic choices and counter — melodic string work.

The drums and bass add a solid rhythm section, but it truly is the guitars that give its songs an aura of largeness. Had it sustained its momentum, it isn’t far off to say that the band could have become the first arena shoegazer-rock band. Refer to tracks such as “If Only... (God Only Knows)”, a Foo Fighters stadium anthem that moves like a speeding train that never was, or “The Agonies and The Ecstasies” and — pardon the redundancy — ecstatic slice of dueling, echoing guitars and pounding percussion work.

Another strong aspect that the new record sustains is in Wardner’s emotive vocals — smoldering, melancholy and (still) angry. Those born worshipping early 90s grunge music will find it easy to recognize the dramatic — some may say “theatrical” — yelping, huffing, and crooning; but somehow, Wardner’s vocalizing doesn’t feel out-of-style.

On tracks such as opener “We’ve Lost Our Way” he comfortably zones into Bono — like bombast without leaving behind the pensive emoting of early Dave Grohl. “It’s So Damn Easy” finds him swelling in and out without ever sounding invisible underneath thick effects.

Many tracks, such as “London City Lights” and the stoner-rock-ish “This Time” feature tremolo guitars guzzling alongside trailing guitar echoes — beautifully crunching Wardner’s verses and choruses. There’s a welcome predictability to the band’s layered production.

Other tracks showcase how the band’s sonic palette is only part of its sound. “Lord Knows How I’ve Tried” is the kind of grungy ballad the band does so well, only scuffled a little with quasi-industrial drumming that comes off as a little cheesy at this point. Yet, the lighter-waving 80s-pop chorus makes up for it.

The Secret Sessions might as well be an actual follow-up to Finelines. Aside from one cover song tagged at the end (it’s that night metropolis sound tracking song from the Drive soundtrack), The Secret Sessions feel complete and compact. The way the band treats its fans might mean it comes off as unsympathetic, but that doesn’t mean it can’t write very good rock songs.

— Marcel Thee

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