The Lone Madman continues both my doom spiral and my residence in Finland to continue the genre exploration. Unlike the last week’s review of Profetus though The Lone Madman is not a veteran band, since Let the Night Come is their full length debut. Also, unlike Profetus, The Lone Madman does not delve into funereal realms, instead opting for doom distinctly of earthly and epic variety.

I can only imagine the session when The Lone Madman came up with an opening riff off the title track. “With a riff like that, we absolutely have to make a killer song. No, not just a song, we can now make the whole killer album.” If I was a musician I probably would have thought the same the riff is so delightful. Building off of it, dressing it and developing it further The Lone Madman continue on with their riff domination alternating it with quieter introspective moments. Melody on Let the Night Come is king, and there are several layers of it here as well. Clean accented vocals fit perfectly with the flow. To say this music sounds recognizable is fair, to say it sounds like someone else is not, as The Lone Madman combine stateliness of Candlemass, sinister character of Lord Vicar and epic posture of Atlantean Kodex. Another distinct and attractive feature is the band’s clean full-bodied sound, somewhat unexpected from the young band.

In four lengthy tracks The Lone Madman also manages to showcase quite a few facets of their music. Not everything here is epic beauty. The Downfall is quite a bit heavier, along the lines of Count Raven, but not always free flowing, and significantly more pensive. Haxan invokes the pagan side, nervy native flute, gang vocals, grinding dissonance and native tongue reminding me of Estonian Metsatoll. Title fitting closer House of Mourning brings the epic doom back, but its story telling pace and melodies are tragic, almost tear jerking, the way I like my doom.

Standing on the shoulders of those who came before them, yet managing to weave their own style The Lone Madman delivered the picture with dual connotations, both sad and stoic at the same time. Just like I can’t make out whether the band sings “Let the Night Come” or “Don’t Let the Night Come”, I kept twisting from relaxation to bereavement on the album, and that is the good thing.