They rise with fire in their eyes and scripture on their tongues, wielding devotion like a blade, twisting faith into fuel for their own ascension. The righteous and the ruthless, draped in the language of the divine, see conquest as destiny, cruelty as necessity. Their hands are never stained, only anointed; their war cries echo as hymns, their edicts carved into the backs of the desperate. They promise salvation…but deliver subjugation, whispering of providence while seizing power with bloodied fists. The heavens are their alibi, their throne ordained, their rule unquestioned…until the tide turns, and the faithful awaken.
There are those who sing of salvation and those who seize it, hands grasping not for grace but for dominion. NYC’s Adam Lytle understands this thirst, this fever that drives men to claim the divine as their own weapon. With Black Masses, his voice rises from the wreckage, summoning something primal, something feral, something teetering between a prayer and a threat. Here is no cathedral choir, no dulcet hymnal. This is faith gutted and set aflame, a psalm screamed into the void.
Lytle, a troubadour of the tenebrous, wields his nylon-string guitar like a scalpel, peeling back the skin of American mythos. His band scrapes their sound raw with blown-out amplifiers and clattering percussion, steeped in the unease of Leonard Cohen’s most fevered dreams, the apocalyptic storytelling of Townes Van Zandt, the theatrical menace of Scott Walker. Black Masses also drips with the macabre romanticism of The Handsome Family, the bone-deep gothic blues of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and the jagged, menacing swagger of The Stranglers. It shudders, it howls, it demands.
If his debut soared with orchestral grandeur, Black Masses is earthbound, clawing through the dirt. It breathes in the smoke of the altar, exhales something brutal. The sacred and profane walk hand in hand, hymn and heresy blurring into one. Lytle does not kneel; he conjures, seduces, commands. “Black Masses is a parable,’ Lytle explains. “A time-worn story of how the power-hungry use violence and religious fervor to achieve what they feel is their divine right to lead.”
The film, captured in raw, grain-laced 16mm by Douglas K. Horton and steered with a steady, unflinching hand by Patrick Cecilian, unspools like a fevered sermon slipping into delirium. Sean Shannon steps into the robes of a priest teetering on the knife-edge of devotion and derangement. He rises from a crackling pyre, soot-streaked and sanctified, strides through open fields with a fire in his eyes that no scripture can smother. What sins spill forth in the confessional’s suffocating hush? What tithes fill the baskets, what offerings are laid upon the altar? And what is this stitched-together specter, this twisted effigy, this crude scarecrow he raises to the heavens…an act of atonement, or blasphemy?
Find out below:
Lytle shaped Altars in the cold hush of a Parisian winter, wandering through the wind-worn streets of Arles. The record took shape with guitarist Cameron Kapoor, drummer William Logan, bassist Kevin Copeland, percussionist Mauro Refosco, vocalist Kristina Moore, and multi-instrumentalist Oli Deakin, each layering their own intensity into its framework. At Brooklyn’s Figure 8 Recording and Studio Windows, Lytle and Schenke pushed performances into uncharted territory, breaking apart expectations and piecing them back together with raw urgency. The music sways between despair and defiance, threading poetry through distortion, lifting devotion from the wreckage.
Altars will be released on streaming (pre-save here), and CD and standard vinyl will be available for pre-order.
Lytle spoke with Post-Punk.com about the single, his creative shifts, and future plans:
Can you share the story behind the track Black Masses? What does it represent for you personally and in the context of the album?
In the context of the album, Black Masses became a sign post for where we could go, sonically. The song was primarily tracked live and what you’re hearing is a group of musicians reacting to each other as they learn a new song. I remember being blown away by the violent sounds coming from Cameron Kapoor’s guitar as we began the take. When William Logan answered with his firing squad snare, I almost lost my mind. It’s a rare calibur of musician that can bring out lyrical themes like that and once we found the groove, there was no turning back.
While the story itself is rather linear, to me Black Masses is a fever-dream of inspiration. Somewhere in there is Kierkegaard, the U.S. Border Patrol, the militarization of the police force. the weaponization of religion, and the memory of Chilean protestors who wore eye patches as a badge of honor. The term ‘Black Masses’ plays both as a symbol of evil and a commentary on the sick comedy of it all. I’ll leave it up to the listeners to make their own interpretation.
Altars seems to have a raw, intense sound compared to your previous work. Can you tell us about the creative shift that led to this new direction in your music?
The creative shift was informed by the sociopolitical events of the past two years. Where 2023’s This Is The Fire was born from isolation and a growing concern for the world around me, Altars addresses the new reality; a war-riddled world where so much of the hard-won humanitarian progress of generations past is being undone by a power-hungry few. That frustration, anger and anxiety is manifested through the album’s arrangements, a result of my ongoing collaboration with producer Jonathan Schenke and the innovative group of musicians who contributed throughout.
What do you hope fans take away from Altars? Are there any projects or plans you’re excited about?
I’m very excited to tour this album. My live band is incredible and I view these small clubs and community spaces as forces of change. Places like that changed my life and we need them now more than ever.
I hope fans come away from Altars feeling heard. Feeling that their concerns are valid. But I also want people to feel empowered to speak up. With everything that’s happening right now, it’s easy to look outward and feel a sense of isolation and panic. When we come together and focus on our immediate community, our strength radiates outward.
Adam Lytle will be touring New York State. Get tickets here.
Tour Dates
- February 26 – Cassette, Queens NY
- February 27 – Colony Woodstock, Woodstock, NY
- April 30 – The Sultan Room (Album release show)
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