REVIEW: SUMAC + Moor Mother - The Film

On paper, combining spoken poetry with metal seems like it wouldn’t work. In fact, it’s the concept behind one of the most controversial albums of the 21st century, Lou Reed & Metallica’s Lulu. If you know anything about that album’s reception, you would know that Metallica and Lou Reed fans both seem to dislike it - and they’re two of the most beloved acts in music. If they can’t do it, who can?

Enter SUMAC & Moor Mother. SUMAC is the brainchild of Aaron Turner, formerly of sludge group Isis, whose 2000s output is now considered some of the most influential in the genre. It’s a supergroup of sorts, with drummer Nick Yacyshyn and bassist Brian Cook coming from esteemed groups like Genghis Tron and Botch respectively. However, as much as the term “supergroup” makes it seem like a gimmick, it absolutely is not. SUMAC are producing some of the most mind-bending music in metal at the moment, showing a huge range of versatility while still remaining extremely heavy; their collaboration with noise legend Keiji Haino in 2018 being a great example of the boundaries they’re willing to push.

Our other key player is Moor Mother, an artist who has covered too much ground in the past decade to fit into just one review. She is arguably best known for her hip-hop albums, though, such as 2020’s Brass, a collaborative album with similarly conscious rapper billy woods, which she released within the same year as True Opera, a noise rock album with Mental Jewelry. The keyword here is, once again, versatility. It’s this versatility that allows SUMAC and Moor Mother’s collaboration on The Film to make sense - and the music itself backs this up as well.

The first single and opening track on The Film is ‘Scene 1’. Just like the first scene of a movie, it sets the themes and types of sounds you’ll be hearing throughout the record. Consisting of droning, distorted guitar chords and no percussion, it lends your focus directly to Moor Mother’s poetry. Her words touch on conflict, racism and injustice with lyrics like “All they know is hate” and “We didn’t demand more from a democracy of monsters”, her delivery gradually becoming more and more impassioned matching the progressively more claustrophobic noise of distorted feedback in the background.

The second single, ‘Hard Truth’ is a sort of transitionary moment on the album, along with the similarly short ‘The Truth is Out There’. Their inclusion on the record makes some sense, they break up the more intense moments on the album - even if they can feel a tad unnecessary. It makes repeated listens much more palatable, and they both clock in at around 90 seconds regardless. The final single released, ‘Scene 4’, shows another side of the record entirely. The cacophony of backing vocals at the start, the way the guitar rumbles in the background, never quite picking up but you always expect it to. It creates this striking sense of unease, as Moor Mother repeats the phrase “Nobody told me” between verses, over and over, before reaching some sort of conclusion.

However, the bulk of this album is made up by second and final tracks, ‘Scene 2: The Run’ and ‘Scene 5: Breathing Fire’, respectively reaching 13 and 17 minutes. Not a second is wasted in either song either. ‘Scene 2’ in particular has this sort of pulse at its core. At certain points, a single low, metallic bass note is strummed. It’s SUMAC bringing you back to planet Earth after this heavy yet almost formless exercise in tension and release. Moor Mother’s words compliment this perfectly, the phrase “I was running” central to the song, imagery such as “What do we return to? Demolished homes?” delivered with such urgency. It’s terrifying to listen to at points, there’s this apocalyptic feel to it, but that feels like the point - this is reality for many people in war-torn countries that she talks about throughout the record.

‘Scene 5’ is similarly a call to action, the end of Moor Mother’s part has her repeating “Take off running”. It’s probably the most huge-feeling song on the entire album, and you’d be right for thinking that this is because of the 17-minute runtime - however, while it certainly does feel like a journey of epic proportions, it also might be the heaviest SUMAC’s instrumentation gets on this record, with these pummelling drums and sustained guitar chords all throughout the entire first half of the song, before winding down during the last seven minutes into something more gentle. It marks some sort of respite from everything you’ve heard up to this point. It closes the album on a reflective note - much like the lyrics themselves. It’s like staying behind in the cinema to watch the credits after a movie - which in the end, is quite fitting for The Film.

Score: 8/10

The Film was released on April 25th 2025.

Words: Jake Leonard

Photos: SUMAC + Moor Mother