She Becomes’ new single, “Necromancer”, has left me thinking less about music and more about the strange inscriptions one finds on very old gravestones. It’s a track that hangs in the air like November fog, built on guitars that feel like they’ve been dragged through damp, loamy soil and a bassline that has the coiled-up energy of a minor character in a Brontë novel, waiting for their moment to reveal a devastating secret.
This isn’t a simple love song; it’s a testimonial of resuscitation. Sherri Bell’s narrator is a self-confessed member of the “walking dead,” a wilting figure sleepwalking through existence with a “fake smile” plastered on. You can practically feel the grey mundanity. The “necromancer” here isn’t summoning spirits; they’re performing a far stranger magic: the act of truly seeing someone. It’s a resurrection fueled not by dark arts, but by the shocking intimacy of being witnessed.
Knowing the song was inspired by a mysterious headstone makes perfect, unnerving sense. I’m suddenly picturing the green-furred script on a Cumbrian marker, the kind of damp-cold that gets into your bones but also preserves things in a strange, static beauty. That’s the feeling here—a love that thaws you out from a long, forgotten frost.
This is a grunge-soaked Valentine for the hollowed-out, a promise sealed in shadow and feedback. It makes you wonder: what’s more terrifying, being a zombie, or being the one with the power to bring someone back?
