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Thread: Album Reviews

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    No Chan, you can review whatever album you like. It would be great to read your reviews.
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    Paradise Lost - Faith Divides Us, Death Unites Us

    It seems that every time Paradise Lost release an album it's hailed as a 'return to form' but the truth is they've never lost it. This is typical of the British goth-metal pioneer's sound - hulking riffs, brooding atmospherics, uncomplicated yet massively emotive guitar melodies, and tortured vocals - and they are still the missing link between Metallica and Fields of the Nephilm. What's truly staggering about this album is just how finely crafted the songs are, and the vairety of material they offer, from the boom of 'First Light', the intensity of the ironically entitled 'Fragile' to the sombre lament of the title track, a song which concludes by exploding into classic rock at its most epic. This is truly an album rich and stacked deep with gems - the riff-tastic 'Universal Dream' is a masterclass in metal. Twenty years in, and they're still this good. But yet, you sense there's just something holding them back from greatness. Although almost everything here is finely crafted, perhaps that's the problem - sometimes the songs, whilst not sounding laboured, feel over-thought, and Paradise Lost have never been a band to just let it rip. For that reason, they'll always be a nine and never a ten - but they're a damnsight better than 99 out of the next 100 bands you'll hear.

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    Divine Heresy - Bringer Of Plagues

    The opening track of this record is called 'Facebreaker' - do I need to tell you what sort of music they play? Thought not. A band featuring Fear Factory guitarist Dino Cazares, this is an adaptation on his full-time band's sound - staccato riffing around double-bass drum patterns. Only faster, much faster. It seems that drummer Tim Yeung has three feet. Also like Fear Factory, the vocals switch from full-on agro to melodic croon. The problem, however, is that Travis Neal is no Burton C Bell. So, is this just sub-standard Fear Factory you shouldn't bother with? No, far from it in fact. 'The Battle of J. Casey' has an almost Kreator-esque thrash about it, and 'Monolithic Doomsday Devices' is brutal hardcore. This is an album which should be filed under 'intense', and one which will find a welcome home in any fan of modern metal's collection. The problem, however, is there's only so much you can do with double-bass patterns, and at times the record feels relentless - when it all comes together, as it does on the title track and 'Redefine', we are treated to something special; but when the ideas generator comes up short on 'Anarchaos' and 'Letter To Mother' we are left with something forgetable. A patchy record which comes nowhere near to eclipsing the band's 2007 debut 'Bleed The Fifth' (a near classic) this is well worth your time, but hardly more than the sum of its parts.

  4. #44
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    Them Crooked Vultures - Self-titled

    A minute and a half into 'No One Loves Me & Neither Do I' - the opening track on the debut album from 'supergroup' Them Crooked Vultures, the bastard child of Dave Grohl, Josh Homme and John Paul Jones - you think you have this record sussed. This is just Queens of the Stone Age with a (much) better drummer. Typically understated sunset drawl-rawk, a meandering jam akin to Homme's most recent QOTSA outings, you think. Then, like a left hook out of nowhere, a huge bass riff kicks in and the song takes off in a funk-tastic journey. John Paul Jones sounds like a man half his age on this record - just when you thought another 'supergroup' would inevitably disapoint, this record happens.

    The sound is certainly indebted to Homme's full-time project, but its not limited by it. 'Mind Eraser, No Chaser' and 'Dead End Friends' are a cauldren of sped-up blues riffs. 'Elephants' maintains an irresitable groove through warped time-signatures; 'Caligulove' is Cheap Trick schizo-pop; and 'Reptiles' pays homage to '...Levee Breaks' Led Zeppelin, but it sounds like Jane's Addiction covering the tune. This is an un-apologetic rock record, but one which is not self-congratulatory. There is some incredible playing here - especially from Grohl's, a drummer capable of immense dexterity who nonetheless underplays everything with aplomb - but there's no nod-and-wink showmanship, and that's refreshing. It's a good time record that rewards repeated listens, at times and other-worldly jam, but one which never becomes self-indulgent.

    Self-editing would have been advisable - 'Interlude With Ludes' and 'Warsaw or the First Breath You Take after You Give Up' add little that isn't already here in a superior form, and slow the record down in its middle section. But all is forgiven by the time you reach 'Gunman' - a bass-driven boogie that you will dance too, trust me. One of the few supergroups for whom you long for a second record.

  5. #45
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    A review of the The Flaming Lips cover of Dark Side of the Moon

    After watching and hearing the Flaming Lips derailment of what was intended to be a tribute to the Who on VH1 a year or so ago, I was a bit leary of them covering DSotM. It turned I was leary with good reason.

    From the brash intro of Speak To Me to the final heartbeat of Eclipse I was left unimpressed and a bit insulted. It's hard to believe this is the same band that recorded some of my favorite efforts of the past 10 years or so. While Peaches does a fine job, the guest spots from Henry Rollins, much like the overall performance of the album, simply falls flat.

    There are some bright spots to the album. The Great Gig in the Sky and Us and Them are definitely the standout tracks. They maintain some of the original tunes' integrity while incorporating some of the classic psychedelic synth vibe that originally put The Flaming Lips on the musical radar. That doesn't mean they are very good though.

    Overall: I can't help but think some of these tunes would better served on a various artists tribute to DSotM. All the sounds and groove of The Flaming Lips that their fans will dig with an uninspired/lack-lustre performance and sloppy/choppy production. Die hards will want to get it to complete their collection but otherwise not worth the money. If you want to hear a good tribute to DSotM, get the Dream Theater bootleg: MEGAUPLOAD - The leading online storage and file delivery service

    1 1/2 out of 5
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  7. #46
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    Quote Originally Posted by rocknrolldork View Post
    A review of the The Flaming Lips cover of Dark Side of the Moon

    After watching and hearing the Flaming Lips derailment of what was intended to be a tribute to the Who on VH1 a year or so ago, I was a bit leary of them covering DSotM. It turned I was leary with good reason.

    From the brash intro of Speak To Me to the final heartbeat of Eclipse I was left unimpressed and a bit insulted. It's hard to believe this is the same band that recorded some of my favorite efforts of the past 10 years or so. While Peaches does a fine job, the guest spots from Henry Rollins, much like the overall performance of the album, simply falls flat.

    There are some bright spots to the album. The Great Gig in the Sky and Us and Them are definitely the standout tracks. They maintain some of the original tunes' integrity while incorporating some of the classic psychedelic synth vibe that originally put The Flaming Lips on the musical radar. That doesn't mean they are very good though.

    Overall: I can't help but think some of these tunes would better served on a various artists tribute to DSotM. All the sounds and groove of The Flaming Lips that their fans will dig with an uninspired/lack-lustre performance and sloppy/choppy production. Die hards will want to get it to complete their collection but otherwise not worth the money. If you want to hear a good tribute to DSotM, get the Dream Theater bootleg: MEGAUPLOAD - The leading online storage and file delivery service

    1 1/2 out of 5
    Ouch!

    Sounds like they deserved it though.....

  8. #47
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    Kiss - Sonic Boom

    Kiss have always been big but never particuarly clever. Nothing much has changed here. In fact, this album has a decidedly retro feel to it: a conscious drive toward their '70s sound; formlaic art work with the lyrics printed clearly one page per song, like they used to be in the good ol' days; and a centre-fold photgraph of the band in all of their made-up glory, complete with signatures - a detail which suggests that they still take themselves waaaay too seriously. Blues riffs are still burried in glitter, the lyrics are still terrible, the songs are still written around ideas stretched thinner than the spandex pants in their collective wardrobe, and the whole thing is still camper than Christmas.

    But it works. It REALLY works. From the moment opener 'Modern Day Delilah' kicks in with its tumble riff and gargantuan chorus, you just know this is a good Kiss record. This is a band that has always worked best at its simplest - a hamburger served best with extra cheese and little garnish - and songs like 'Say Yeah', 'All For The Glory' and 'I'm An Animal' are the uncomplicated pop rock staples upon which they've made their millions. Purists may say it can never be vintage Kiss without Ace Frehley and Eric Carr in the mix, but Thommy Thayer and Eric Singer fill their roles adequately (the former contributing to a belter in 'Never Enough') and allow this to be what the band has been for at least 25 year - the Gene and Paul show. Ultimately this is a Paul Stanley album - the Starchild not only handled production duties and wrote most of the tunes, but sings his balls off througout. Simmons may have a standout cut in 'Russian Roulette', but he's also responsible for the stinker 'Hot and Cold'.

    Overall, 'Sonic Boom' is something of a Kiss trifle - layers of everything good from their near 40 year career arranged into one treat of a record. Thus you have 'Danger Us' and 'When Lightning Strikes' to represent the blues rock of their '70s heyday sitting alongside 'Stand', which replicates the pop glories of their '80s peak. You get the sense that the memory of 1996's disaster 'Psycho Circus' became something of an albatros, and this time round the band wanted to ensure that their career ended (for this surely is the end?) with Boom rather than a whimper.

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    New York Dolls - 'Cause I Sez So

    When the title track kicks in to open this record, you get warm sense of familiarity that comes with listening to legends - with it's blues riffs cranked to a broken-swagger and gusto, this is the Rolling-Stones-with-the-wheels-abouttofalloff we've come to love about the 'Dolls. It's a surprise then that the bulk of this album departs from that trademark sound. 2006's reunion record - 'One Day It Will Please Us To Remember Even This' - was unconciously nostalgic in its delivery of slabs of thick glitter-blues, and the hiring of Todd Rungren to produce 'Coz I Sez So' might lead listeners to expect a more self-conscious drive to re-capture the band's '70s sounds. It's a welcome surprise that this no ape of a record, and a sign of the hunger still abounding in the Dolls bellies which leads to some truly inspired moments being displaid here. The menacing refrain of 'Better Than You' is a dark beauty; 'Lonely So Long' is drenched in a Cohen-esque croon; and 'My World' is the sound of a later-day REM who have discovered their testicles. This album then is not an attempt to be 'modern' or 'relavant', but certainly a drive to be a more mature New York Dolls, and as such it's drenched in the unabounding honesty which made them great in the first place. The lyrics are still a hive of uncomplicated pinache and gutter-glitz wisdom, and its when the band are stipped down on the battered agony of 'Making Rain' - a slab of uncontrived melancholy so many EMO bands would give every dyed hair on their heads to pen - that we remember how poigant this band can be. No nostalgia trip, but still a familiar friend, and far from perfect - these Dolls are still coming at you warts and all.

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    Slaves To Gravity - Scatters The Crow

    Slaves To Gravity have been awarded many plaudits for their debut album, lapping up tags of 'best new band'. These are certainly well deserved, but in a sense they're also misleading, for there is little 'new' year. In essence we have a band which sounds like 'Purple'-era Stone Temple Pilots or 'Down On The Upside'-era Soundgarden, a slab of post-grunge which is littered with high-points. Whilst it's not a patch on any of its influences, it is an impecable debut, and, like Life Of Agony's equally post-grunge sounding 'Ugly', is far from being simply a copy-cat record. Song's like 'Heaven is A Lie' revolve around a swirl of riffs, harmonies and hooks which smack of a song-writing maturity far beyond this band's youth; and the macabre-jangle of the Jane's Addiction-esque 'She Says', with its bleeding vocal, is a taste of the talent in reserve here. Bolstered by the rich, crisp and thick production of Chris Sheldon, the songs have been worked at but rarely stray into the territory of sounding laboured. Rich, dark, and yet strangely uplifting, this is a sign of things to come - for whilst Slaves To Gravity are still a long way from penning a classic, should they learn to absorb their influences more fully into their own sound we may get a masterpiece in the future.

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    Mammal - The Majority

    A band that blends the funk of early Rollins Band and Rage Against the Machine into a monstrous sound, Mammal deserve to crush everything in their wake. This is a disc which drips with hunger, passion, anger and - that rarest of commodities today - something to say: indeed, on 'Smash the Pinata' this band hits the menacing wit that Hank Rollins' music used to posses. A maelstrom of sun-kissed blues riff, tight beats and belted vocals swirl out of the speakers at tsunami speed and with a massive sound which perfectly compliments the band's fist in the face to the post-consummerist world. 'Bending Rules' is broken funk, 'The Majority' is angular riffery, whilst 'Religion' is dark simplicity. Sheer bloody power delivered through understated musicianship and songs honed to the point of breaking. What are you waiting for?

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    Laruso - A Classic Case of Cause And Effect

    Yet another post-hardcore band. Just what the world needs, right? It's easy to be dismissive, but there are some real gems on this debut record. Like many bands of this ilk, hulking riffs and time-changes smash into catchy chorus and huge soundscapes in songs which pursue a series of peaks and troughs - you could never accuse this group of lacking ideas. They are, however, guilty of confusing sentiment and melodrama - as with so many bands who have arrived in the last five years, the band believes that an emotion is somehow truer if it is expressed more force. As is the case with the majority of these bands, the result often feel contrived rather than genuine, and the nuances of performance and mature vocal delivery would take this record to the next level.

    That being said, the songwriting here is remarkalbe. 'Overture' is an epic of biblical proportions, and the pop-sensibilites of '1998' are irrisistable. It is only on songs like 'End of Level Boss' and 'Borderline Exit Plan', however, that we get a sense of what this band can really do, for it is on these songs that they transcend their influences and find the confidence to display their own unique sound. More of this in the future could see an album that is impeccable rather than just impressive. This debut is bound to be enjoyed be any fan of modern alt-rock or post-hardcore music.

  13. #52
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    Airbourne - No Guts, No Glory

    This is rock with a low IQ and a high RPM. It leaves the listener with a feeling of ambivalence. One the one hand, you can't help thinking that the shameless AC/DC plagarism is a cheap shot - this band couldn't even spell originality, let alone produce it. On the other hand, you find yourself rocking along to this mutha - air drums, air bass, air guitar, sore neck, the works. This is the way that AC/DC wanted to sound in the 80s during their post 'Back in Black' lull: the difference is that Airbourne play with BALLS - big, hairy, sweaty, tequilla-filled balls, a raging enthusiasm that blasts out of the speakers. They make no pretence of their being anything 'new' here - this is no frills, blue-collar rock 'n' roll made for people who work a shitty job Monday to Friday and want something on a Saturday night which, to quote Lemmy, 'tears ya heart out and gives it back to you better.'

    Every cliche is here - songs about sex ('Chewin' the Fat'), songs about groupies ('It Ain't Over Till It's Over'), songs about defiance ('Bottom of the Well') and songs about the inevitable world domination of rock 'n' roll ('Raise the Flag') - but it doesn't matter, the ineffectiousness of this band is catching. It's based solely on the fact that Airbourne don't have a contrived bone in their body. They mean this, and the listener is left in no doubt that they spend most of their lives drinking and chasing women who fulfill the criteria of being 'Blonde, Bad and Beautiful'.

    Perhaps lacking the unbridled fury of their debut record, 'No Guts, No Glory' is nonetheless a decent record containing a mix of bonafide anthems - 'No Way But the Hard Way', 'Get Busy Livin' - and workmanlike by-the-numbers rock - 'Steel Town', 'Bottom of the Well'. Packed with adrenaline fuelled workouts, this is a good rock record: but they might just have a spectacular one in them.

  14. #53
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    From the vaults: Angel Witch - Angel Witch (1980)

    Contrary to popular opinion, Diamond Head were not the only NWOBHM band brimming with potential who failed to make it. Angel Witch have become hugely influential, but they barely made a blip on the musical landscape when this record came out 30 years ago. Full of great melodic solos, huge riffs and powerful vocals, this was a very good record full of potential. Yes, there are plenty of appauling lyrics, but the enthusiasm makes up for that; and yes, the production budget was 'tight' to say the least, but the rawness only adds to the flavour of the songs. The title track is a gem - a hypnotic collection of proto-thrash; the soaring chorus on 'Atlantis' demonstrated the potential this band had; the soft-heavy Sabbath stomp of 'Sorceress' is thunderous. There are some clunkers - 'White Witch' for example - but the feel of the underground that drips from this record gives it a magic that todays highly produced, sonicly huge albums will never have. There are the seeds of a genre of music here that Iron Maiden would go on to master - listening back, you realize how different your record collection could luck if it had been this band, and not the Irons, who had been in the right place at the right time.

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    From the vaults: Bad Religion - No Substance (1998)

    Unfairly maligned as a stinker in BR's unparalleled 30 years of quality punk rock, there was plenty to like on this record. The choppy time-changers of opener 'Hear It' grab the listener by the balls; the alt-rock crunch of the title track displays a hulking riff; and 'The Biggest Killer In American History' is typically anthemic. But somehow, this record feels a little more contrived than the solidified angst of other BR records - the departure of key songwriter Brett Gurewitz left a band searching around for a new direction whilst still clinging to the habits of old, a result which often leads to the banal ('The State of the End Of The the Millenium Address') or an uncomfortable new poppier direction - 'Raise Your Voice' sounds like Lou Reed writing for the Beach Boys, and it's ugly. Most of all, however, despite only clocking in at 40 minutes this records seems to go on forever - the absence of Gurewitz's more upbeat punk tunes allows the preaching of Garrafin to take its toll on thr listener. That being said, even when wounded BR are still a thousand times more interesting than the average punk band - it may not be spun too often by many of their hardcore fans, but tunes like 'The Voracious March of Godliness', 'Strange Denial' and 'The Same Person' make this far from a clunker. Even legends can have an off day.

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    Joe Bonamassa - Black Rock

    Fantastic. A return to his earlier stripped-down blues style.
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    From the vaults: Biffy Clyro - Blackened Sky (2002)

    Debut album from a bunch of Scottish oddballs who have spent the best part of a decade becoming one of the UK's leading rock bands. Most fittingly described as the missing link between Grunge and Prog, the band's songs are characterized by a mesmerizing swirl of time-changes, complex riffs and an orchestral approach to song-writing, all of which is held together by impossibly beautiful melodies. Imagine a Foo Fighters who were not embarrassed by the fact that they can play their instruments; or an Incubus that would embrace their progressive leanings. This is rock music with a brain and a soul - moving without being sentimental, powerful without being overpowering.

    Opener 'joy.discovery.invention' is emblematic of the record - a brooding tune on which the band snaps from playing loose to incredibly tight at the drop of a hat. Those searching for metallic bombastry will be dissappointed - although songs like 'kill the old, torture their young' contain plenty of angst, this is a band in touch with their femine sides, most aptly expressed on closer 'scary mary'. This record was the shape of what was to come, the begins of a truly epic sounds which reached it's apex on fourth record 'Puzzle'. There are plenty of rough edges here, but this should be hailed as a modern classic - the moment at which musicianship and emotion crept back into chart music.

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    Slash - Slash

    For a man whose past can only have taught him to expect trouble from singers, it might seem an odd choice to begin a solo career by working with over a dozen of them. Such is the weirdness of life that Slash insists that this is the easiest record he's ever made. It feels like it, too. The slick, light vibe which slips off this record is not what fans would customarily expect from Slash - this is a long way from the bomabastic schizo-sleaze rock of Guns 'n' Roses, or the ultra cool punk-angst of Velvet Revolver. Rather, what we have here is a polished rock record, and one in which we see Slash grow comfortably into his role as an 'elder statesmen' of the genre. That is not to say that this album sounds middle aged, but it certainly feels mature.

    None of this is detrimental to the quality. Indeed, it is this record's surprises which are its strong points. Fergie seems an odd choice of partnering for a man whose has spent 25 years on the cusp of metal, but her vocal on 'Beautiful Dangerous' is outstanding, a nitro-charged wail over a dark and funky beat which is sown up in the best hook on this disc. Similarly 'Nothing To Say' - featuring M Shadows from heavy metal kings Avenged Sevenfold - is a welcome departure for the Top Hatted one. Easily the most metallic thing he's recorded to date, the track features frantic riffing and shredding solos the like of which many guitar snobs probably thought he couldn't play. Contrastingly, the record's quietest moment, 'Saint Is a Sinner Too' featuring the relative unkown Rocco DeLucca, is perhaps its strongest moment - a beautifully solomn guitar piece complimented with hushed vocals falling somewhere between Jeff Buckley and Elliot Smith. Surprised aplenty then - even Kid Rock remembers that he can sing on the southern rock flavours of 'I Hold On'. It's pretty damn good, too.

    If anything, its the older guard who fall a little flat here. Ozzy Osbourne, bless him, tries his absolute damndest to steal the show, sounding as aggressive and focreful as he has in years, but also reminding this reviewer of Kermit the Frog, such is the 'studio magic' which is needed to get anything decent out of his larynx these days. Lemmy's 'Doctor ALibi' is a typical tale of rock 'n' roll excess over a hedonistic riff-fest, but it feels tired and generic by the standards of the legends playing on it. It's Page and Plant compared to the mess that is Iggy Pop's 'We're All Gonna Die', however, a lyrical performance so uninspired to be beneath a man who is - no arguments please - the most dangerous hellraiser that rock 'n' roll has ever birthed.

    But such moments are overshone by the strength of the other songs here. Myles Kennedy wraps his unfeasibly talented pipes around two tunes: the blues rocker 'Back From Cali' and epic 'Starlight', and it is perhaps his vocals which match Slash's guitar tone most fittingly. Simiarly noteworthy is Ian Astbury's 'Ghost', which sees The Cult man on his finest form for quite some time. Anyone with ears could have done without Maroon 5's Adam Levine limp wristed 'Gotten', but overall you can't help but enjoy this album. There's certainly nothing classic here, but what we have is far beyond competent. These 'Santana' albums normally don't work - there usually feel smug an unfocussed. This one doesn't. What Slash has done has placed his ego to the side. He sits back, rather than dominating the songs, using his music to bring out the strenghts of each singer whilst still producing a modern rock record which feels very much like an album rather than a collection of songs. Well worth a listen.

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    Skindred - Shark Bites and Dog Fights

    If I was to describe this as 'ragga metal' you'd probably stop reading. I can't think of a better term to encapsulate the sound of this Welsh crew, however. Crunching guitars and samples sit over punk arrangements, and vocalists Benji rythmically spits his lyrics over the top in a sound that recalls later-era Pitchshifter. The result of this sonic cocktail is a massic groove, most aptly captured in 'You Can't Stop It'. What makes this mixture of styles work so effectively is the band's pop sensibilities and skill in writing hooks, whether that be in 'Stand Up For Something' - a true anthem - or the almost trip-hop of 'Who Are You', with its soft vocal and emotive soundscapes. There is a lot to like here. There are a couple of clunkers in the midst - a cover of Eddy Grant's 'Electric Avenue' does little but put some big guitars on the original arrangement, and on 'Calling All Stations' the ideas well runs dry. That being said, this is a very solid record, and I'll bet you've never heard anything like it.

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    Baroness - Blue Album

    This is heavy, bitterly heavy, but it ain't metal. Show Baroness a song constructed around chugga-chugga riffs in 4/4 and they'd probably find it immoral. Indeed, these Georgians don't really play songs - these are pieces of music, almost suites, which breate and pulsate, swan dive and soar across luscious musical landscapes which feel to have no time. Somewhere between sludge metal and prog rock, this manages to be uplifting, far more sonorous than your average extreme metal band - if this all sounds pretentious, it shouldn't, for despite being complex, Baroness are not needlessly showy. Their music is devoid of nod-and-wink muso smirking, and the band play as one - guitarists Peter Adams and John Baizley weld their instruments into one, and drummer Allen Bickle peppers each track with intonations and subtelties. Moreover, this is brutally raw. Indeed, the production is so crisp and sparse that it feels almost live, an added slice of humanity which invites you to become absorded in their swirl of riffs and throbbing drums beats.

    The 'Blue Record' is painted in many hues. Expounding their stoner credentials on the explosion of 'Jake Leg', the sonic bombast is juxtaposed with acoustic lament of 'Steel That Sleeps The Eye'. A punkier version of fellow Georgians Mastodon, Baroness can more than hold their own with their more successful cousins, and pieces like 'Ogeechee Hymnal' and 'A Horse Called Golgotha' sound like the earth opening up and bellowing. If 'O'er Hell and Hide' feels like a wasted opportunity, you can easily forgive it in the face of the quality here.

    This is a challenging listen, but a rewarding one. Those looking for a verse-chorus-verse-chorus band will be frustrated, but those of an adventurous bent will be rewarded. If Baroness learn the value of unity they will one day deliver a classic. On the 'Blue Record', as with the 'Red Record' before it, each piece of music feels distinct and not necessarily realted to the other - this is a series of concertos not related to a larger symphony. If the lesson of coherence is learnt, Baroness will one day deliver a record that is inspiring rather than inspired.

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    Fear Factory - Mechanize

    It opens with industrial noises, a presage of the metallic precision which is about to kick in. The familar BOOM of double bass patterns sandwiched perfectly with short, punchy staccato riffs and roaring vocals usher in the rythmic assault that is Fear Factory - they are back!

    In the mid '90s there were four metal bands that really mattered: Pantera, Sepultura, Machine Head and Fear Factory. These were the four bands taking the remnants of thrash and welding it to underground influences to produce music of new visceral vibrancy. But Pantera imploded, post-Max Cavelera Sepultura made records of increasing mediocrity, and until five years ago Machine Head, like Fear Factory, seemed to have faded away. 'Mechanize' is Fear Factory's 'Blackening' - a bold statement of reinvention that is startling in its hunger, vision and, most importantly, its sheer aggresssion. Indeed, the band hasn't seemed this brutal since 'Soul Of A New Machine' waaaaaay back in 1992. Maybe its the influx of new blood - a new rhythm section of drum God Gene Hoglan (Dark Angel, Strapping Young Lad, Forbidden) and Byron Stroud replicate the mechanical precision of old, but add a new intensity to it, a perfect foil for the tort riffage of Dino Cazares. The results are vitriolic: the sonic savagery of 'Industrial Disciple', the brutal precision of 'Powershifter' and death metal tinges of 'Fear Campaign' are staggering in their rawness, and it is on listening to them that you realize just how indebted the modern metal landscape is to this band. Most of all, however, you realize how talented vocalist Burton C Bell is - every band that switches from gutteral bark to melodic chorus is ripping this guy off, and few possess the pipes to compete. Cookie Monster vocals are the easiest way for a band to sound generic, and it takes a vocalist with real charisma, with real feel, to make them distinct - Bell has always managed to do that, his rythmic delivery making these songs memorable. On 'Christploitation' everything clicks perfectly, and it will be the most masterul piece of metal you hear this year: whether charging like a bull on the edge of a heart attack, or brushing over the listener with dark, intricate interludes, this is the essence of Fear Factory in one song.

    Closing with epic 'Final Exit' - which ends with an almost hymnal electric symphany - you realize what it is that seperates bands like this from the countless others in their wake: the writing of ALBUMS rather than compiling a body of songs. It is a curious irony that a band whose subject matter has always been so obsessed with the potential and dangers of technology that in the Ipod age of pick 'n' mix music, they would consciously produce a record so retro in its approach - a musical journey which is far, far, more than the sum of its parts.

    Near perfect.

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    From the vaults: Metallica - St. Anger

    Possibly the most maligned record ever made, this album was nonetheless a noble failure. The sound of band hungering to embrace its metalllic essence yet reticent to simply replicate its past, 'St. Anger' is full of experiments, some of which worked and many of which didn't. At times the sonic equivalent of one those abract pieces of art which Ulrich loves so deeply, reviewers quickly pointed to there being much 'wrong' with the album - the stunted, tin-can drum sound, the turgid mix, and the absence of guitar solos being the most commonly sounded. None of this really gets to the root of the problem, however. What this album really lacked was nuance, the contrast of darkness and light, beauty and the beast, which made Metallica, like all truly great metal bands, unmatchable in the 80s and which heirs to the throne Mastodon are running with now. The absence of lighter moments makes for over 70 minutes of music which is as tuneless as it is furious.

    Given the well publicsed 'problems' which the band, and James Hetfield in particular, were enduring during the process of producing this album, perhaps this ferocity is art at its most pure: catharsis. Detractors quickly scoffed at the notion of 'millionaire crybabys', but such mocking doesn't really hold any water - the notion that money buys happiness or fulfilment is as disengenuous as the suggestion that Hetfield was not a deeply troubled soul during this period. Indeed, there is a rawness, a primal expression of torment, which seeps from this album and it is perhaps that which disturbed reviewers as much as the unconventional sonic approach - the uncomfortable vulnerability on display here makes for a times unnerving experience. At its best this rawness produced the Discharge riffage and naked vitriol of opening salvo of 'Frantic' and the titletack, and the slugging body blow of 'Purify', a song so heavy it could wind a buffalo; at its worst its left us with the aimless 'Invisible Kid', a musing on an ignored childhood which reaches for profound but only manages to grab trite.

    There is little contrived about this venting, then. Indeed, the main problem with Lars' drum sound is that it felt like a calculated attempt to get back to basics, a calculation which detracted from Hetfield's wounded vocals and visceral guitar playing (it is noticeable that the songs sound so much more powerful on the accompanying DVD studio performacne.) 'All Within My Hands' is the latter's finest hour, a beast of a song exploring the depths of a controlling personality which can result from inferiority - a huge departure from the 'fuck the world' mentality so frequently projected from Hetfield, the track nonetheless manages to stagger in its aggressiveness, and may be one of the most inventing recordings Metallica has ever laid down. Although decidedly less aggressive 'The Unnamed Feeling' is nevertheless a mongrel beauty of a song, and perhaps the true embodiment of the 'greasy' sound which Lars so often mistakenly employed to characterize the 'Load' albums.

    'St. Anger', then, was a real musical statement from a band in turmoil. Accusations of 'sell out' fall flat on listening to this piece of commercial suicide, and album without an obvious single and which existed apart from any musical trend of the time. It is a hard listen, and even harder to love - but it is a truly honest emotional statement. Ugly as it was, this was three guys making music from their hearts - a limping band, but a beautiful one statement despite all of its deformities. A maelstrom of riffs, time changes and a battery of some of the most aggressive music ever recorded, to these ears 'St. Anger' makes many of the death and extreme metal 'underground' bands sound as dangerous as Lady Gaga by comparision. And it is the song which encapsulates that ugly beauty most perfectly, 'Some Kind Of Monster', which would have perhaps been its most fitting title - it has certainly become its most appropriate epitaph.

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    Armored Saint - La Raza

    There is a hunger in evidence on this record. Like an old fighter mustering everything in the tank for one last shot at the glory which fate has denied them for so long, Joey Vera an co. sound like they mean it. We've seen a lot of that from the old guard in recent years - Testament's furious 'Formation of Damnation' was a career high, and on 'Ironbound' a defiant Overkill set out to throttle listeners into accepting that they deseve far more than the journeymen status they are so often awarded. That gusto is here too, right for the ominous orchestral opening to the record's first track, 'Loose Cannon'.

    In truth, however, Armored Saint fall short in their hunt for glory. That's not to deny that there are powerful moments here: on 'Left Hook From Right Field', with its punchy Helmet riff, John Bush sounds like he knows that this is far better than anything that the limping version of Anthrax could currently come up with; and on 'Chilled', a lament for life to slow down in middle-age, the band had created a perfect harmony of music and lyrics. But for every high, there is a moment of mediocrity which blights progression. Songs like 'Get Off The Fence' and 'Black Feet' stall, and sound stale in comparison to the joyfully punky 'Little Monkey' or the tight groove of 'Head On' or the titletrack.


    Armored Saint, then, aimed for great but only managed to clutch onto good. Yet that's no mean feat, and they deserve some serious respect. Unlike many bands of their era, this is a musical statement, not a nostalgia trip. This is no retro-thrash record - sure its fast in places, and its heavy, but the band has a musical pallette far wider than they did 20 years ago, and they're not afraid to use it. Grooving in places, blasting in others, this feels like a labour of love. Sometimes, you don't have to win the belts to earn to status of champs.

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    Scar Symmetry - Dark Matter Dimensions

    A band with multiple-personality-disorder, Scar Symmetry borrow heavily from every possible sub-genre of metal and weld their pickings into one unique sound, a kind of 'Russian Slice' of metal if you will. Imagine death metal vocals spliced with ultra melodic choruses, guitar wizzardy contrasted with extreme metal pummelling, soaring power-metal melodies pasted over blast beats. What is odd about this shameless eclecticism is its coherency - the sheer strength of the riffs and melodies here carry the listener through the bands genre-smashing sound. Yet, the band leaves you with an ambivalnet feeling - on the one hand, you can't help but enjoy the sheer unapologetic celebration of all things metal; but on the other, you're struck by the feeling that it's all a little contrived. Clever, certainly, but over-thought and over-blown - indeed at their most soaring Scar Symmetry's power-meets-extreme-metal sounds a little like Queensryche being raped by an angry bull. Their enthusiasm is certainly infectious, and their song-writing talents are undeniable, but anyone looking for an emotive musical statement will best search elsewhere.

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    Iron Maiden - No Prayer For The Dying.

    Where did it all go wrong? Following up 'Seventh Son For A Seventh Son' - an album which the band posited would take metal into the '90s - Maiden disproved their own prophecy by following it up with an album which was both tired and uninspired. Opting for a sound more stripped-back and consciously raw than 'Seventh....' and its predecessor 'Somewhere Back In Time', Maiden's ramshakle collection of songs felt like off-cuts from older records than a coherent album per se. Opener 'Tailgunner' possessed a strong hook, but by the time of second song 'Holy Smoke' things were already nose-diving. Little more than a collection of power-chords, the only thing less inspired than the guitar work was the lyrics - by this point, anti-religious metal songs were decidedly ubiquitous and devoid of menace or meaning. 'Bring Your Daughter (To the Slaughter)' and 'Hooks In You' saw the band hunt for pop sensibilities - but the former possessed a cringe-worthy hook and cartoon-sloch imagery which saw the band descend into self-parody; whilst the latter felt more like the Glitter Band trying to score a horror B Movie. There were certainly flashes of the days of yore. 'Mother Russia' provided a strong closer, and silly title aside 'Public Enema Number One' sported a memorable gallop. Yet this was an album which leaves the listener wanting more - more ambition, more substance and more of the bombast which made Maiden THE metal band of the previous decade. It was clear that Bruce Dickinson was tired of it all by this point - upon re-listening to turgid messes like 'The Assasin' (more melodrama than machismo) its amazing that he stayed for another record. At best, 'No Prayer For the Dying' strained to be memorable - it exists today as document of the time when traditional metal was thwarted by its subgenres, when the bands from the underground stole the centrepoint from the stalwarts of the '80s. On the evidence of 20 years ago, who would have thought that Maiden would be more energised than ever in 2010?

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    RATT infestation

    Track List
    Eat me up alive
    Best of me
    A little too much
    Look out below
    Last call
    Lost weekend
    As good as it gets
    Garden of eden
    Take a big bite
    Take me home
    Don’t let go

    I was really excited about this record coming out as I am a classic Ratt fan. Warren Demartini is one of my favorite guitar players. Also was never able to see them live back in the day. This is the original line up except for the obvious. Robin Crosby who died. He is replaced by Carlos Cavazo of Quiet Riot fame. Also missing is Juan Crousier on Bass who apparently chose not to be a part of this reunion. He is replaced by Robbie Crane. Not really replaced I guess but not original as far as I am concerned.

    I give this a 4 out of 5 stars. It’s has that “Out of the Cellar” feel to it. At first I thought this was Warren filled album but the more I listen to it it’s not. Cavaso gets his licks in as well. I was never a big fan of his but no doubt he is a talented guitar player. It has that twin lead stuff in like the old days with Crosby. It’s kick ass. Well produced with decent mixing. Drums sound great and the guitars are well balanced. Vocals are good to ok on most of the tracks.

    Some of my favorite tracks and why.

    Lost Weekend. Start’s out driving like “Lack of Communication” as has a cool hook. All the songs have some great guitar work. So let’s just say that’s a given on every song except one I’ll mention later.

    Last Call: This has RATT written all over it from start to finish. Starts out and ends with a really cool almost EVH like riff. Great tune.

    Eat me Alive: This tune make you want to grab the bong and take a few hits. This has Warren all over it.

    The only song that really sucks is Take me Home. It’s a ballad that makes me think of Night Ranger. Nuff said. I have not been able to listen to it all the way through. It's just a gay song.

    GO BUY IT. It’s good.
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    Cool review Jaggermiester - I've yet to check out that record, but the material I've heard on the radio sounds promising, and certainly a lot stronger than the stuff Motely Crue put out after their reunion.

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    Quote Originally Posted by binnie View Post
    Cool review Jaggermiester - I've yet to check out that record, but the material I've heard on the radio sounds promising, and certainly a lot stronger than the stuff Motely Crue put out after their reunion.
    It's good man I was real happy with it. I can't wait to see them live here in a few months.

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    From the vaults: Floodgate - Penalty (1996)

    Weight. Groove. Melody. Soul. It's like those words are carved into the core of this album, the first and only release from New Orleans doom-crew Floodgate. Having already fronted one band who were ahead of their time - Exhorder - you can't help thinking that Kyle Thomas must be a little bit bitter that his talents have passed largely unnoticed in the metal world. It's all a case of timing: two years later this band would have been huge. By that point, the Sabbath reunion was in full flow, Kyuss had a cult status and a nascent Queens Of The Stone Arena were making waves. Yet Floodgate's stoner bludgeon was out of place in the mid-90s, sadly. Centred around a huge, boulder-swinging bass-heavy sound which suts sparsel behind Thomas's smokey-croon, songs like 'Shivering' and 'Before the Low Divide' are reminiscent of Corrosion Of Conformity at their most groove-laden. Introspective moment 'Whole' was Alice In Chains covering Sabbath's 'Planet Caravan'; and on 'Running On With Sodden Legs', Thomas shows us why he was so influential upon Phil Anselmo.

    Thomas would re-emerge several years later in Alabama Thunderpussy, but in truth this is the best record - and certainly the strongest set of lyrics - he's ever wrapped his pipes around. Alongside Down's 'Nola', this hulking slab of sonic-bombast sat as the custodian of the essence of metal in a scene increasingly weakened by distractions in the mid-90s. A career short but sweet, but a legacy of soulful metal.

  31. #69
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    Quote Originally Posted by Jagermeister View Post
    At first I thought this was Warren filled album but the more I listen to it it’s not. Cavaso gets his licks in as well. I was never a big fan of his but no doubt he is a talented guitar player. It has that twin lead stuff in like the old days with Crosby. It’s kick ass.
    Fact is, Carlos is WAY better than people give him credit for. And unlike some of his peers (cough, cough), he KEEPS PROGRESSING...

    He's a total bro, and Warren's a pretty cool guy, too.
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    Quote Originally Posted by jhale667 View Post
    Fact is, Carlos is WAY better than people give him credit for. And unlike some of his peers (cough, cough), he KEEPS PROGRESSING...

    He's a total bro, and Warren's a pretty cool guy, too.
    Well they did a great job on this. I get goose bumps listening to some of it.

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    Progressing is very important - there is a reason that AC/DC haven't made a really good record for 30 years.

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    Quote Originally Posted by binnie View Post
    Progressing is very important - there is a reason that AC/DC haven't made a really good record for 30 years.
    I don't know about that. They just all sound the same.

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    Exactly - between 'Let There Be Rock' and 'Back In Black, whilst there was a definite AC/DC sound, they devleoped a little on each album. After that they just stuck to a formula, and consequently neve

  36. #74
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    Quote Originally Posted by jhale667 View Post
    Fact is, Carlos is WAY better than people give him credit for. And unlike some of his peers (cough, cough), he KEEPS PROGRESSING...

    He's a total bro, and Warren's a pretty cool guy, too.

    Oh and tell um I'm sorry about Take me home, the ballad but it fuckin suck balls. Only think I didn't like about that disc really. It's like where the fuck did that come from?? Who's idea was that shit? LOL

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    Well, they wouldn't be an '80s band if they didn't include a shitty ballad to get in the chicks

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    Deftones – Diamond Eyes

    That the Deftones have been unconvincingly pigeonholed ‘Nu Metal’, ‘Emo’, ‘Screamo’ and ‘Post Hardcore’ is a testament both to a journalistic dependency on labels, and to their own brand of metallic majesty. Like Faith No More before them, the Deftones are a band which has always existed apart from contemporary metal landscapes, making music stubbornly and persistently their own. The sheer level of creativity in this band has often seen its members pull in different directions, and consequently previous outings ‘Deftones’ and ‘Saturday Wrist’ – although containing stellar songs – felt like a clutter of moments rather than a fully-formed musical statement. On ‘Diamond Eyes’, the band is once again more than the sum of its parts – more coherent and concise than its immediate predecessors, the band has produced an album of such magisterial calibre it equals their own brilliance of their heyday.

    Indeed, ‘Diamond Eyes’ combines the grooving battery of 1997’s ‘Around the Fur’ with the dazzlingly epic sound-scapes of their masterpiece, ‘White Pony’. From the opening seconds of the beautiful cacophony which resonates from the title-track, the band leave listeners in no doubt that this is everything which fans could long for. Harbouring a sound structured through the contrast between the bounce and crunch of a rhythm section locked around Steven Carpenter’s punchy riffs, and Chino Moreno’s esoteric croon, which drifts over his band’s warped groove, songs like ‘Prince’ and ‘Risk’ are a logical progression of the Deftones’ quintessential sound. Indebted as much to alt-rock as to metal, this is a band which manages to be crushingly heavy and delicately melodic at the same time, presenting a range of voices without ever feeling contrived. Thus ‘Rocket’ alternates between Fugazi-esque sparseness and rich melodies firmly entrenched in ‘70s Rush; and ‘Cmnd/Ctrl’ manages to balance savagery with the ethereal, alternating between the anthemic and the perverse. This a band capable of combining the ultra-heavy ‘Royal’ and the delicately-sonorous ‘Sextape’ and ‘Beauty School’ in one musical vision – as such, ‘Diamond Eyes’ is as moving as metal is ever likely to be, oozing out of the speakers in a rush of emotion and musical tapestries so rich that they make the Cult’s ‘Love’ appear Spartan by comparison. And yet, for all the diversity of the moods they evoke, the Deftones never fall short of being powerful. Nuanced, accessible, challenging and beautifully complete, when future generation look back for the best music of the early Twenty First Century, they would do a lot worse than looking here.

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    Quote Originally Posted by jhale667 View Post
    Fact is, Carlos is WAY better than people give him credit for. And unlike some of his peers (cough, cough), he KEEPS PROGRESSING...

    He's a total bro, and Warren's a pretty cool guy, too.
    Have you listened to this jhale? Cause everytime I do I think about that statement. This is a damn good record. I can't get enough of it.

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    Ozzy Osbourne – Scream

    This is a unique Ozzy record for two reasons. Firstly, it is the only Ozzy record since 1991’s ‘No More Tears’ to actually live up to the hype job performed by Mistress Sharon Management – unlike every other Ozzy record of the previous 20 years, this one doesn’t suck more dick than Paris Hilton on an average Saturday night. Secondly – and far more importantly – this is the only Ozzy record not to be defined by the guitar player who lavishes his talents on it. That’s not to say that new boy Gus G doesn’t have his moments here, but rather to note that he hasn’t left his individual stamp on the Ozzy sound just as yet – largely because the songs were written before he became involved. The odd dazzling solo aside, this is a long way from his power metal day job, and there are a few moments where he sounds like a pastiche of Zakk Wylde.

    However, the absence of a God-like guitar player actually makes for a stronger record, one in which the strength of Ozzy’s melodies and the craft of the songs dominates. Too often in the past both have been overshone by Zakk’s increasingly busy guitar style, but here we have an Ozzy Osbourne revitalized and re-focussed. Indeed, his vocals sound better than anyone could possibly have imagined – the ‘studio magic’ on his voice is well hidden, and thankfully he no longer sounds like a demonic incarnation of Kermit the Frog. Rather, he’s clearly having a wail of a time and is at his menacing best. Yet it’s the sheer heaviness of the material that staggers you: opener ‘Let It Die’ is six minutes of granite fury, whilst the double bass-drum blast of ‘Diggin Me Down’ is probably the heaviest solo tune Ozzy has ever penned. On the sludge of ‘Soul Sucker’ he nods to his Sabbath past, whilst ‘Fearless’, ‘Crucify’ and ‘I Want It More’ are the finest blend of Ozzy-style metal we’ve heard since ‘No Rest For the Wicked’, the latter possessed of a melody stronger than anything you thought that the double O had left. Seriously, that good.

    Even the more introspective moments don’t hurt. There’s no ‘Mama I’m Getting’ Old’ or the aptly titled ‘Road To Nowhere’ here, nor is there a faux-Beatles ‘Dreamer’ tune to make us whince. The Creed-esque ‘Life Won’t Wait’ is a single in the waiting, and ‘Time’ has an oddly post-grunge feel to it – they’re no ‘Goodbye To Romance’, but you can’t have everything.

    Is this the best metal record of the year? No – it’s not even the best metal record of the month. But it’s bloody good. Anyone expecting ‘Blizzard…’ or ‘Diary…’#2 will be disappointed, and rightly so. You don’t fuck as well as you did in 1981, and it’s uncharitable to expect an artist in his 60s to conjure up the vibrancy of his heyday. But judged against the last two decades of his career, this stacks up way ahead of the competition; it is also infinitely more inspired, and consistent, than the sort of records his peers are knocking out – ‘Black Ice’ is nowhere near as solid as this.

    He’s Ozzy and he wants you to scream – you won’t be able to help yourself.

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    From the vaults: Panic Channel – (One) (2006)

    Essentially a side project from the rest of Jane’s Addiction when they fell out with Perry Farrell, Panic Channel released an immense debut which floated under the radar. Retaining the kinky beats and funky riffs which characterizes the kaleidoscopic metal of their mother band, PC nonetheless eschewed the more ethereal elements in favour a sound which is more direct and yet expansive. ‘Teahouse of the Spirits’ and ‘Awake’ swoon with an electric groove and sonorous melodies, the latter channelling the more epic side of Zeppelin without ever coming close to pastiche. Upon hearing the pipes of Steve Issacs you wonder why Velvet Revolver piss around so much in finding a singer with guys like this around – the versatility of his performance, from understatedly intimate (‘Lie Next To Me’) to shamen (‘Left To Lose’), is staggering, and on the introspective croon of ‘Said You’d Be’ you realize that there are still charismatic frontmen in rock. Ranging from bombastic to bruised, this is the sound which Audioslave aimed for and missed - ‘Night One’ spins from crunching to tingling on the flip of a coin, Issac’s soaring vocals offsetting Navarro’s truly epic riffing perfectly in 8 minutes of frenzied modern hard rock which promised so much for a band which disbanded too soon.

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    Taking Dawn – Time To Burn

    Imagine it’s 1990. Grunge has yet to happen and alt. rock is just that, alternative, distant, something which only those pasty kids you stuff into lockers at school listen too. You kick off your cowboy boots after a day cruising the strip and picking up make-up advice from Rikki Rocket, and you grab the new edition of RIP magazine from your bed – there on the front cover, in all of their long-haired and tight-panted glory, are the year’s hot new band: Taking Dawn. Or so this band would love to dream. In their world guitars wail over big riffs, big drums, bigger choruses and a production which is bigger still. They even wear the same leather jackets that Skid Row and Nunu Bettencourt used to wear, for they have chosen to live their lives as a tribute to the era which they so clearly love.

    It’s an impressive pastiche. This might be the best album that Mike Tramp never made, featuring the sort of multi-layered vocal harmonies that Mutt Lange would be proud of - almost every song features intro and outro leads alongside a solo, as well as detailed linear credits for the plank-spanking superstar who plays them. According to their lyrics, they’re bringer the rock back: ‘Like A Revolution’, ‘Fight ‘em With Your Rock’ and ‘So Loud’ are all concerned with the rise of the Cathouse, like a skank ridden whore from the flames. These guys probably refer to Dana Strum as ‘The Bard’. Is it profound? No. But it’s sincere, and you have to respect them for that.

    The problem for Taking Dawn, however, is that rock ain’t dead – it’s just moved on. This is a good record full of catchy, hook-laden metal that you could party all night too, and with songs as good as ‘Take Me Away’ they would have been huge 20 years ago. Now, however, whether intentionally or not, they have made a piece of kitsch. Taking Dawn face the same problem as Airbourne – just as the Aussies will never make an album half as good as ‘Powerage’, so whilst listening to ‘Time To Burn’ the listener can’t help thinking that they’d rather be cranking ‘Slave to the Grind.’ Maybe they should call their next album ‘Doomed to be Derivative.’

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