Album Reviews

[binnie]

Probably yes.It is a shame things did not work out better with Corabi and Crue.I really liked the album and would have loved to hear at least one more.

Review on page 5, post 199 if you're interested.

[Dave's Bitch]

Christ i can just imagine them ripping it up with John Bush.That would have been fantastic.I love Armored Saint.Did VR not offer Myles Kennedy a shot and he turned it down?.Sure i read that somewhere

Great review of the Corabi album by the way.I also like the SFSGSW and The Inner Sanctum reviews

[fourthcoming]

I always thought Baz would have been good with VR,.....too bad he turned them down. They weren't bad with Weiland though.....I prefer Contraband to Libertad but that's just me. Too bad Izzy never joined the band.

[fourthcoming]

Binnie, has there been any Punk reviews in this thread? I'm not the biggest punk fan in the world but I do like some of it. A friend of mine turned me on to Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers a few years back. Yes, he/they were a bunch of underachieving junkies....but for some reason I kinda dig his guitar sound.

[binnie]

They turned Baz down (largely due to Slash, who said it sounded like 'Skid Roses'). It might have been cool, but I suspect they were wary of being a 'heritage' band. Fair play to 'em.

I don't think we'll ever see another VR record now that Slash is set on a solo career: he probably makes the same money with much less hassle....

[fourthcoming]

I can understand why they turned him down......I'll give them that. I agree with you too that VR may be permanently finished. I head something about Corey Taylor but I don't see how that would translate and I think that dude is already in a million different bands anyway. I thought the Buck Cherry guy would have been cool....but I guess they tried that too at one point. Then again, I always thought of that dude as a little bit of an Axl clone to some degree.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Soundgarden – Louder Than Love (1989)

Album number 2 from Seattle’s banshee-wailing riff behemoths was where it really all began. From the opening minutes of ‘Ugly Truth’ – awash with doom-y Sabbath riffs, Chris Cornell’s soaring vocals and Sonic Youth arrangements – it was clear that this was everything that Sunset Strip was not: raw, real and (crucially) vibrant. It’s disturbing, discordant, and devastatingly powerful:

You hide your eyes
But the ugly truth
Just loves to give it away
You gave yourself
If you were mine to give I might throw it away
You share but money can't give
What the truth takes away
Throw it away

‘Louder Than Love’ was the sort of hypnotic brew of menace and groove which Killing Joke evoked from a sparse sound. Indeed, this was metal smashing into the alternative soundscape. ‘Gun’ was Sabbath riffage melding into Rollins Band rage; ‘Full On Kevin’s Mom’ was pure punk debauchery leveled through an epic larynx; and ‘Get On The Snake’ – featuring one of the great unheralded rock riffs – sounds like a buzz-saw killing. Its a unique aesthetic, but one which can encapsulate variety. ‘No Wrong No Right’, for instance, is worlds away from the other tracks – creepy but perfect, it nonetheless fits with the whole. And on ‘Big Dumb Sex’, you sense a band almost tickling themselves to avoid becoming po-faced.

Drenched in epic riffs, sonorous, almost chanting guitar melodies and odd rhythms, almost 25 years later it still knocks you back. The rhythmic shuffle and crunch of ‘Hands All Over’ sees Cornell at his post-apocalyptic preacher best, screaming over a wave of Kim Thayil’s swirling melodies – where metal drives you to overkill, Thayil’s tortured lines were far more menacing. And the title track is a pure rock ‘n’ roll strut – not a preening, posing hair metal glam ‘n’ glitter strut, but a dark, nasty obsessive, draining fuck of a strut. It grips; and it kills.

Often overlooked by the more successful records that followed, ‘Louder Than Love’ may be the most important record Soundgarden ever released. Cobain’s Pixies worship and Pearl Jam’s Creedence emulation weren’t half as invigorating as this. Alongside Faith No More, Soundgarden reinvigorated heavy music in a way which perhaps only post-hardcore took to the next level, expressing adult emotions and an aesthetic which passed far beyond bravura. We’re yet to fully grasp their importance.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Earthrone 9 – Lo-Def(inition) Discord (1998)

British noise-mongers Earthrone 9 were doing ‘prog-metal’ long before the movement became prominent (it’s on the cusp of being passé right now). Before Dillinger Escape Plan’s fitfull riff switching; before Mastodon’s cavernous soundscapes; before Gojira’s tortured aural palette. What separates Earthrone 9 is that they did not – unlike Mastodon and their horde of copyists – follow the path of Neurosis. This was metal in alt.rock clothing, not hardcore’s – it was punchy, jarring and discordant where the latter bands are expansive, elemental and ethereal.

At times, Earthrone 9 sounded like Mike Patton’s wet-dream. The title-track is a groovy goliath, and more muscular Fugazi. ‘2:00:00’ – the most conventional song here – is macabre hardcore in the vein of Glassjaw or Refused; whilst ‘3rd ripple in (wove) stretches the soft/heavy dynamics of grunge to new distorted levels, walls of discordant guitars propelling the songs beyond the confines of usual structures. Even amidst the variety the aesthetic feels complete and unified. ‘ever you say’, for instance, is an ominous, drifting of lilting presence, a mantra laid over a pulsating bass line, world’s away from the Neanderthal pummel of ‘vitriolic hsf’. Few bands since Faith No More have been able to inhabit this many musical guises and yet remain so utterly and instantly distinct.

Back in the day, many thought this might be a ‘Faith No More’ moment – a band which turned heavy music on its heads. In truth, that was a much needed hope amidst the new metal hordes, and Earthrone 9 seemed to offer metal a way forward without needlessly looking back to the gallops and power chords of the ‘80s. But they were too ‘out there’ to steer the currents – a fact that they seemed to recognize on subsequent releases, which more palatable (and consequently duller). Metal’s current crop of disjointed chaos-welders owe their careers to this band, however. They were never an easy listen and it’s easy to become overwhelmed in the wash of reference points – but for all the ugliness, it’s truly inspiring and inspired stuff.

[binnie]

Orange Goblin – A Eulogy For The Damned

Hordes of sub-standard Kyuss copyists have often rendered stoner rock more about the jams than the songs. Not so here. Album number 7 from British groove-mongers Orange Goblin is their most consistent and focussed yet, and whilst they may be damned never to capture their phenomenal live presence on record, AEFTD is nonetheless evidence of a damn fine band in very good form. You can hear the Kyuss and Monster Magnet influences, but there’s a distinctly British vibe here, too – an earthiness and booziness to their sound which adds balls to the stoner swagger. The Motorhead-slamming-into-Sabbath approach to riffing renders the likes of ‘The Filthy & The Few’ and ‘Red Tide Rising’ feel like bar-room brawls. Indeed, the band are much better when free ‘n’ easy than when they play by the rules (for the latter witness ‘Stand For Something’), and the bluesy shuffle of ‘Save me From Myself’ shows a more lamenting side of Orange Goblin which is an often overlooked facet of their sound. There’s nothing here you’ve never heard before, but Orange Goblin kick arse like it’s the 1st day of summer.

[binnie]

Red Fang – Murder the Mountains

Red Fang are heavy in the same way that Deep Purple were heavy – a sheer bass-heavy, booming riff shitting presence of a sound. Comparisons are often made to Mastodon, and you can see why: the time-changes, the burly riffs and wilful avoidance of the staccato guitar crunch which typifies most metal. But Red Fang are more doom-driven and less complex, displaying a sound more akin to Baroness or High On Fire – the vibe here is more ’67-72 than Mastodon, more sun-cracked desert than outer-space eeriness. The sound is primitive, earthy and jammed-out in a room, a wall of noise built up of epic riffs and piercing harmonies. It’s gloriously sloppy stuff. ‘Malverde’ is a bottom-heavy, sun-cracked croon, whilst ‘Wines’ is Sabbath channelled through early Queens of The Stone Age, the way Wolfmother could have sounded if they could pen a hook. The pop sensibilities of ‘Hank Is Dead’ or ‘Dirt Wizard’ eschews the tirade of noodling so typical of stoner/post-rock in favour of hooks which act as a rudder to the component parts. It’s impressive, but it doesn’t feel the need to announce it.

If there’s a problem (or, rather a niggle) it’s precisely that this multifacetedness borders on the schizophrenic, an issue compounded by the presence of two vocalists – Maurice Bryan and Aaron Beam – who provide the songs which they sing on with very different textures. If the band focusses, however, and decides which part of the metal spectrum they wish to dominate, they might one day enter the big league. Worship the riff!

[binnie]

From the vaults: Face Down – Mindfield (1995)

The debut album from Sweden’s Face Down is something of a forgotten ‘90s classic. Hailed at the time as something of Scandanavian Machine Head, there’s really not that much similarity. Sounding like Motorhead with a crack pit delivery, the band’s style is indebted to thrash, but also the audio warfare of ‘Chaos AD’-era Sepultura and the industrial grind of Fear Factory and Prong – there’s certainly little of the gothic darkness which would later become so synonymous of the ‘Gothenburg Sound’.

‘Kill the Pain’ is the way that thrash could have sounded in the ‘90s if metal had not endured its painful Nu speed-bump – a sparse blast of hardcore induced and industrial fuelled mayhem. ‘Holy Rage’ could have been a Testament classic, but what impresses you most here is this band’s ability to weld Godlike heaviness to melody. These tunes are catchy – ‘Demon Seed’ and ‘Save Me, Kill Me’ are anthems that circumstances never let allowed to mature. Face Down’s story really is one of ‘they shoulda been huge’. Now they’re merely forgotten. Propelled by Joachin Carlsson’s huge wall of crunch, Face Down were a huge behemoth of a band – Marco Aro’s Hetfield roar vocals and spoken interldudes provide the perfect foil for those guitars, the post-dystopian preacher to the apocalyptic backdrop. Like Kilgore, Face Down delivered one of the most accomplished – and confident – debut metal records of all time, and then passed into oblivion (3 unheralded records followed). Playing it now then is bittersweet – but you’ll get caught up in the mosh!

[binnie]

Kylesa – Static Tensions

Album number 4 from Georgia titans Kylesa puts 4 decades of metal through a blender to deliver a sonic juice which is far more than the sum of its parts. One part Mastodon at a more elemental level, and two parts Kyuss on a much more aggressive plain, Klyesa tap into some form of primeval heaviness and cram it, kicking and screaming, into perfectly formed songs. Never letting complexity overwhelm hooks or melodies, their impact can only be described as colossal. ‘Scapegoat’ is a headbutt of a song which combines the Melvins’s crungy rumble with Sonic Youth’s alt.rock soundscapes; whilst ‘insomnia for months’ places fat, juicy stoner riffs over a rhythmic assault. Indeed, the rhythm section of Eric Hernandez and Javier Villagez shines throughout – never showy, their instinctual pummel and ability to turn on a dime turns the component parts of these songs into something special. Witness the eerie delicacy of ‘unknown awareness’, in which the contrast of light and shade pushes the sonic boundaries of this band into new territories and proves that they could be just as powerful in the realm of Neurosis-esque soundscapes as they can Blue Cheer driven full tilt rawk. The duel vocals of Philip Cope and Laura Pleasants only adds further textures to what is an important and invigorating record – heavy in a way that the proto metal of the late ‘60s was, this sounds timeless and limitless.

[binnie]

Revoker – Chaos of Forms

Holy shit! What a record! This is modern metal with a classic ethos, the best of both worlds if you will – you get all the technicality and downright aggression of 2011 played through the sheer fun and care-free abandon of 1985. There are no po-faces of staid angst here. You get blast beats and odd time signatures; but you also get a swirl of epic guitar solos – David Davison is metal’s best kept secret, an axe-wielding demon on a killing spree. Most importantly of all, you get songs. Great songs, delivered concisely and with focus. Where so much modern metal confuses length with grandeur, Revoker pen epics in 5 minutes. That’s talent.

The sheer muscularity of this record kills. ‘Harlot’ is pure crunch of riffage, whilst ‘Beloved Horrifier’ has a punky spark. Revoker are very much their own band – the groove of ‘Dissolution Ritual’ gives way to a demented intensity which owes little to the death metal or metalcore which rules today’s roost. Witness also the ‘Conjuring the Cataclysm’, which is the first death metal power ballad! The title track is a collection of riffs to take souls, a heavy body blow of a song with solos to stupefy, and – crucially – welding the beauty and the beast which lies at the heart of all great metal.

Purists will wish that they’d topped it all off with a ‘propper’ singer – the growls of Davidson and Anthony Buda are fine at delivering the aggro, but they seem curiously undynamic in the presence of such a rich musical backdrop. That being said, Revoker here deliver a steaming beast of a record which shows that metal in 2012 doesn’t have to be a race to indolent complexity – it can still take souls, too.

[binnie]

Screaming Trees – Last Words: Final Recordings

So here it is: the fruits of Seattle’s country-rockers’ ‘lost’ sessions of the winter of 1998-99. There’s something sombre about this process, and about its subsequent discovery, a sense that the rock world had realised that the Trees – their best kept secret – should have been bigger and better respected. Alongside Josh Homme, REM’s Peter Buck jams with them here, and uber-producer Jack Endino provides a crisp and understated mix which only enhances their drawl.

The sound has as much to do with Gram Parsons as it does Jimmy Page. Channelling the Flying Burito Brothers and the Byrds into some harder edges, this was rock ‘n’ roll from the world weary and grizzled rather than the strutting and pigeon-chested. Everything comes off Mark Lanegan cracked baritone, the sonic equivalent of a mangy puppy you can’t help but love. ‘Ash Gray Sunday’ is propelled by a floating shimmer of a guitar melody and a chorus hook which teases the song into life. Yet it’s followed by something altogether different and more challenging. ‘Door Into Summer’ is eerie, featuring almost Gregorian melodies and echoing a darker Afghan Wings. By the time you’ve encountered the outlaw blues of ‘Crawlspace’ and ‘Revelator’ you think ‘fuck Pearl Jam. Here’s the Crazy Horses on meth’. Even throwaway songs like ‘Anita Grey’ have a certain fizz to them.

More quiescent than the band’s earlier work – its not as rawking as ‘Uncle Anastesia’ or exemplas of the perfect harrowing of ‘Dusk’ or ‘Sweet Oblivion’ – but the same intense and cosy warmth seeps from these tunes. This is the sound of a gang of outlaws swapping stories and sipping whiskey – and these bad men will be missed.

[FORD]

I always have to laugh when I hear Screaming Trees called a "Seattle band". Those guys are from Ellensburg, for fucks sake. Two hours away.... and that's during the summer when you can drive over the mountains at a normal rate of speed.

The Conner brothers owned this great little record store in Ellensburg. Don't know if it's still there, as I haven't been over that way lately. Discovered it by accident, because my friend threw one of his shoes out a car window going over the mountain pass (he had a bad foot odor problem) and we get into Ellensburg searching for a shoe store. Or a Goodwill, where he always liked to shop anyway. And the Conners' record store just happened to be in the same strip mall.