Album Reviews

[binnie]

Ok, here's a space for you to let rip with your album reviews. We have some knowledgeable fans on this site, so we should set the standard high.

Albums could new release, old news, hidden gems, or black beauties. Post your views.

I've posted quite a few reviews at rothfans.com, which I'll re-post here. Everyone should feel free to post though, I don't want to claim any ownership in this thread.

Cheers


CLICK THIS LINK FOR A FULL INDEX OF REVIEWS

[binnie]

Thin Lizzy - Still Dangerous: Live at the Tower Theatre Philadelphia 1977

There's been a lot of hype around this release, with members of the classic Lizzy lineup claiming that this 'lost' recording is superior to the classic 'Live and Dangerous'. Well, it isn't. It is, however, a very, very fine live record: the performance of the band may well be on a par with 'L&D', with 'Soldier of Fortune', 'Jailbreak', 'Cowboy Song' and 'Massacre' crackling and bouncing out of the speakers ('Don't Believe a Word' is a little flat, however); and Lynott's smooth, unusual tones slowly draw you deeper and deeper into his tales of joy and woe. What hinders this from being a classic, however, is the absence of an electric atmosphere which used to be an essential part of live albums - what made 'No Sleep 'til Hammersmith', 'Metallic KO' and 'If You Want Blood' classics was not just the face melting recordings of their respective bands on fire, but the capturing of the atmosphere in the room at that time - those records ooze personality, and bottle up a moment. This one doesn't. Lizzy were an excellent band, and this is a damn fine record of a damn fine performance, but a couple of moves short of a pefect 10.

A much better recording that last year's glorified bootleg of the '75 tour (although with a far less interesting track listing), this will be an asset in any fan of 70s hard rock's collection.

[binnie]

Chris Cornell - Scream

You know when a toddler become frustrated with a jigsaw and frantically hammers together two pieces that aren't meant to join, ultimately resulting in a final product which resembles the picture on the box in the same creepy yet distant way that a lookalike resembles their celebrity? Well, that's sort of what's happened here, with Cornell's sombre lyrics and dark tones jarringly out of step with 'producer extraordinaire' Timbaland's up-beat hippoty-hoppety music. The result is a collage rather than a collaboration, and it falls short of satisfying in every way.

Now, I have no problem with artists experimenting. When Metallic released 'Load', I thought 'different, but cool'; when Megadeth released 'Cryptic Writings' I thought 'Dave's a Cat Steven's fan? Who'd of thought it? But these songs rule...' and when Halford released 'Two' I thought.....ok even I'm not that open minded! But for experimentation to work it has to be done with a clear goal in mind, and still has to spring from the same essence that makes that artist great. In Cornell's case, experimentation with electronic music would have been better executed in a darker mould, a la Nine Inch Nails. That would have been from the same place as 'Superunknown', 'Badmotorfinger' or that criminally underated 'Euphoria Mornings'.

Here though the hip hop experiment seems contrived. Cornell singing 'That bitch ain't a part of me' just feels like a man play acting, rather than pouring his soul out; and the meanderings which make up the music on 'Time' and 'Sweet Revenge' feel half-hearted and under-cooked. It's certainly not the case that there's no plus points here - despite the presence of Justin Timberlake (mercifully low in the mix), 'Take Me Alive' is a very interesting tune and the point where the collaboration of Timbaland and Cornell works best. Highs are painfully few and far between however - along with the mediocre rock-by-numbers of 'Carry On' last time out, it seems that what we are witnessing here is a frightening public midlife crisis.

Cornell still has an outstanding voice, but on the evidence here you'd never know that in the early 90s this man wrote songs by which all subsequent rock music would be judged. It's a cruel irony that the super-talented often set themselves a bar that they spend the rest of their lives failing to clear. Listening to this will lead to frantic head shaking, not banging.

[binnie]

Supersuckers - Get It Together

"I've been waitin' for a long time honey for the wrong side of the kiss...." (what a fuckin' lyric!)

The Supersuckers make albums that instantly make life's stresses seem like distant problems; a band that manages to be a good time rock n roll band without being entirely dispossable. You know exactly what you're going to get: tales of bad men and badder women, beer, brawls and broken hearts all blasted out through shit kickin' riffs and 4/4 rhythms - there is nothing contrived here, just real life in all its beautiful ugliness. This is what The Ramones would have sounded like if they'd been a bunch of good ol' boys, music to fight and fuck to, music that makes you tap your foot, shake your ass and grin the groans away. Highlights include the punchy rhythm of 'Listen Up', the Lizzy-esque harmony of 'Something Good For You', the comic bravado of 'I'm a Fucking Genius', and the sombre blues of 'What It Takes' and 'Paid', which is good time rock played by those who have lived the bad times and the good. This is as good as The Supersuckers have sounded in a decade - may be not the heights the reached with 'The Evil Powers of Rock n Roll' or 'The Sacreligious Sounds of the Supersuckers', but a damn good spin nonetheless. Great songs, clever lyrics and a sense of humour - what more do you want from a rock record?

[binnie]

Cancer Bats - Hail Destroyer

Put simply, this is a post-hardcore record that isn't boring. In times when it seems every band in this genre writes songs that exist purely for the mid-section breakdown, that is a mighty fine achievement, and a refreshing one. This band don't even have generic on the horizon: the greasy riff to 'Bastard's Waltz' deserves an king sized award; and the unnerving and unhinged fury of 'Sorceress' is about as purely emotional as music can get. All great music has a sense of melody, and an incessantly attractive rhythm, and this group understands that - unlike so many other bands of this ilk, each song on this record stands unique from the others but all contain the stamp of character that runs throughout the album. From the classic metal riffery of the title track and 'Lucifer's Rocking Chair', to the old-skool hardcore of 'Harem of Scorpions' and 'Let It Pour' the listener is presented with a melting pot of everything that has been great about extreme music for the past 25 years. The vocals aren't cookie monster, but are barked with vitriol in a style that's reminiscent of the criminally underated 90s band Strife, and are a perfect vehicle for lyrics which paint in various shades of anger, rage and despair. Closing with the souring 'Zed's Dead Baby', this is a band that feels it and means it - if they keep putting out discs like this, they may very well become legends. Not for the faint hearted, but pure catharsis on plastic. My neck hurts, I'm sweating, and my ears ache, but damn it feels good.

[binnie]

Pain - Cynic Paradise

This is a side project from Peter Tagtgren, lead singer/guitar player in death metal band Hypocrisy and producer/editor of Dimmu Borgia, Celtic Frost and Immortal. But this ain't death metal. If you had to label it, 'Anthemic Industrial' would be nearer the mark, the record is stamped with a sonic boom nearer to Strapping Young Lad (the Devin Townsend influence is very evident), the sombre despair of early Nine Inch Nails, and the twisted concotion of sounds displayed by Ministry and Misery Loves Co. The quality of the songs marks this out as much, much more than a whim, the fate of many side projects. There is so much to love here: the solomn lament of 'No-one Knows', the riff-crushing despair of 'Feed Us', and the frankly schizophrenic opener, 'I'm Going In' are just a few of the highlights. Throughout, scuzzy guitars are at the forefront of a sound lifted by choral sections and keyboards which compliment rather than overwhelm the grungy sound, amplifying the massive hooks in the choruses to make the songs truly anthemic. Make no mistake, like Trent Reznor Tagtgren knows how to weld his dark poetry with pop senibilities - these songs stick in your head. This is quite a unique talent - dark yet uplifting, intense yet catchy.

[binnie]

The Answer - Everyday Demons.

Following opening slots of AC/DC and Aerosmith, there has been a lot of hype around this Irish band, with many hailing them as the successors of the classic rock titans like Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Thin Lizzy, and Humble Pie. Well, they aren't. To be great, you have to be looking forward and strive for originality. The Answer seek to do neither.

Not that that's a bad thing - on their debut record, the mix mash of 70s influences hadn't been fully absorbed, and the listener found themselves thinking 'so this one's the AC/DC song, this one's the Bad Company song.....' as each successive track displayed a different style and influence. On the softmore effort, however, the band have welded all of these influences into a unique stlye that is at once timeless and their own. The result is a damn fine record which is far more than the sum of its parts. Fully in the 70s blues-rock mold, but with songs perfectly crafted - there is very little fat here - the majority of songs have every drip of potential squeezed out of them. Opener 'Demon Eyes' is a full tilt smasher, all hooks, chord progressions and blues riffs asunder; 'Why'd You Change Your Mind' alternates from swamp blues to metallic thunk; 'Too Far Gone' boasts a kick in the teeth riff and climaxes as an epic of bombastful proportions; and 'Walkin' Mat', with its switch-scratch beat, is true sonic shamonry. At it's best, you'll sit their grinning like a fat kid with a birthday cake.

It's not all killer, however. The albums' two softer moments display lazziness: 'Pride' is one idea rotated, and 'Comfort Zone' is formlaic and unimaginative - truly out of character here. But when faced with such energy and sheen it's churlish to focus on negatives. Guitarist Paul Mahon is a blues slinger straight out of the Perry/Slash school of 'belt em out' solos and is more subdued here than on the debut record - he does his job, taking the song up a notch but never meandering needlessly. The real star is singer Cormac Nelson - a soulful screacher who delivers a master class in intonation on 'Too Far Gone' and 'Why'd You Change Your Mind', and croons his way through the quieter moments. Like all great singers, he projects such character that you want to listen to the tired blues tales of bad men, badder women and wild nights. That's talent.

One day they might deliver a truly great record - this will more than do in the meantime. A record to crank in your car all summer.

[binnie]

The Bronx - The Bronx

Fact: The Bronx are better than your band. No question, there will be no competition. This is a band that can makes epic 2 and a half minute songs - such is their leanness - each one of which takes the listener on a journey that leaves a keenly felt impression. This is their thrid studio release, and their third eponymous record. Like earlier records, all of the great parts of punk and hardcore from the past three decades are blended together and smoothed out with the inestimable cool of rock 'n' roll and rolled together into one big clusterfuck - a giant, strangley attractive Frankenstein of a band that make the next 10 records you hear sound frankly irrelevant. Yes, that good. The intensity - most keenly displayed on 'Digital Leash' - is staggering, and I had to check a couple that they weren't actually playing this live in the room.

It all starts with the greasy chunk that forms the riff to 'Knifeman', a song which epitimozes the album - for this is an ALBUM, not a collection of songs, there is vision and purpose here - huge chorus, a menacing groove, swagger, balls and metallic sheen all undercut with huge slabs of rumbling bass. This time the vocals are not all scream and bark, but fall somewhere between croon and shout, warmth and anger. The precise snap of 'Enemy Mind' is dazzling; 'Six Days a Week' and 'Pleasure Seekers' are anthems of aggressive dispossesion; and 'Ship High in Transit' has an instantly likeable swagger and scowl.

The lyrics defy cliche: told with candidness, each personal tale alternates between edifying and disturbing whilst always been instantly poigniant. Undoubtedly too angry for some listeners, you have to be in the mood for this band - but when the time is right, by God is it worth it. Destined never to be a household name, but whose impact will be felt for decades to come. Just when you thought hardcore couldn't get any more generic, a band produces three records of this calibre. Outstanding.

[binnie]

AC/DC - Black Ice

Like every album since 1981's 'For Those About To Rock....', this is billed as 'the best AC/DC album since Back In Black'. And you fall for it every time. You buy into the hype, go to the record store all excited, grab the CD, rush home, put it on the stereo and .............try and mask your disappointment. You find yourself saying things like 'that bass is really tight', 'ooooo, the snare sounds good there' or - if your really deep in self denial - 'that's like an out-take from Powerage'. Eventually, however, you give up, and quickly forget about most of the songs on the new album, safe in the knowledge that 'DC will only play one of them on tour before rolling out the same setlist from the last 20 years.

And, for the most part, it's the same this time. Opener 'Rock 'n' Roll Train' is so AC/DC-by-numbers that it sounds like a tribute band that has decided to write it's own material - plodding, ponderous and flabby as it rotates the same idea over and over, it seems to go on forever. It sets a tone for the rest of this disk, and it is a trap that a lot of older bands fall into once they can no longer pull the trigger - thinking that quantity will be a ready substitute for quality. Indeed, there are 15 songs here. FIFTEEN. We are treated to every average ditty they had on file in what amounts too a gallery of mediocrity: 'Wheels' and 'Skies on Fire' are instantly forgettable, and 'She Likes Rock 'n' Roll' almost laughably falls flat on its face in an attempt to be anthemic.

Indeed, it's only when the band stretch themselves that we get some gems. The slowed down 'Decibel' has a great hook and is seductively catchy; the bluesy 'Stormy Day' is a thriller, displaying Jonson's best melody which beautifully compliments the slide guitar; and the soft/heavy switch in 'Rock 'N' Roll Dream' works a treat. Had such boldness been injected into the other tunes, this album would have made for more interesting listening.

The lyrics are as bad as any set the band have produced after Bon's notepad ran dry around 'Flick of the Switch' - most criminal are 'Big Jack', and it's when cringing through this number that you realize just how essential Scott's wit was to this band's heyday. History has taugh us though that expecting subtlety and tease in latter day DC's lyrics is like waiting for Kevin Costner to make a good movie. But Brian Jonson is on good form - his range is higher than on any record since 'Razor's Edge' and his unmistakable charisma is present throughout - easily the record's saving grace.

Sadly, the same cannot be said of the guitars, which sound oddly flat. No-one had a more distinctive tone than Angus, but it's barely present here. The crunch of 'Powerage', 'Let There Be Rock' or even 'Flick of The Switch' seem a life time away. The bluesier tones of 2000's 'Stiff Upper Lip' are abandoned for a thinner, pastier sound which seems to rob the band of much of their undeniable power. Criticism must be levelled at knob twiddler Brendan O Brien who seems to do his best work with more introspective, darker bands - when handling out and out rockers, however, he leaves them sounding somewhat emaciated.

And yet, for all of its flaws you can't help but like this record. That's the magic of AC/DC - even on a poor showing they leave you with a smile. That's surely the only reason that they can still sell millions of records after howler after howler of a record. Any other band couldn't get away with this. But then, no other band has the charisma of AC/DC.

[binnie]

Bible of The Devil - Freedom Metal

An album of two halves this one. The first half is as METAL as it gets. It's like a trip back to 1984: a singer who can barely carry a tune (the wail on 'Hijak the Night' is laughable), Accept-like riffage that chuggs with all the regularity of an alcoholic during happy hour, duel guitar 'Hey Mom, watch this!' solos, anthemic choruses, and lyrics that could be lifted straight out of a file labelled 'generic' - you say cliche, they say classic. It's all tried and tested, and makes for warm listening, even if on 'Greek Fire' formulaic passes into stale. Given the sound of the drums, an educated guess would be that this was recorded on a shoe string budget, but it just doesn't matter. This is the type of band that the unitiated just don't get, the kind of band that are larger-than-life comic book villians. It doesn't set the world alite, but you can't help but smile and throw the horns. METAAAAAAAAAAL!

The second half is a wholly different beast: on songs like 'Ol Girl' the band manages to form its own sound, which stays true that blue-collar metal they so clearly adore, but adds southern groove and flavours - the vibe is looser, and yet more epic. We are far from generic-town here: 'Heat Feeler' is no cheesy soft moment but an upbeat stoll through Skynrdsville that climaxes as a gargantuan epic. The Thin Lizzy harmonies add subtely, the lyrics become more adventurous, and the band opens up a little with it's time changes. It sounds like Maiden jamming with The Hold Steady - all bravado and cool blasted out as the day bleeds into night. If they have more tunes like this, the future would be promising; if not, well, there's always those devil horns!

Moments of brilliance admist the solid if not spectacular.

[binnie]

Mastodon - Crack the Skye

There are some albums where you remember the exact moment when you first heard them: 'Master of Puppets', 'Sabbath Bloody Sabbath', 'Powerslave', 'Physical Graffiti', 'Rocks', 'Appetite for Destruction', 'Into the Pandemonium', 'Roots', 'Vulgar Display of Power', 'The Shape of Punk To Come'......for all their differences they all have something in common - they herald a raising of the bar. This is one of those records.

Album opener 'Oblivion' begins unobstrusively, a slow tingling 'Vol.4'-esque riff inviting the listener in to what soon emerges as everything we have come to expect from Mastodon: the odd, unexpected time-changes; de-tuned riffage; moody chord progressions; duel guitar harmonies which are the melancholic bastard children of Thin Lizzy; and swirls of drums which drive each track with the carefree abandon of a cyclone, rather than the rigid, bullet speed track-train assault that is the choice of most modern metal bands. But you also notice the differences this time out. The vocals are cleaner, more audible and higher in the mix, and the unassuming sense of meoldy that this band has always possessed is much more to the forefront - this song's haunting hook is irrepressible. In typical Mastodon style, wave after wave of music wash over the listener in an experience which is simultaneously claustrophobic and euphoric. It's a presage of what's to come.

The faster, frantic boom of 'Divination' ups the pace, snarling vocals and serene melodies mixing in a disturbing combination, as huge chorus and psychotic bulldozing riffs compete for the ear's attention. 'Quintessence' is a swirl of music, alteranting between the loose jazz of the verse and fuzzy punk fury of the chorus - imagine the Mars Volta in a bar fight. But it's on 'The Czar' that your jaw really drops. All 11 minutes of it. The sombre, brooding, dream-like opening section giving birth to a series of HUGE riffs and drum bombardments - a collage of musical parts which sounds gargantuan, and melodrama of operatic stature. This is the epic of Maiden powered by the gutteral bass pummeling of early Kyuss. It's the sheer quantity of the quality that baffles - like '....And Justice For All' Metallica, the songs contain riffs that most bands would give their left nuts for buried amongst other riffs of the same calibre.

'Ghost of Karelia' begins with eastern harmonies and is interspersed with an eerie melody which swarms throughout the song; in complete contrast, the title track is all Unsane-eque riff chugg, a bowl lossening begining giving way to a hypnotic mid-section made up of multiple interwoven guitar melodies. This is complex without being overwhelming - the sense of song always being placed before any desire toward acclaim and viruosity. Closing epic 'The Last Baron' is a myriad of riffs and time changes, the most pedal to the metal song here - snapping into a spasmodic prog-rock masterpiece around the 8:15 mark, it closes with soaring, macabre guitar lines which complete a truly dazzling 50 minute musical journey.

This band is as much prog as it is metal, as much King Crimson as Iron Maiden. The most obvious comparison in style would be Neurosis, but Mastodon have far more groove about them. Some will undoubtedly find Brendon O'Brein's production have robbed the band of some of the 'metal' evidence on previous records 'Leviathon' and 'Blood Mountain': the sound is layered, and much of the guitar crunch and thudding drums is buried - but this record is still as heavy as it is epic. Not a Friday night party album by any means, like most of the current crop of meta elite - Opeth, Tool, Kylessa, Lamb Of God - this band needs to be digested.

The decision to persevere is a wise one. If I were a betting man, I'd stake my savings on this record being talked about in lofty tones 20 years from now - and you will still get the warm glowing buzz of reminiscence in your guts when you remember the first time you heard it.

[binnie]

From the Vault: Skid Row - Subhuman Race (1995)

This record got panned when it came out, largely because it heralded a change in direction to a darker sound and one which largely avoided the hysterionics of earlier releases - what record companies sell as 'mature'. But it has improved with age to the ears of this listener: the heavier, post-grunge stomp of the meatier material - perfectly characterized on opener 'My Enemy', with its greasy riff and ominous vocal - are complimented with the delicately eerie softer numbers, like agonized lament 'Breakin' Down.'

Producer Bob Rock has a habit of changing bands, and he certainly did so here: Sebastian Bach sings in a much lower key than on testosterone fuelled previous effort 'Subhuman Race' (1991), leaving his screams to compliment rather than dominate songs; and the guitar pyro-technics of Dave 'Snake' Sabu and Scotti Hill, whilst still evident, are curtailed in favour of the whole. The sound is fuller and bass heavy, adding to the record's brooding quality. 'Frozen' is a mesh of twisted riff and vocal torment; the buzzing bass of 'Beat Yourself Blind' is a kick in the face, a more twisted, Badmotorfinger-era Soundgarden-esque take on 'Slave to the Grind'; and 'Medicine Jar' is a scuzzy rocker, the dream of sunset strip turned into a nightmare. But it's the more melodic moments where the band surprise most - despite being formulaicly soft-heavy-soft-heavy 'Into Another' is beautiful and heartfelt, and Eileen is an alt-kilter melancholic tune unlike anything the band had done before which culminates in a monstrous riff.

It would all end for Bach-era Skid Row after this, and for many 'Subhuman Race' was an odd note for the metallic titans to exit on. But almost 15 years on the strength of these songs is impressive. Every home should have one.

[binnie]

Heaven & Hell - The Devil You Know

After the three storming new tunes on the 'Black Sabbath: Best of the Dio years' there's quite a bit on anticipation about this. Is it any good? That's all you want to know, right? Well, it certainly is.

Is it 'Heaven & Hell' or 'Mob Rules'? No, but it was never going to be. It is considerably stronger than the patchy 'Dehumanizer' (1992) however, and the quality is more consistent throughout. From the slow boom of opener 'Atom & Evil' the tone is set - a Dinosaur heavy riff kicks in at Dinosaur pace, and their is a void of space between Iommi and Appice which makes the band sound cavenous. It's more personality than craft, however - if any other band were to cut this tune it would sound distinctly average, the holes would be all too clear, but the charisma and black sheen of Sabbath add a charm that you can't teach.

Indeed, at its best on the Neon Knights style numbers like 'Neverwhere' and 'Eat the Cannibals' this record manages to recapture some of unique magic that separated them from Ozzy-era Sabbath: both are pacier and built around rolling-thunder riffs, with 'Eat....' souding thrashier, like Motorhead covering classic Sabbath. What it impresses most is the powerful ease with which Dio soars over the rumbling bass monster behind him. Outstanding. First single 'Bible Black' also stands out - Iommi's guitar trading off Dio's croon at the opening before opening up into a beast of a song, the sort of epic that metal's bread and butter 25 years ago but which have long since gone from view.

It's not all shots of glory, however. At times the record plods and needs an injection of dynamism - I can't help thinking that the employment of the more creative Bill Ward on drums would have helped here, some of his ingenuity could have livened up 'Breaking Into Heaven' and 'Rock n Roll Angel', and on some of the songs a little self-editing might have helped - on the slower tunes, less is often more.

But it would be churlish to end on a critical note for finally we are presented with a 'reunion' that has produced new music worth owning. The band are alive and kicking, and all performances are strong (Iommi's riff on 'Follow the Tears' re-defines 'heavy'.) But it's Dio who steels the show, making the like of 'Double The Pain' and 'Turn the Screw' the epics only he could. Not too sure that it lives up to the promise of 'The Devil Cried', 'Shadow Of the Wind' and 'Ear In The Wall' gave us two years ago, but its close. Real close.

[binnie]

Duff McKagan's Loaded - 'Sick'.

A record that borders on the side of solid rather than spectacular, but one which all rockers will undoubtedly enjoy. At it's beating heart this is a punk rock band - taut guitars, punchy drums and minimalist vocals. Duff's voice is stella here - he's no long the Ringo that Guns 'N' Roses used to let sing - and is the attitude which drives the band. The melodies of 'Flatline' could have helped out the 1st Velvet Revolver album greatly, the punk-funk of 'Sleaze Factory' brought a wry grin to the face of this reviewer, and the 70s Brit-punk of 'The Slide' blows out of the speakers, complete with gang backing vocals. As for the album's softer moments, the alt-rock drawl of 'Mother's Day' works well, but the stab at quirkiness on 'Blind Date Girl' falls on its face. Ironically, however, the album's biggest shortcoming is its length - there is no need for 13 songs here, and the removal of ABC rock like 'Transluscent' and the cliche-driven AOR of 'IOU' would have left the band going with their A game. That being said, this a very enjoyable crank-in-your-car-on-a-summer's-day album.

[binnie]

Maylene & The Sons Of Disaster - III

From the instant you hear the banjo which opens this record, you know it's indebted to the South. Unlike the slew of current bands peddling re-invigorated Southern rawk - led by the very capably but not particuarly exciting Black Stone Cherry - this isn't a spicing up of the old recipe. Whilst the intonations of this record - the blues tinged guitar tones, the imagery and reference points in the lyrics - is painted with the vocabulary of the past, the whole thing is contructed on a thoroughly modern foundation, with time signatures more indebted to post-hardcore than Skynrd, and vocals which, whilst not 'screamo', are barked rather than crooned. Managing to couple anger and melody effectively, this band sounds like bastard offspring of Molly Hatchet and a pit-bull - what really oozes out of the speakers though is not just the songwriting talent on display here, but the passion and sincerity of the delivery. This band means it.

Much more full-throttle than previous outing ('II' in 2007), this intensity is staggering but fails to showcase the full range of the bands palet. The ball-breaking swagger of 'No Good Son' and slashing-scuzz guitar of 'Harvest Moon Hanging' best exhibit the group in mosh-making mode, whilst the thick groove of 'Last Train Coming' has a real swing to its heaviness. But it's not merely indolent rage - the ease with which Maylene switches from the brutal verse of 'Setting Scores By Burning Bridges' to its anthemitcally catchy chorus shows them to have made the most of their musical heritage, and their ability to sound epic in four minutes on 'Step Up (I'm On It)' is truly impressive.

It's not all killer though. The stab at sentimentality on 'Listen Close' - completely with kitsch 80s chorus harmony - sounds uncharaterisically contrived, and the switch from Neil Young musings to brutal modern metal in 'Oh Lonely Grave' is the one point at which the group's typical welding of old-skool and new falls apart at the seems. But this is a small price to pay for an album which comes sandwiched between the rootsy beauty of instrumental 'The End Is Here...' with the sonic grandeur of 'Waiting on My Deathbed'.