Album Reviews

[ashstralia]

Hey bin, one of my students learned a 'bury tomorrow' song today. Honourable reign or something? Sounded a lot like parkway drive's 'carrion'. What do you think?

[binnie]

The new 'Bury Tomorrow' record is on my 'to review' list

They are very good. Predicatable, certainly (what metalcore isn't?) but full of piss 'n' vinegar (and songs, which is the most important thing...)

[ashstralia]

I should've made 'a lot'


A LOT.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Thin Lizzy – Thunder & Lightning (1983)

Conventional wisdom suggests that ’75-’79 was the golden period for Thin Lizzy. It is certainly true that the Downey-Gorham-Lynott-Robertson lineup made a cluster of monumental records in the mid-70s, and that the Gary Moore powered ‘Black Rose’ is a stone cold classic; and it is also true that although chronically overlooked, the albums produced in the early ‘80s were not quite as sizzling as their earlier material. But ‘Thunder & Lightning’ – Lizzy’s last and final record – was an absolute belter. In many ways a departure from the band’s traditional sound – more metallic than hard rock, and less dependent on the trademark duel guitar harmonies – this was a record filled with as much piss ‘n’ vinegar as any of the younger metal acts could offer. The title track says it all. The heaviest Lizzy ever got, its Motorhead-esque gusto is drenched in John Sykes’s guitar histronics and sounds like the bar-room brawl it narrates. It also announces that this was a different Lizzy. Where Gorham and Robertson had played off each other so well, Sykes seems to want to overpower his fellow axeman – this leads to some epic guitar duels, but Sykes is more bluster than blues, which creates a sound more pyrotechnic than had been typical of previous efforts. As much is gained as lost, however: less finely crafted and statuesque than of old, this was Lizzy raucous and energised.

Of course, that this was yet another great Thin Lizzy record should hardly surprise us. Don’t over-complicate it, the key to their success was as simple as it is impossible to replicate: great songs. Where most ‘70s bands dalliances with ‘80s electronica produced results that were melodramatic and stale, Lynott’s incorporation of them into Gaellic ballad ‘The Sun Goes Down’ is complementary and atmospheric. The metallic thunder of ‘Cold Sweat’ taps us straight into Lynott’s genius – a rock god who never forgot what it was like to be an everyman, its tale of gambling it all on the gee-gees is scintillating, and crackles with tension and empathy. ‘Some Day She’s Going To Hit Back’ is an opera in 4 minutes, ‘Baby Please Don’t Go’ is a lost classic effortless in its brilliance, and ‘This Is The One’ is propelled by a sensational hook which drips with Lynott’s ability to convey yearning like no one else. Swinging and swaying, breathing and pulsating, these are songs which drenched in the hard times and laughter which pepper the march of all of our lives. They deserve to be as much a part of hard rock’s canon as anything else credited to Lynott.

Furious and fiery, this is the sound of a band who knew it was over and wanted to go out with a glorious bang. The great’s always have one last fight in ‘em……

[katina]

Ministry – Relapse

It’s always hard to hear once great bands getting old, those who were once innovators treading water. Ministry – alongside or (if we’re being honest) slightly before NIN – paved the way for industrial metal and, more importantly, delivered up some truly classic and EXCITING music in the late ‘80s and (most of) the ‘90s. ‘Relapse’ – the title is a beautifully sick joke on Al Jourgensen’s own past and recent promise that the band were no more – is the first Ministry record since 2007. It is, typically, a heavy record which paints anger in shades far more colourful than metal’s steel-grey: keyboards, samples, programming and other audio warfare complement the guitars, offsetting and unnerving throughout. But in many places it feel rushed and under-developed – strong riffs are not surrounded by the music to maximise their impact and, for all their anger, the lyrics don’t contain the wit, or the melodic prowess, to match Jourgensen’s best work. At their best Ministry were dark and poetic, harrowing but inspiring – ‘Relapse’ only shows us the tunnel, not the light.

But it is no disaster. The presence of Prong’s Tommy Victor ensures that the guitars a furious throughout, and the title track is the aural equivalent of sticking your head in a giant food blender. Elsewhere ‘Blackout’ – an industrial take on country rock – is an evil-grinning genius of a song, and ‘Kleptocracy’ and ’99 Percenters’ serve up anthems of FTW proportions. A particularly frantic cover of S.O.D’s ‘United Forces’ also adds plenty of bite but it – alongside ‘Ghouldiggers’ rant at the music industry – serve to make odd additions to what is a political album at heart.

Given Jourgensen’s near death experience in 2010 (due to a ruptured ulcer) any work we get from him is a bonus and should serve to remind fans of heavy music how damn lucky we have been to count him as one of us for 25 years – like Trent Reznor, like Motorhead, and like Killing Joke, Ministry will leave a void which no-one can fill when they finally are no more. ‘Relapse’ will not be a record for which they are remembered. But it contains moments of sonic terrorism which hint at former glories and remind us why this band ripped the world a new one in the first place.

Great words about Ministry and Al Jourgensen . My favourite Ministry album is Twiched from 1986.
Talking about the origins of industrial metal music, I would like to mention Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson R.I.P.
He was a commercial designer, photographer, former member of the influential British design agency Hipgnosis, a director of hundreds of television commercials and videos for artists like Peter Gabriel, Pink Floyd, Nine Inch Nails, Ministry, he directed the video Over the Shoulder from Twiched. Peter Christopherson was and original and influential musician who delighted in subversion.

He was the founding member of Throbbing Gristle band back in the ´70, a English industrial, avant-gard music and visual arts group.
Throbbing Gristle created the label Industrial Records in 1976 for self-releases and signed other groups and artists giving the name to the industrial music genre.
Before the first sampler was available in U.K. he played a custom-made for him keyboard-triggered sampler.
He had a huge career, many musicals proyects always pushing at taboos.

[binnie]

I do love Throbbing Gristle.

I think you've just sorted out my playlist for tomorrow Katina

[katina]

I do love Throbbing Gristle.

I think you've just sorted out my playlist for tomorrow Katina

I´m glad Throbbing Gristle were ahead of their time, true industrial pioneers.

[binnie]

Feed The Rhino – The Burning Sons

Boystrous British heavyweights Feed The Rhino up their game considerably on album number 2. Delivering punchy, concise burst of post-hardcore with eyes firmly fixed on the incendiary rather than the introspective, this is a raucous affair which steers clear of the affectations which belie many bands in this sub-genre. Realizing that a clutch of killer riffs is enough to be captivating, FTR never drown their songs in a mosaic of time-changes and schizophrenic poly-rhythms – rather, the emphasis is on groove and melodies. But don’t let that fool you into thinking that they’re ‘lighter’ than most. ‘Flood The System’ injects Fugazi-esque atmospherics into its hulking grooves, and stoner elements into its angular post-hardcore; the title-track has the floating presence of a more muscular Thursday; ‘Tides’ features a hulking fuck of a riff; whilst ‘Nothing Lost’ pastes whoosing guitar melodies over a captivating wall of sound and tops it all off with an anthemic hook. It’s impressive, crisply delivered stuff, and sees the band deliver a series of songs more distinctive than their debut. Indeed, when they expand outside the confines of metal – witness ‘Razor’, an eerie lament which is both tender and haunting – they soar into realms of the genuinely unique. Taking the confidence to expand their sound in similar ways could see them move into the leading pack of British metal (quite an accolade amidst the current generation).

It’s not a flawless display by any means: ‘Left For Ruin’ is generic; ‘Fountain’ is a stab at political critique which Gallows do so much better; and, lyrically, the whole album is hyperbolic expressions of angst and anger which is hard to connect with because no human being outside of a Kafka novel exists perpetually on the tortured end of the emotive spectrum. Nevertheless, ‘The Burning Sons’ is a killer record which can trade punches with the best records in a year of almost weekly highlights – you fear that they may float under the radar, and it would be a real shame if they were to wimper rather than burn.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Sylosis – Conclusion Of An Age (2008)

Britain’s Sylosis are – without question – one of modern metal’s most promising bands. Delivering classic thrash metal through contemporary stylings, theirs is a sound redolent with the gothic grandeur of the Gothenburg sound, instantaneous power of metalcore and the sheer electrifying wizardry of technical thrash. Grandiose, certainly; but the emphasis is certainly on form and songwriting craft. This – their debut – was the sound of a bunch of ultra-talented musicians finding their own style. ‘Reflection Through Fire’ sounds like ‘Rust In Piece’ era Megadeth’s more contempoary brother, whilst the title track is the heritage of thrash metal (making references to Nuclear Assault and Kreator) molded into a genuinely unique sound, and ‘Swallow The World’ and ‘The Blackest Skyline’ is as good as anything the US or Scandanavia can offer – that both are not genuine modern metal anthems is a travesty. ‘Teras’ and ‘Withered’ are precise displays of power, the old skool feel of Forbidden and Dark Angel in progressive and ultra-aggressive forms.

Stand-out performances from vocalist Jamie Graham – who roars and sings as the music necessitates – and guitar God Josh Middleton – who can riff and shred with the best of them – ensure than ‘Conclusion Of An Age’ is a sheer sonic joy. Sylosis’s problem is an embarrassment of riches: both this and sophmore record ‘Edge Of The Earth’ featured too much music, losing the quality amidst of barrage of intricate, scabrous and battering ram metal. It’s a nice problem to have, and should Sylosis one day work with a world class producer you can bet your mother’s life on them delivering a bollock-crushing metal classic.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Saint Vitus – Saint Vitus (1984)

Put simply, this is one of the most important heavy records ever made. Saint Vitus were so out of tune with their own time it borders on the comical: lo-fi in an age in which hyperbole was as necessary as a blond front-man; under-produced in an age of reverb over-indulgence; and dirty, foul, and stinkingly heavy Sabbath worshippers in an age in which peroxide and leopard print ruled the roost. More late ‘60s than mid-‘80s, Saint Vitus conjured up an era of Blue Cheer and MC5, a proto-metal maelstrom with more than a whiff of The Doors’s claustrophic melancholly – and the irony is, of course, that their music has stood the test of time where their peers now seem like a nasty smell from metal’s past. Listening to this record now, it is the complete absence of any sense of artifice or contrivance which strikes you most – that an album delivered with an almost ambivalent sense of ambition would go on to influence so many doom bands, stoner bands, and even post-punk bands is a staggering achievement. And it all comes from a sense of the elemental. What Dave Chandler and co. did was to take the blueprint of ‘Masters Of Reality’-era Sabbath back to its most basic components before re-forging it, crudely, into jet-black slabs of metal.

The title-track is propelled by a riff which sounds like a hovercraft passing through the bowels of hell; whilst ‘White Magic/ Black Magic’ is so good it has the familiarity of an old friend even on the first listen. Its sparse and spartan stuff, and those who cannot lock into its lethargic groove will find themselves meandering in a swamp of riffs – but for those who can, the likes of ‘Burial At Sea’ – an odyessy in 8 minutes – are almost overwhelmingly powerful. Expansive, crude and often introspective, this was the sort of magic record which was perfect because of the imperfections and limitations of the musicians who made it. There is an eerie presence in the music which you cannot quite explain or quantify – existing outside the component parts, that presence can only come from a performance which is so gloriously uncomplicated and convincing precisely because it is not oversold.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Mercyful Fate – Don’t Break The Oath (1984)

Mercyful Fate’s second album was a more slick affair than their debut: the production was sharper, tighter and more crisp, and the dynamics of the songs were simpler, the melodies were neater and more prominent, and the presence of Priest was more pronounced than before. But it’s still mental. Batshit, fruit-loop, talking to trees crazy. Even for the ‘80s this was OTT. Packing more killer riffs than Satan, with arrangements as big as Wagner, and a vision of cinematic scope here the bass gallops, riffs cut all asunder, guitars duel and vocal lines fall into one another – it’s as though the band members were competing with one another to see who could be the most outlandish.

King Diamond’s vocals have always been an acquired taste – Halford-on-hellium meets vaudeville villain, his ‘distinctive’ approach is domineering throughout. But it is the guitars that own the show. Along with Glen Tipton and Wolf Hoffman, Michael Denner completes a triumvirate of chronically under-heralded metal axemen. Some of the riffs here deserve to be better known (the opening to ‘Desecration Of Souls’, ‘Dangerous Meeting’ and ‘Welcome Princess of Hell’ jump to mind) and the solos are ripping burst of dark energy. ‘Gypsy’ is pure Dio-esque brilliance, whilst ‘Night Of The Unborn’ perfectly balances Maiden grandeur with Priest’s nack for the anthem and ‘Nightmare’ twists and turns like a tortured soul trying to escape a rotting corpse. It’s epic, biblical and manichal stuff. You cannot underestimate how crucial Mercyful Fate’s first two records were for metal. The multi-tempo, multi-section, duel-guitar epics like ‘A Dangerous Meeting’ and the title-track are part of the root base for much of the Black Metal and progressive metal that followed, and in that sense this band are as important as the Big 4 or Celtic Frost in metal’s evolution. Had they held it together for longer, perhaps they would now be heralded as part of metal’s mainstream rather than viewed as a noble tributary.

Since 1984 metal has certainly become more complex, more accomplished and much, much heavier – but I defy anyone to find an example of it which is more FUN!!

[binnie]

Baroness – Yellow & Green

They should have called this album ‘Death Wish’: in a world as rigidly conservative as metal, making an album which veers away from the heavier end of the rock spectrum is a bold move bound to garner a backlash of ‘sell out’ chants. In the case of Georgia’s (former) sludge kings, that is a ludicrous accusation: not only is this a double album – hardly a by-word for chart infiltration – it is one made up of meandering spacey rock songs. This is the evolution of an incredibly talented band through a myriad of genres rather than a calculated attempt to flog records: whatever your view on their changing sound, don’t believe for one minute that it isn’t sincere. ‘Yellow & Green’ continues the band’s colour-coded aesthetic: where debut ‘Red’ was a slab of pummelling, sludgey doom metal; and sophmore release ‘Blue’ was a maelstrom of progressive metal extremity of dazzling and cascading brilliance, here we get warmer hues and softer tones as Baroness meanders beyond the grizzled world of devil horns into altogether warmer – if not necessarily happier – climes.

That one of the songs here is called ‘Twinkler’ should indicate that the sound is not ‘metallic’. Nor is it, for much of the time, particularly ‘heavy’. That is not necessarily a bad thing. Much of the sound here takes Baroness’s Southern and stoner rock influences and injects them into a sonic template inhabited by bands like The Killers, Gaslight Anthem, Band of Skulls and a host of post-Strokes indie bands – but where those bands charm with bombast and fiery hooks, Baroness seduce with delicate melodies and intricate, layered guitar melodies which forge together to produce a sinewy backdrop of rock. And it still has enough clout to rattle your teeth. The songs veer from hard to soft, from soaring to soothing, in a way which only a three-piece as adept as this can, and drummer Allen Blickle’s brilliantly uncomplicated playing holds the wall of sound together. At its best, ‘Yellow & Green’ is captivating and haunting, a wash of lusty and luscious rock that is almost orchestral – it makes for an album which, whilst far from perfect, is certainly of one ‘metal’s’ most intriguing listens of 2012.

‘Yellow’ is the heavier of the two albums and features most of the highlights across the collection. And the highs are very high indeed. Opener ‘Take My Bones Away’ injects funky bass into the band’s typical stoner assault and veers between as heavy Arcade Fire and the lighter shades of Mastodon’s ‘The Hunter’; ‘Cocanium’ has a captivating spacey power; whilst ‘Little Things’ manages to balance Sonic Youth’s delicate menace with a funkadelic Thin Lizzy passage without sounding even close to confused. But perhaps best of all is ‘Eula’ – a cavenous blast of grungy Pink Floyd brilliance which most bands would kill to write. Less staccato and visceral than their previous records, these songs are cascades of intricate melodies, rhythms and glorious bottom-end.

‘Green’ is the less memorable of the two. Comprised of songs which are slower and less immediate, it is built around passages of music which are summery, breezy and shimmering, conjuring modern soft rockers like The Doves, or Elbow in places. All of this is as admirable as it is unexpected, but it often throws into relief that whilst Baroness’s previous booming sludge could be impactful through sheer force of the will of its sonorous dirge, atrock’s quieter end it is the hooks that kill – and often these songs, with their duel vocal attack, lacks them. ‘Mtns’ and ‘Fool Song’ for instance are quiescent rock veering into territory habited by REM at their most tepid. But there are, nevertheless, highlights: the beautifully trippy soundscapes of ‘Collapse’ evoke the chilly whimsical charm of Sigor Ros, whilst the thunderous burst of swampy rock which propels ‘The Line Between’ encapsulates what this record could have been – Georgian death sludge in classic rock templates. It’s the sort of song you wish mainstream radio would play, and if you cannot accuse Baroness of being consistent, you could not charge them with being complacent, either.

‘Yellow & Green’ is far from perfect – but the list of bands who have enough genuinely ‘A’ grade material to pull off a double record is (very) short. And in that sense perhaps it is best to see ‘Yellow & Green’ as a noble failure. Whilst it is certainly correct to chastise metalheads for being intolerant of soundscapes beyond the grizzled, it would be patronizing to applaud Baroness simply for having the stones to step outside of the genre in which they are so admired – many metal artists probably own albums by non-metallic artists, but they don’t want a fucking medal for it! ‘Yellow & Green’ is a good record by a great band, a band that will continue to surprise and frustrate in equal measure. But at its best, it is features moments of remarkable rock music.

[binnie]

From the vaults: Manowar – Gods Of War (2007)

On their 10th studio record the scourge of false metal chose to do the unthinkable: make a record that didn’t really have that much ‘metal’ on it at all. At least, that is, in the traditional sense. This is a 73 minute – yes, 73 minute – ‘metal’ symphony based upon Norse mythology and with tongue absolutely nowhere near cheeks. Even by the standards of Manowar – the ‘Loudest Band in The World’, the band with the reinforced drum kit, the band who signed their record contracts in their own blood and whose skull crushing speakers create an ungodly ‘black wind’ – this is over the top. But you have to admire the gumption – and if this album was ultimately a failure, it must be deemed a noble one. Odin would not have it any other way.

As befits Manowar, nothing is done in a half-assed manner. Let us be clear: the orchestration here is remarkable and beautifully recorded, rather than an add-on feature. The problem, however, is that there are too many of them. The opener – ‘Overture To The Hymn of the Immortal Warriors’ – is a six minute instrumentation piece. On its own it could have soundtracked a 1950s Holywood epic, but following it with another 2.5 minutes of orchestration on the ascension means that we are left to ensure a full 8 minutes of Manowar with no metal – that is surely enough to make any loin-cloth wearing Barbarian’s head hurt! Of course, when the metal does come, it comes in droves: ‘King Of Kings’ and ‘Loki God Of Fire’ are competent Manowar fodder, all choppy riff over a rockin’ beat, this is the vast orgy of heavy metal guitar they’ve forged a career on. Whilst the orchestration often relegates the band’s usual wall of steel guitars, the combination of band + orchestra on ‘Sons of Odin’ and the title-track yield such unspeakable acts of melodrama it really doesn’t matter. Given that much of the band’s output since 1992’s ‘Triumph Of Steel’ had been conservative and (a little) stale, you have to appreciate the sudden surge of energy.

Whilst it’s certainly a powerful record, it is also a curiously ill-paced one: metal – orchestration – narration – metal makes for a cumbersome, jolted rhythm which kills the momentum which should carry an epic. In truth, there are many power metal bands who do this sort of grandiose symphonic better in a much more fully integrated manner – Bal-Sagoth, Rhapsody of Fire, Blind Guardian spring to mind. Yet whilst ‘Gods Of Metal’ is a cumbersome, over-long and under-paced record, it is so massive in scope that it cannot help to stir an impact. Put simply, if you are not stirred by ‘Blood Brothers’ the metal died in you a long, long time ago. Coldplay beckons, and Odin will not be pleased.

[binnie]

Dew Scented – Icarus

‘Dew Scented’ are – no arguments please – the most inaccurately named band ever: given the sheer unbridled ferocity of their brand of thrash, ‘Crack Pitbull’ would be far, far more appropriate! Scrabbling around to conjure suitable adjectives to describe the intensity of this metal, terms like ‘brutal’, ‘savage’, ‘rampant’ or ‘furious’ seem woefully inadequate. ‘Maniacal’ is how this sounds. That is not to say that the music is particularly extreme – this is post-Haunted thrash metal which steers well clear of death, black or more angular aspects of the genre. What we get, then, is ultra-aggression in palatable forms and, crucially, delivered in some of the best songs your ears will have heard for years. Up to this point Dew Scented have been competent and commendable rather than classic – with ‘Icarus’, they just stepped into the big leagues. Just when you thought that a genre of music was becoming over-saturated, someone delivers an album as special as this.

Fucking hell it’s good. ‘Sworn To Obey’ is a bristling burst of warp-factor fury; ‘Thrown To The Lions’ is built from a series of tasty riffs, tempo-changes and licks good enough to leap into the ‘A’ league; ‘Storm Within’ sounds like modern-day Slayer, a skull-fucker riff and demonic melody working in sync to inject a double-dose of heaviness; whilst ‘A Final Procession’ features a riff that could slip discs – Marvin Vriesde is a Heavy Metal beast. Lyrically, it all sticks to the ‘3 Ds of Thrash’: Death, Destruction and Defiance – sure, you’ve heard it all before, but it fits the bill perfectly and often comes in the form of some interesting and thoughtful wording. When you have artwork as cool as this – a sort of post-apocalyptic take on the ‘Icarus’ story – that has to be the case.

But what really makes this album work is the emphasis on the whole over the individual parts. The songs are all – refreshingly – under 5 minutes. There is little in the way of flash, no self-indulgence or anything to lessen the whole. Delivered in a production which is very ‘live’ in its feel, Dew Scented neatly side-step the trend of most newer thrash bands to pursue the ‘technical’ route, which is often a short-route to sterility. Not so here: the sound is raw, buoyant, bottom-heavy and bristling with energy. The Haunted should take note, because these Germans have taken their template far beyond the level that they have reached in recent years. Put simply, ‘Icarus’ deserves to become a familiar part of metal’s landscape – if you were to compile a list of ‘The Best Thrash Records since “The Haunted Made Me Do It”’ this would be right near the top.

Sometimes you don’t have to reinvent the wheel to do something exciting with it.

[binnie]

Cobalt – Gin (2009)

The linear notes are prescient: ‘This record is a springboard to fuck the universe’. It certainly fucks your head – this harks back to the ideals of the late ‘60s, where many bands just did whatever the hell they liked and made music which was genuinely experimental. Some of that experimentation was fruitful, some of it proved nigh-on unlistenable. And such is the case here. In the days when music – even heavy music – comes pre-packaged in restrictive ‘sub-genre’ templates, that is very refreshing. Not that Cobalt sound anything like the late ‘60s, ideals aside. The title-track is crackling with energy, a free-form, spasming melee of music which alternates every 4 to 8 bars into another scratchy rock ‘n’ roll riff and mosaic of speed metal, hardcore-punk and Neurosis like post-rock arrangements. Despite the absence of hooks, it is oddly captivating stuff made infectious by the fact that what we have here are not so much songs but soundscapes, waves of music to submerge yourself in. That much of this seems to be improvised automatically makes it feel different to modern metal even if the component parts are pretty much identical – ‘Gin’ is a downright quirky way of re-crafting a common language.

Some of its so downright ugly it is impenetrable – witness ‘Stomach’ – whilst elsewhere there’s a tar-thick groove that sucks you in a shakes you – ‘A Clean, Well-lighted Place’. None of this is for the feint-hearted, or those who like to know where they are in a song, but it is impactful – whether that impact is compulsion or repulsion will demand on your aural palette. ‘Pregnant Insect’ is utterly remarkable, music which instantly conjures an image of its subject – eastern melodies sit under cascading guitar chords in what is essentially punk-infused Black Metal at its most gnarly and evil best. In stark contrast, ‘Dry Body’ is half Nick Cave melancholic eeriness – a clean guitar and soft vocal – and half Faith No More schizophrenia, and other songs loop and loop and loop in an almost mantra-like meditation on grade-A riff after grade-A riff.

This is Cobalt’s third album. They have been labeled ‘American Black Metal’, but ‘Gin’ is really unclassifiable (and all the better for it). It’s too loose, hardly symphonic, and garage-riven to fit the ‘Black Metal’ mantle, a product of the fact that the band is only a 2-piece (Erik Wunder and Paul McShorely). There is certainly a choking darkness in this music (with many of the references indebted to Hemingway) and if you want to listen to it every day I suspect therapy is in order – but some records you just know will be cited 15, 20 years later as incendiary and inspiring. This is one of them.