JOHNSKIBEAT

EP Review: In The Guise Of Men – Ink

2013-05-20T11:35:00.000+01:00

I’m currently holding a beautifully-packaged promo by a band calling themselves In The Guise Of Men and I’m thinking what an awesome moniker they have. The implication is that they are really aliens squeezed into human skins bent on world domination. Or, an undead zombie horde on the hunt for “braiiiiins”. It’s a far cry from the bad old days of the “The” bands (The Hives, The Vines or The Strokes), those groups that clearly used a “heavy metal band generator” (Iron Fire, Bloody Hammers or Steel Panther) or, worse still, the recent spate of “Verb the Noun” kids (Design The Skyline, After The Burial or… wait for it… Verb The Noun – yes, really). No, it’s forward-thinking experimentalists, like this Parisien quartet, that prove you really can name your musical combo something fresh and exciting and still sound cool as fuck.

A quick search through ITGOM’s history and it seems they aren’t the most prolific of groups. Having formed back in 2005, this is their first release since they birthed a demo back in 2006. This EP has clearly been a labour of love. Dissection reveals a strong, groove metal spine onto which is fused an extensive interlocking system of jazz and progressive metal elements. The whole creates a complex ident that will make them hard to pin down.

“Suicide Shop” opens the EP with a fizz, a cry of anguish and a jarring, polyrhythmic smackdown. Diving between rapidfire screams and melodious cleans the deep, thunderous attack tears away at your ears like a caged animal. Vocalist Kkrys Denhez has the odd off-key moment through the croons but he excels down in the psychotic howls of “Violent Overthrow” and the snatches of hacked rap that lurk in “Drowner” and “Dog To Man Transposition”. With furious drums, damaged chugs and melodious power choruses weaving their way throughout, it’s like listening to the bastard child of Killswitch Engage and Periphery. There is much that, initially, seems impenetrable and perseverance is definitely required. However, “Blue Lethe”, with its dark melancholic tones, provides an easy access point with a defined sense of direction which helps it to stand out clearly from the rest.

There is no doubt the songs have been written and performed with the intention of pummeling and invigorating the listener. These Frenchmen might have pulled this off completely but a heavy-handed studio mix hasn’t helped, resulting in far too many clashing overlaps. Take the verses of “Drowner” where the vocal and backing touches get all but washed out by the wall of guitar sound, or “Sale Paradise” where the brutal drum and bass levels threaten to rip the whole track to bits. Despite this, there is still enough that remains unimpeded for us to recognise the band’s high technical ability, songwriting prowess and impressive variety of vocal techniques.

Truth be told, they are a group who make quite a first impression. Startling, colourful features (Rorschach artwork courtesy of Stan W. Decker), strangely-alluring moniker and excitingly complex innards – maybe these are aliens after all. Keep an eye out for their mothership and all future communications.

Check the EP out here.

Review also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/05/in-the-guise-of-men-ink-dooweet/

Album Review: Iron Tongue – The Dogs Have Barked, The Birds Have Flown

2013-05-13T09:35:00.001+01:00

The origins of heavy metal are consistently fought over by rival factions, but one irrefutable fact that stands out from the bickering, regardless of whether you stand in the Blue Cheer, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple or Cream camps, is that without blues music, metal probably would never even have made it that far. This is an interesting counterpoint to consider when rolling Iron Tongue‘s debut album around your skull for the first time.

With its heart in blues and its soul in metal, this cathartic crusher, hammered out by a mélange of Arkansas veteran musicians, pays due deference to its forbears. Initially, the music bears a strong resemblance to the recent batch of Townes Van Zandt covers, perpetrated by doom Illuminati Steve Von Till, Wino and Scott Kelly. Brief bursts of it emerge as Iron Tongue roughly feed their country affectations and hefty, blues-tinged rock through the chomping maw of old school doom metal in much the same manner. However, there is no getting away from where much of this album’s running time is spent; playing between the twin forces of St. Vitus and The Allman Brothers Band.

As an addendum to this, it is worth noting that leading the line here is Rwake‘s vocalist Chris “C.T.” Terry. Although The Dogs Have Barked, The Birds Have Flown oozes with a far more laid-back, almost-jammed approach to songwriting, it still comes as no great surprise to discover that there are also strong hints of the Little Rock sludge-flingers’ Southern drawl, twang and propensity for experimentation coursing through this.

Kicking us off, the soft-hearted, warm and gently twinkling ‘Ever After’ sucks up a Cream-esque vibe and neatly introduces us to the juxtaposition between Stephanie Smittle’s crystalline high-pitched backing and CT’s cracked, gnarly growl. Step forward a notch into ‘Skeleton’ and you’ll find yourself cornered by controlled, insistent chord rotations. Intense disillusionment and anger begin to flood through in the lyrics, fed by the steady pounding of skins and dense bass thunder. Sneaky Hammond organ rushes leak into the kind of bleak, glacial riffery employed by Dave Chandler (only without the cone-splitting distortion) as we drink in echoes of his first-love, St. Vitus. To finish, Smittle’s emotive bullet-points ram home the power of the wordplay as the valve amps creak and cry for mercy.

For those in search of walking riffs and a spot of bluesy swagger, head over to ‘Lioness’ and ’7 Days’. The former offers jinking boy-girl vocals, fuzzed-up bass and a tune-in, drop-out, throbbing four-chord trick, as Iron Tongue menacingly wrap you around their collective finger. The latter is all whining leads, sweet drops into half-time, more background Hammond and a croaky, lived-in vocal that winds itself up into a tuneless howl.

Realistically, for a seven-tracker to really shock and awe, you do need to be able to dig through all the songs and hit gold and that isn’t the case here. Some less-hardy souls might find things a little repetitive, and a couple of tracks, despite their reasonable running times, fail to keep producing and, consequently, do stretch the limitations of patience. Sadly, closer, ‘Said n’ Done’, by conjuring up the Blue Cheer proto-metal spirit – a matter of dispensing with the formalities with a simple grip and rip – suffers most of all. It stomps about, before it petulantly sinks down to a lethargic plod, where it revels in its own soul-sucking wedge of sludgy dissonance like a sullen brat. Thankfully there’s album highlight, ‘Moon Unit’, surely a reference to Frank Zappa‘s wackily-named first-born, there to save the day and act as a Sabbathian counterbalance, and it does hit like a brick between the eyes. Making plenty of room in the music, it sticks CT front and center. From this position of dominance, his vocal shifts from frazzled to fragmenting as he sets about bellowing out this trip of a track like his very soul depends on it.

Neurosis’ Steve Von Till has been moved to refer to this release as one containing “a power and an edge and soul that rarely exists in music today”. Now there’s a man who knows his onions and there is no arguing with that as the perfect one-line analysis for this beasty. As the viscious lyric from ‘Moon Unit’ warns – “The lights are out, engine is running and I have got you in my sights”. CT and, indeed, Iron Tongue have got metal history to back them up here, so take note.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2013/05/10/iron-tongue-the-dogs-have-barked-the-birds-have-flown/

Album Review: The Ocean - Pelagial

2013-05-07T13:02:00.002+01:00

Written to be consumed and performed as one singular piece of music, Pelagial is a fascinating concept album that tells a tale of life in the big blue. Songwriter Robin Staps’ plan, to begin at the surface of the ocean and sink the listener steadily through the five pelagic depth zones, could have led to a simplistic 53-minute soundtrack going “glug, glug, glug”. However, unsurprisingly, he has quashed what could have been viewed as a gimmick by fully realising and integrating the notion, with individual tracks able to work both as standalone songs and also as part of the all-encompassing whole. As a consequence, this means drinking in the immensity of the ocean / The Ocean is not a task to be taken on lightly – repeated listens are essential to gauge just how deep this beast goes.

It is not by chance that you can sense the increasing depth, pressure and diminishing light as you progress through the album. “My original plan was to write a stepless musical progression, like a continuous colour blending from white to black”, says Staps, “but I soon realized that it could not be that linear.” The need for soundman Jens Bogren to create 288 separate audio tracks is proof alone of what a complex task this was to try and smoothly patch the entirety together. Consequently, there are plenty of overlapping glugs after all, as well as bubbles, babbles, sloshes and groans and the journey is not a direct path downwards.

The rippling wash of the introductory “Epipelagic” is dappled with light; emerging sounds that range from wind chimes to a distant oriental orchestra. A gentle movement into the mesopelagic and a bowed cello for “Into The Uncanny” drops away to finally reveal the waves of electrics. For a while, we swim through this and the bathyalpelagic zones; rocky, hard waters with fist-pumping anthems and catchy riffs. “Impasses” hits hardest with a strong undercurrent of post-metallic crush driving us deeper. Already, Loic Rossetti’s screams are raining down and the jaws are dropping at the manic tapping and rhythmic patterning.

A sudden drop-off into the black-edged death rattle of “Disequillibriated” is the first point where the oppressive crush becomes apparent as The Ocean raise their metal flag and rage without remorse. It is also the marker where the lineal process downwards also becomes fragmented. “Boundless Vasts” offers a fresher wider vantage point which “Signals Of Anxiety” leaps upon as an opportunity to introduce the perception of size and pressure. Our tiny sonic diving bell suddenly seems minute in these immense waters. The layering of the music is impressively thick here in the abyss with the echoing choruses taking the spotlight. There are washed-out melodics and lightness of tone to contend with here and these do contrast, jar even, when placed against a backdrop of bass-loaded bottom-end.

A depth marker further, the hadopelagic, serves as an oddly buoyant build into the finale and feels a little frivolous – these twinkling, disjointed precursors seem anomalous, almost rushed pieces, acting as little more than padding. The final depth gauge markers, demersal and benthic are, as expected, monstrous beasts. “Cognitive Dissonance” is full of sudden hammering, panic-stricken chugging and twin roars that squeeze and squeeze until “The Origin Of Our Wishes” slows heartbeats with a pounding, dissonant doom that claws at bodies; snatching lives. Sound the death knell. Davy Jones’ Locker has taken us.

It is perhaps true that this project could just have easily been flipped on its head and taken the listener on a steady rise to the surface. It certainly would have roused the listener from the off with a hefty opening salvo and also produced an uplifting finale. One would imagine that the band’s proggier side could have flourished a little more overtly than this version’s obvious propensity for overdosing on metallic power. Given time though, it is clear that this shoe fits and The Ocean most definitely stretch themselves to plug the gaps. The ride may not be the smoothest but, undeniably, this Pelagial is still a conceptual masterpiece with genius to be found in both its shifting, beguiling, expansive post-metal wash and in those thick, dark brushstrokes that produce such thunder throughout.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/05/the-ocean-pelagial-metal-blade/

Album Review: Steak Number Eight – The Hutch

2013-04-30T14:50:00.002+01:00

In 2007, when they had an average age of 15, Steak Number Eight were already winning band competitions. Four years later, still mostly teenagers, they released their first debut album, All Is Chaos, and watched the plaudits rain down upon them. It was always going to be this way that their 2013 sophomore effort was going to be their make-or-break album. Probably the name for their practice room or some hilarious Belgian in-joke (rather than a house for Mr. Bunny or Lonesome George), will The Hutch, this ma-hoo-sive 71 minute-long album (81 mins, if you buy the “bonus track-included” vinyl) be a hare or a tortoise?

Straight out of the traps, Sn8 tear lumps out of your ears with razor-sharp, angular attacks. First comes the battering squall of “Cryogenius”, then the hardcore-fuelled single “Black Eyed”. Combined, they form an ultra-violent Feed The Rhino / Converge / Poison The Well-esque alliance with screaming choruses and menacing links with plenty to offer the heart, yet little to offer the brain. However, no sooner has their tornado blown out, than out pops “Photonic”. Its complex tonal switch-up to something infinitely darker and quietly foreboding is utterly mesmeric. With a repeating line of “one of you is going to die” rattling around your skull, it plays on that classic horror-movie schtick of fear, worthlessness and false hope.

Here, the band have quickly settled down into what could best be described as a determined pacing. It is this sort of speed where they flick a switch and begin to pay mind to the smaller details. It is undoubtedly, what they do best – All Is Chaos proved that and things are no different here.

From this point forth, you’ll start hearing luminescent flourishes à la Torche, Isis-rich thundering and cherry-picked moments from the entire Baroness’ discography. There are slack-jawed, clean vocals, thick, rotational riffs and dark melodious washes to drown in. Constantly shifting, the band weave in new elements; layering up as they progress. The post-metal, Mastodonic meandering of the sublime “Pilgrimage Of A Black Heart” feeds the muscle of “Exile Of Our Marrow”. Before you know it, they’re piling malcontent upon disillusionment; sharpening the visceral ‘core edges for “The Shrine” and “Slumber”. These sudden, thrusting, sharp stabs finally relent to reveal a Tool-esque wasteland for the masterful “Ashore” and the brain flips once more.

How these young men can show such restraint for the entire 9:30 of “Tearwalker” is beyond me. It’s basically a one-key rolling maul of tones and textures; a track with unbelievable depth that might just literally floor you. If not, it will certainly glue you to the spot. It demands one of your greatest vacant, middle-distance stares. Are you prepared for that kind of intensity, because Steak Number Eight sure are? This is not only their “coming of age” album, it is a deal-maker, an organic masterpiece and, with a worldwide release pending, it ~~should~~ is going to propel them onto the biggest of stages.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/04/steak-number-eight-the-hutch-indie-recordings/

Album Review: Melvins – Everyone Loves Sausages

2013-04-26T16:29:00.003+01:00

Sausages – traditionally, a smashed pig piped into its own stomach lining. Pig – the food that the whole western world devours with such gusto. Bacon, ham, pork chops, sausages. That “wonderful, magical animal” that Homer Simpson refers to when contemplating such a variety of tasty offerings. What an album title, then, to make folks sit up and get heads moving. The carnivores amongst you will all be nodding them savagely, whilst meat-abstainers worldwide may well just sadly shake them. End of the day, there’s nothing to argue about. This sizzles either way.

Now, You’ll probably, like me, struggle to identify a fair few of these songs but I think it’s fair to say that they weren’t ever going to be straight-up reproductions. This is The Melvins (the “The” is silent here), after all, linking their influences and favourite tracks together, throwing their eccentric nous, twisted musicality and a few friends into the mix and emerging with an assorted jumble of flavours that should get your tastebuds churning.

Initially, Everyone Loves Sausages hits hard and heavy with Neurosis’ Scott Kelly guesting for a tear-up of Venom’s “Warhead”. Its mighty vocal lead will have heads bobbing and horns up. Soon though the band shift gears to relocate to something a little less gritty. Appeasing their rock and pop urges, they plump for The Fugs’ “Carpe Diem”, complete with its original warm 60s wash and jinking vibe and the stonking all-in rocker “Black Betty” (Ram Jam). There’s also a grating rendition of Queen’s “Best Friend” with tacked-on, plinking electro-fizz which Melvins develop, flesh out and turn into a hacked rendition of “Heathen Earth” (Throbbing Gristle). Sadly, they do take it a step too far with a 3-minute intro of gruesome ambient noise which kicks-off a preciously reedy version of Bowie’s “Station To Station”.

When they do find their punk muscle, they really set about tearing shit up for a twisted, rough-and-ready rip of The Jam’s “Art School”, complete with ex-U.S. marine Tom Hazelmyer’s anarchic Mockney accent causing much hilarity. There’s also “Timothy Leary Lives” (Pop-O-Pies) and a snotty-nosed cover of The Kinks’ “Attitude” (featuring Blondie’s Clem Burton) to gob all over.

Album highlights are undoubtedly Mudhoney’s Mark Arm giving his all to grunge-up “Set It On Fire” whilst, at the same time, giving The Scientists’ original a run for its money, and a big-bass, lush, loping, bluesy version of “Female Trouble”, the theme music to the infamous movie of the same name.

Refusing to completely ditch the impact of the originals, Melvins have stuck pretty close to the same tones and textures for the majority of the tracks here, but that’s not to say they aren’t worthwhile renditions. Not by a long chalk. There’s plenty that will provide some shocks and maybe a little awe. Some undoubtedly squeeze out above the others, but the whole, with its mainstream classics and underground rarities, stands proudly as a fair representation of the Melvins’ wide and varied record collections. In many ways, a true alternative Best Of The Melvins. Hungry, anyone?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/04/melvins-everyone-loves-sausages-ipecac/

Album Review: Across Tundras/Lark’s Tongue – Split LP

2013-04-22T14:06:00.000+01:00

All too often, partnerships on split records can often conflict creating as much disharmony as complementary noises. That’s not always a bad thing, as the range of contradicting, experimental connections inside can often portray an intriguing and more complete whole. In this instance, however, there is plenty of concord and, consequently, plenty of opportunity for further exploration. Combined, these two have even managed to play inside the pentagonal borders of what we, the press, might refer to as grunge, shoegaze, drone, post-metal and stoner.

This blissed-out middle-ground is first marked out by the wonderfully-titled Across Tundras, a trio hailing from Tennessee who Cavity Records have described as both “vintage psychedelia” and “panoramic country crush”. The track “Low Haunts”, propped up by an anarchic four-and-a-half minute warbling wash of pedal effects (rather like an orchestra clearing its throat) steps up with a lush, organic kind of Americana that warms the very cockles of your heart. If The Rolling Stones ate mushrooms and space-cake instead of snorting all that coke and speed, they’d have sounded pretty much like this. Hell they even say it themselves. Interesting, then, that the line “Like a rolling stone” pops up in “Crux To Bea” which throws more chugging groove into the mix enabling them to drift into grittier corners. Never static, they eventually tumble into an effusive style of stripped-back, heavy-lidded blues that echo artists like Dan Auberbach and Dead Confederate.

Completing the morphing progression, Illinois-dwelling Lark’s Tongue (their moniker clearly paying homage to King Crimson) head deeper into the cosmos to haul down a droning wall-of-sound backdrop à la Hawkind into which they weave a tapestry of lush melodies à la Slowdive. Haul on the volume for the book-ending chorus of “Follow Your Night” to fully appreciate the obliterating crush and then drop out for complete immersion as the LP’s highlight, “Aluminium”, kicks in. The vocal harmonies locked within are stunningly beautiful and meld serenely into the thunderous riffage that rains down upon the listener.

As a split four-tracker this may, on the face of it, seem like a frivolous purchase, but at 33 minutes it offers pretty good value for money. Honestly, you’d be hard-pressed to find another split as thematically-explorative, emotionally dense and gloriously satisfying as this one.

Now streaming @ Bandcamp = http://cavityrecords.bandcamp.com/album/across-tundras-larks-tongue-split

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/04/across-tundraslarks-tongue-split-lp-cavity-records/

Album Review: Stone Sour – House Of Gold & Bones, Part II

2013-04-19T09:54:00.000+01:00

By keeping his cards close to his chest, little has been revealed about frontman Corey Taylor’s concept propping up this double-album. Taken word for word from the preview for the forthcoming Dark Horse Comics’ story (yes, it’s due for a staggered release as a graphic novel too) we have this – “Trapped in an alternate reality, the Human must make his way to the House of Gold & Bones as he is chased by a crazed, mindless mob, and taunted by his mysterious friend and foe, Allen. What the Human discovers on his journey will be his salvation or his destruction.”

Now what became apparent, when Part I was released last year, was that it really didn’t matter too much if you weren’t aware of the concept. The individual tracks all had their own identity with the whole struggling to flow like a good concept should. This may have been possibly because it had been hyped up (by its creator) to be the best thing since sliced bread, so naturally it underwhelmed with its middle-of the road, dull chuntering. Part II will be judged with expectations adjusted accordingly so, naturally, it will have similar shock value, but for entirely different (and all of the right) reasons.

The first thing to hit you is just how fucking intense this thing is. I suspect the reason for the difference is that it’s all integral to the story with Part I being the build and the introspective maudlin and Part II having all the chase scenes and the drama. Guitarist Josh Rand summed that idea up quite neatly when he was quoted recently as saying “the riffs, the lyrics, the grooves and the songs are like Stone Sour times ten.” Listen to the dissolute screams on the bridges of “Gravesend” or the manic, lung-bursting roars that tear out the heart of “Red City” and I reckon you’ll agree he’s got a point. By comparison, all of this album’s constituent parts have been beefed-up making them bigger, bolder and a million times more effective.

The big-hitting singles are going to come from places like the 10-foot groove dug by “Black John”, the maniacal villain that haunts our hero (any connection to TV’s The Mentalist and their resident psycho “Red John” is probably coincidental), the bouncy rock licks of “Do Me A Favour” and the title-track which cuts down hard enough to release a line like “I’ve got nothing to prove to a son of a bitch like you”. Look elsewhere and you’ll hear piercing, instantly recognisable riffs in sweet cuts like “’82″ and “The Uncanny Valley” whilst the post-rock mystique of “Blue Smoke” strip the vocal back and murmur pedal effects that render it strongly reminiscent of bands like OSI and Porcupine Tree.

Now before we get carried away here, Stone Sour’s tendency to revert to a mundane, predictable, static AOR plod does pop up here and there. Poppy ballad “Sadist” drifts along offering little whilst “The Conflagration” pulls in an orchestra for little more than a dull spot of 80s soft rock a la Foreigner, Mr. Big, Scorpions, etc. Even worse is the horrendous double key-change in “Stalemate” which deserves the obligatory inside-out face cringe.

Only a fool could fail to see the money-making, wallet-draining potential of this entire multi-platform project (intentional or otherwise), but that’s another matter altogether. What really counts here is that even including these weaknesses, and excluding the back story, accompanying album and ephemera, HOGAB2 is one hell of an album and a solid challenger for the title of Stone Sour’s finest album. Even if you disagree with that assessment, it’s their first worthy output in seven years, so it’s not one to be dismissed lightly.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/04/stone-sour-house-of-gold-bones-part-ii-roadrunner/

Album Review: No Consequence – IO

2013-04-10T11:20:00.000+01:00

No Consequence have seemingly named new album IO after one of Jupiter’s moons, yet judging by the kind of lyrical content Kaan Tasan (now handling all vocal duties) blasts out here, he might be able to suggest a less-obvious interpretation. His choice of screamed words leave the listener in no doubt that the album’s inspiration lies firmly on Planet Earth. The lyrics paint a picture of a group of pissed off individuals, angry at the way this modern life of ours works. Fists are shaken at the lies we are fed, the political red tape we have to cross, or the cover-ups that keep those to blame safe. Nothing works as it should; full potential is less of a target than monetary gain and consequently hopes are dashed again and again.

And no-one says it more eloquently and passionately than Tasan. Take the last line of second track “Consumerism” and the last of closer “Unify” – “We’re part of the culture … We’re slaves to consumerism” identifying one of our many failings and “We must unify … Break out these chains / We are one” offering a solution. Everything that surrounds these strong, emotive hardcore ethics is either a focussed, fiery polyrhythmic assault bolstering jarring tech majestry or subversive side-steps into spaced-out, atmospheric prog. Whether screamed or sung, played at break-neck or ponderous speeds, the whole is balanced beautifully. No Consequence are beginning to construct the sort of loud, impactful music that underground UK heroes like The Arusha Accord and The Safety Fire have been blowing our minds with.

You want an example of their vitriol? Have a listen to “Illusion Of Choice”. Layered deep to reveal a distant, meandering lead holding fort, a skidding middle-distance wedge of strings and drums, and a bellowed front of house vocal that builds to scream “What have we become?” in our recoiling faces. Every time you run through this bad boy, in between the gritty hammer on / hammer off crush of strings, you’ll catch a new infectious lyric to grasp – “Lost in a sea of truth, your lungs fill with dirt, this world doesn’t need a saviour, it needs the truth” (from the pounding “Enemy Of Logic”) or the introspective wit of “It is time to turn this tide, stuck in a world of electric distortion” (from the soft-hearted, ambient wash of “Sentient”). Make sure you keep those ears peeled back because inside these lyrics is where this album’s heart and soul lies.

Perhaps there is a nagging sense that this hard-hitting smack of disillusionment is being presented at a time when a lot of the same ground has been covered by others. Had this been written a couple of years ago, I’d have no qualms in whole-heartedly recommending it to lovers of post-hardcore and math metal alike. Nevertheless, a solid album is always a solid album so I’m going to keep this one in reserve for when my blood is really boiling. The evolution that No Consequence has undergone since their rough-edged debut is staggering, From every angle, this blows it out of the water.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/04/no-consequence-io-basick-records/

Album Review: Oceans Of Slumber – Aetherial

2013-04-10T11:02:00.000+01:00

Planets on album covers. They are becoming as familiar as bands labelling themselves “progressive” to mean forward-thinking rather than the retro-minded souls that you might expect them to be. Houston’s Oceans Of Slumber mean it in the sense that they dabble – i.e.; they are prepared to mash musical genres together to obtain a technically complex whole. The art of song construction has never been braver than here. Yes, a gorgeous gatefold sleeve with three planets to gawp at and an album that unites a grind drummer with a jazz guitarist and throws new-age prog and old-school doom at black and death metal. The result is an album that goes a bit Opeth, a bit Devin Townsend, a bit Enslaved then, at other moments, loses it altogether and heads off into Faith No More and Incubus territory. This is going to be fun.

The opening bars of Aetherial, the ragged minor chords of an acoustic guitar and the tumultuous bellow of Ronnie Allen, conjure memories of Mastodon’s Crack The Skye and Isis’ Wavering Radiant. Otherwordly, dissonant, abrasive and vast, “God In Skin” is a crushing initial blow with a huge dynamic range that stretches it’s gnarled fingers into the starry heavens and the blackened beyond. And the blacker the band go the more ludicrous they get. Elegiac maudlin becomes raw pain pouring from “Primordial” before it just throws on the clown mask and starts mono-cycling round the big-top. Oh and, yes, and if you’re looking for your hit of Mike Patton head to “Blackest Cloud” which lives up to it’s name and also goes a bit doolally, resulting in the stilted playing of the American national anthem.

The vocals attack from many different angles. We’re offered up Dalek-like gargling monotone for the line “Coffins in the sky like kites on strings, dead things” which flips to a hollow, disembodied roar for “Surrender, just go ahead and bow to me”. Move further into the album and there’s an affected bluesy, melodious male voice vying with a removed, echoing female voice. It’s a real bag of tricks this.

From the jazzy tech attack of double-kick and bass-heavy arrhythmia that rips through the heart of the jarring “Remedy” to the wonderfully straight-forward groove of “Only A Corpse”, Oceans Of Slumber clearly don’t do patterns. You could jumble the running order up and be spat out the other end with the same wide-eyed, slightly spaced-out look, having been blasted with all manner of sounds, yet still clutching the same few moments of joy. “Bleed me down to nothingness, fill me up with emptiness” from “Athereal” and the last gasp Mitch Lucker-esque “Cowards!” howl in “Coffins Like Kites” are my moments. Oh, and all of the staggeringly lush “The Great Divide”.

When extreme technical ability meets the songwriting minds of madmen you get an album like Aetherial. Some will consider this self-absorbed jiggery-pokery; something to use as a coffee-mat. Others will see this as the disjointed early etchings of potential champions. “Is this a great blow to your minds?” enquires Allen. That’s an affirmative, Captain.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/04/oceans-of-slumber-aetherial-self-released/

Album Review: Warbeast – Destroy

2013-04-03T17:22:00.000+01:00

Formed in 2006 and “discovered” by Down’s Phil Anselmo, Warbeast have been flying high of late. Last month’s split EP with the Down frontman was my first hit of Warbeast and upon discovering it was one heady cocktail, I naturally asked for more. Ave Noctum’s Commander-In-Chief didn’t let me down.

Led by former Rigor Mortis vocalist Bruce Corbitt, it isn’t any surprise to discover that his vocal is hugely effective here. The speeding thrash assault of drums and guitars are a real fistful but its Corbitt’s enormous, gnarly snarl that marks him out as monstrously influential. Somehow he rises above the mile-thick throb with a sharp, stabbing delivery to give the listener a bloody good ear-raping.

The album itself covers plenty of ground. From bursting into life with the instrumental Megadethian “Cryogenic Thawout”, Destroy moves on to diligently lay down a multitude of heavy styles that sucks up the deathly thrash of Slayer and the crush of Sepultura to form a rousing Bay Area thrash n’ groove combo sound that isn’t a million miles off Brazil’s beastly Torture Squad. “Nightmares In The Sky” summons the balls-out thrash of Exodus to rain Hell down upon us, whilst “Nobody” is more reminiscent of Cavalera Conspiracy’s “Hex” with it’s thick groove and determined face-ripping vocal.

Highlights come in the longer form of the deathly serious 7-minuter “The Day Of…” and the 6-minute title-track. The former threads the power of Destruction through the licks of Machine Head before dropping off into a Maiden-esque trawl through man’s various atrocities on man and the natural disasters that have afflicted us – “We all remember where we were that day, from that moment our lives were never the same”. The latter piles on the thrash assault with the bass and drums thundering into our chest – here we are left in no doubt just how full-on Warbeast can get.

All this and yet they retain a strong element of fun and farce which they infuse songs like “War Of The Worlds” and “Egotistical Bastard” with. Together they are like listening to a more intense GWAR (who they happen to be touring with right now). Lyrically, it’s a mess – “You walk on air, your shit don’t stink, even when you’re wrong you’re right” – weird in the whole scheme of things but as individual hits, they work just fine.

I’ve a strong suspicion that they held back their best and heaviest material for their Anselmo split, so that might account for the dearth of quality crushers, but it wouldn’t necessarily account for its emotional mis-management or odd pacing. Truth be told, this is a real jerk of an album. Warbeast play it a bit like a teenager operates his motor. Accelerating like a lunatic, then breaking hard – it’s enough to give you whiplash. If you don’t mind them driving like they stole it, then hop on board.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/03/warbeast-destroy-season-of-mist/

News: Anciients & Buzzard King

2013-03-29T15:08:00.000Z

The joys of traipsing through BandCamp has revealed two total stunners this week in the form of Canada's Anciients and Cambridge, England's Buzzard King.

Anciients, set to release their debut album on April 12th (April 16th in North America), are described as "somewhere between sheer, apocalyptic heaviness and precise riffing — a Vancouver-based rock juggernaut forging crushing heavy metal evocative of veterans High on Fire and contemporary sonic craftsmen Opeth, Anciients have combined fuck-off-huge chords with mind-altering riffage that takes you on an unfamiliar trip."

They've stuck up a trio of tracks from their forthcoming Heart Of Oak album on their BandCamp page here - http://anciientriffs.bandcamp.com/album/heart-of-oak - I think you'll find "Faith And Oath" to be an absolute jaw-dropper.

Fans of "bourbon-soaked heavy rock noir", as the band describes themselves, need to head over to Buzzard King's BandCamp page - http://buzzardking.bandcamp.com/ - and pay close attention to the tracks "Diesel And Danger" for it's stone-cold groove, sweet riffage and blues-streaked vocal and "Tumbling Spires" for it's howling drive and memorable barbs of each verse and the effortless roll as it takes you through their full range of gears. Think Clutch meets Rival Sons via The Doors and Graveyard.

As an interesting aside, Rival Sons are playing Cambridge soon and I haven't a clue why this lot aren't on the bill. The campaign starts here, folks...

Album Review: Carcharodon - Roachstomper

2013-03-28T12:09:00.000Z

Carcharodon, the collective term for a species of large shark, aren’t exactly the most sophisticated band – the Italian’s debut album was called Macho Metal, for crying out loud. There is nothing they seem to enjoy more than swigging whiskey and blowing holes in their amps. When your influences range from the steady sludge of Eyehategod and High On Fire to speedier death metal bands like Entombed and Carnivore, you should expect a band with pretty big teeth and they don’t disappoint in that respect.

Their swathes of leaden distortion turn the guitars into a real conveyor belt of teeth and leave Roachstomper sounding as dense and weighty as a bag of gravel. Pixo’s “motorbass” tears lumps out of your ears and his nail-gargling “growl” and pig squeals threaten to rip them right off. And the band make all this noise with their tongues planted firmly in their collective cheek. It almost hurts to listen to the “bree, bree” lampoonery of “Pig Squeal Nation” and you’ll want to check out Pixo singing (what sounds like) “Jumbo squid you are my meal, I’ll see you tomorrow in my shit!” Now that has got to be a band playing it for laughs all the way.

Several of the tracks overstay their welcome by digging down a little too deeply. “Marilyn Monrhoid” has a fine, galloping opening that jinks into a neat, head-bobbing sway, yet it’s spoilt by a collapse into a series of needless climaxes. Also, “The Sky Has No Limits” lives up to its own name by recycling the same three chords for a full seven minutes before switching up into an incessant warble that collapses into jarringly oppressive white noise. Even “Stoneface Legacy” is guilty by spending two unnecessary minutes rotating around the same riff.

It’s a hole that their deference to country and blues (they cite ZZ Top as an influence) enables them to dig back out of. “Chupacobra” and “Voodoo Autopsy” are steeped in the genres – you’ll hear it in the snatches of slide and steel guitar and the jaunty licks emerging brightly from their sticky sludge. Their unique song construction allows them to retain the element to surprise at all times. Even taking into account the mesmeric, reverse chanting that bookends “Stoneface Legacy”, who could honestly have foreseen the sample of redneck dialogue and cosmic Mastodon-esque insanity of “Beaumont, TX” or the climax of “Burial In Whiskey Waves” which suddenly explodes into warping, euphoric melody.

Roachstomper is a brute of an album. It’s been fleshed out to bursting point, resulting in plenty of unsightly bulges, yet it’s exactly the kind of deathly bait that will tempt stoner fans into biting. Carcharodon smell blood. Will you let them sink their teeth in?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/03/carcharodon-roachstomper-altsphere/

Album Review: Bovine – The Sun Never Sets On The British Empire

2013-03-25T09:34:00.003Z

With an album title like this one, Midlands monsters Bovine appear to be patriots to the [T-]bone – yes there’s going to be bad cow jokes in this one, folks (count ‘em). “Where’s the beef?” you may ask. Well, their PR isn’t a million miles off when it brands them as sound-a-likes to a volley of bands from across the pond – Kyuss, Soundgarden, QOTSA and Baroness. Sure, those rock elements are there but don’t be fooled into thinking this lot are happy go-lucky cows. No, this lot bleed metal; they are shit-spreading, muck-throwing nasty-arsed beasts.

Taking the bull by the horns here, Bovine sure as hell sport some beefy guitars. Quite how they manage to corale that QOTSA-desert rock vibe of “Thank Fuck I Ain’t You” into Torche’s knee-deep sludge is awe-inspiring. Mind you, they’re certainly not adverse to a spot of ethereal post-rock noodling either, as the bowed, echoic intro “Barium” attests. This soon bleeds out into the howling crush of “Ghost Chair” which plunders the scrawling depths of bands like ruminant brothers-in-arms Bison B.C., No Made Sense and Isis. Mimicking Iron Maiden, they do drag forth that very British element – a recording of one of Churchill’s rousing speeches. Another box ticked.

Moo-ving on, “Heroes Are What” divides its time between a crooning acoustic wash and a wall of dissonant noise, treading a line between modern Poison The Well and the thundering hooves of These Arms Are Snakes. Last time I heard a band this scattergun it was No Hawaii and they were undoubtedly wannabe Deftones. There’s more disquietingly stripped acoustic guitar on “Aneugenic”, whilst the title-track feels like a bolt to the skull. Toms and chugs carve out an addictively methodical, two-chord groove over which is herded a sweet warbling riff and an emotion-soaked vocal. Then, quick bursts of top-end create udder mayhem and fuse the piece into a psych-heavy, lump of slowly rotating space-rock. Necks will snap. Holy cow!

The band turn the heat up gradually over the course of the album’s rump. Those final three tracks see them eliminating their grunge affectations and flexing their sludge muscle, roasting their audience with fatty riffs and scarring vocals until all that remains is a thick lump of mouth-wateringly meaty steak. Put it this way, their prime cut “Not Another Name”, has the power to butcher the still-beating heart from your body.

Okay, the recording is a little too raw, but it does lend a certain energy to the piece. The dominant scratchy guitar tone itches more than it cuts and for a band that boasts about its heavy drums, the snare has wobbly legs. Standing out in the mix, it’s that thick thub sound, not unlike the noise of an uncooked leek hitting a pringle lid. Having said that, with songs like “I Will Make You Real” ploughing an almighty furrow through the album and that huge title-track in their meat-locker, Bovine’s qualities are here for all to see – yes, in black and white.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/03/bovine-the-sun-never-sets-on-the-british-empire-fda-rekotz/

Album Review: Gloryhammer – Tales From The Kingdom Of Fife

2013-03-11T11:19:00.000Z

Alestorm fans, considering the slightly ludicrous nature of that band’s twisted pirate metal, will probably already have a good sense of humour – guilty as charged, m’Lord. They will have taken note of the emergence of Christopher Bowes’ (Alestorm’s vox and keys) new project Gloryhammer and be looking forward to more of the same. Most probably won’t be surprised by the emergence of a singular, identifiable comic hero (Angus McFife isn’t quite Eddie The Head just yet – yes, he does look a bit like Thor with that hammer of his), the fantastical backstory or belly-shaking song-titles. However, I doubt all will seriously be moved by the creative choice of genre (“Heroic Fantasy Power Metal”) or the music itself.

Tracks like “Angus McFife” and the 10-minute pounder “The Epic Rage Of Furious Thunder” echo the thumping NWOBHM of Maiden and Priest, whilst the softer, lyrical beasts of “Quest For The Hammer Of Glory” and “Hail To Crail” run parallel to the rousing war stories of Turisas. Of course, the nippier, synth-loaded power metal numbers, such as “Amulet Of Justice” and “The Unicorn Invasion of Dundee”, are a tad more Dragonforce.

Thomas Winkler’s dynamic, soaring clarion cry is perfect for the task at hand, especially when the harmonies kick in behind it, but the programming tweaks that allow him to sink deep enough to become the character Angus McFife render his input utterly underwhelming.

The songwriting spends a lot of time stripping chords from the fantasy playbook and, consequently, is about as structurally innovative as a bag of chips with the cheese-munching lyrics repeating ad infinitum, ad nauseum. There’s also plenty of material that doesn’t quite sink its teeth in hard but, equally, there’s plenty that you’ll find humming to yourself later. Take “Magic Dragon” for instance – you have to say it’s about as slick a piece of music as you’ll find anywhere; paced to perfection, strong on intriguing tones and delivered with a great deal of pomp and circumstance.

The surprisingly sincere “Silent Tears Of [A] Frozen Princess” (although a giggle can still be had if you half-listen and mishear “frozen pizzas” as I did) is my personal favourite, providing a melancholic, focal axis to the album and a break from the simplistic chicanery that surrounds it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a solid album and one that will divide opinion because of the many bases it touches. If you think you may already be a fan of heroic, fantasy or power metal and have a sense of humour, you should be giving the Gloryhammer a swing. If you’re not and you don’t, I’d advise you to duck and cover.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/03/gloryhammer-tales-from-the-kingdom-of-fife/

Album Review: The Advent Equation – Limitless Life Reflections

2013-02-28T11:30:00.002Z

My love for technically-demanding modern metal means I often find myself writing words that might convince those browsing the web that I am concocting some magnificent, scientific conundrum. In the past, I have come across albums by The Omega Experiment, TesseracT, The Mars Volta, The Mercury Program and The HAARP Machine. Now, here I am writing about The Advent Equation. It’s enough to quantum your mechanics.

These particular modern metallists come from Mexico. Yep, the home of tequila and tortilla. It’s often thought of as a bit of a metal deadzone, though when you consider it’s vicinity to the noisy hotbed of North America that’s always seemed surprising. Early run-throughs of Limitless Life Reflections prove The Advent Equation are obviously keen to put that idea to bed with their accomplished combination of prog, death and tech metal. Seriously, you’ll struggle to believe this hasn’t come from the cold heart of Scandanavia (I’m not in the least surprised to learn it did pass through Jens Borgen’s Fascination Street Studio at one point on it’s journey).

Take “Afterlife Evolutionary”. It opens with a tumultuous broil of drums setting the rhythm, over which is laid a bloodlusting death roar, quickfire finger taps, dramatic piano and cutaways into melodic synth. From here, we are dragged through a rapid series of menacing, instrumental affectations and lurching timing changes. And that’s just one track. It’s clear that getting to grips with this ever-changing mixture of musical techniques and emotional tones is going to be no easy task. Other tracks like the floating melancholy of “Visons Of Pain” and “Hopeless” don't dig down so far and are less obtuse in their design. They are recognisable songs and, as such, are a little easier to gain a foothold on.

Tracks like “Glimpse Of What May Be” and “A Descent Into The Unreal” will grab you with their depth of sound. The three-part vocal harmonies and hammering switchbacks that underscore it all are intense, anthemic and at their apex, truly awe-inspiring. However, with so much that meanders and lollops around these momentary snatches of genius, it’s hard to fully get behind the songwriting – “On Darkness”, for instance, sweeps from the dull, inane and metronomic into an overpowering smack of twinkling synth and back again through an unnatural series of segues.

The album, as a whole, is best thought of as a series of tonal shades ranging from black to grey and back again. Opeth and Enslaved influences run close to the surface throughout this chameleonic collection of death-led monsters and lighter harmonic pieces with piano-dominated and stringed acoustic sections, though it’s also not hard to spot the connection with several of those aforementioned more tech-minded acts. The rhythmic anomalies and ambient texturing are, in fact, key to driving home the heart of the piece. The question is: are you hungry for Mexican? – a trip to their SoundCloud page should give you plenty to chew on.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/02/the-advent-equation-limitless-life-reflections-self-released/

Split-EP Review: Philip H. Anselmo & Warbeast – War of the Gargantuas

2013-02-25T11:16:00.002Z

Phil Anselmo, legendary frontman for bands like Pantera, Superjoint Ritual and Down, can be a bit of an enigma. So often he delivers on every front, yet every now and then you sense one or two weak spots emerging in that brutal vocal of his. Lately, he has been hard at work in the studio with his backing band, The Illegals, polishing off material for his forthcoming solo album and the prospect is sending little ripples of joy through the metal community. This split EP with Warbeast is our first glimpse of what sort of frontman we can expect to hear.

Well, I’m happy to report Anselmo has never sounded angrier or more focused than he does on the 2-chord aggro action of “Conflict”. The break-off into a squirming, panicked attack of chugging guitars and effects is almost too much to bear. It’s certainly not the easiest track to sink your teeth into but face-rippers never are first time around.

The degree of just how narked he is here is clear when he brings those closest to him, his “Family, Friends, and Associates”, into question. It’s a big, grinding Superjoint-esque dirtball of a song based around a deep groove and a vicious line in interrogation – “What colour do you bleed? Is it the same as me?” Oh yes, he may now be going by his full title, but the fire still burns strongly. I think I’ll just call him “Sir” from now on.

His decision to team up with Warbeast is an interesting one. Whilst Anselmo is melting ears, these Texans spend much of their time speeding across the surface. Surprisingly though, it is Warbeast who are the ones who demand repetition more often with their anthemic blasts and fiery crush.

Covered in a crawling tone, “Birth Of A Psycho” is a pure speedball of filth-infused thrash, peppered by short bursts of rich vocal and light-fingered shredding. Listen out for the plunge headfirst into a jarring breakdown, then a mosh as the groove hits hard. “It” is nothing short of genius. The highlight of the split, this monster is mean-spirited, punk-fuelled, smeared in dripping, stinking swamp with a vindictive mania of interlocking strings. Oh, and the hook in the chorus, “Pray for me, for I am Gollum, body without a soul”, is one that will follow you about for a long time after you’ve stopped listening.

Philip H. Anselmo’s old lust for violent metal paired with the new blood of Warbeast offering up riffs to die for. What’s not to love?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/02/philip-h-anselmo-warbeast-war-of-the-gargantuas-season-of-mist/

Interview: Man The Machetes

2013-02-15T15:50:00.002Z

The rise and rise of the Norwegian punk scene, and the media attention it has attracted of late through the furore surrounding a certain band called Kvelertak, has thrown the spotlight in the direction of many new names. One of those, Man The Machetes, are the band responsible for recently making one member of the Ave Noctum team get especially excited (resulting in the award of a 9.5/10 to their debut album Idiokrati). We duly sent him in to the ring to conduct a battle of wits with their lead guitarist, Erlend Sætren.

AN: Firstly, may I just say your debut album is staggeringly good. How would you describe your own style of music?

ES: Thanks, man! Much obliged! As for our style, it’s obviously inspired by a lot of different good shit. Everything from ballsy rock n’ roll à la Hellacopters and Turbonegro, to more punky anthemy bands like Comeback Kid and more metal-ish acts like Cancer Bats. In general, we like to say it’s all about the party tunes and letting out some steam. In short, the energy! We only make music that gives us goosebumps, no matter what kind of music that is! Style-wise, that leaves us with goosebump-inflicting energy – as if that makes sense.

AN: The album title, Idiokrati, is proof enough of how aware you are of your surroundings. What particular social or political factors did you draw on to create the music?

ES: I guess Chris [Iversen], our vocalist, tends to sing about things that make him angry, be it people refusing to give away their seats to old ladies on the bus or stupid politicians wanting to close our borders to everyone but rich jetsets. All in all, unfairness makes us discharge. Still, we’re a somewhat positive bunch, so we feed on fun things as well, like the beauty of playing hardcore music.

AN: Were there any musical genres or bands that you found yourself listening to whilst writing this album?

ES: Yeah, definitely! We went with Eric Ratz as our producer because we love Comeback Kid and Cancer Bats, especially their latest stuff. Apart from that, we were obviously inspired by the Kvelertak record, but also things like Jethro Tull and Rolling Stones. Deftones was there, Rage Against The Machine, Refused. Things like that.

AN: Idiokrati‘s guitars, in particular, stand out. Tell me about the riffs and particular tones you were generally aiming for.

ES: Thanks! Morten [Dischington Carlsson, guitar] is a huge fan of the Rolling Stones, so he’s all about the bluesy stuff as well as the solos. As for myself, I’m more the rhythm dude who brings out the punk riffs. Per [Christian Holm], the drummer, often hums something really melodic and Eric [Andreas Larsen], our bassist, contributes with more sombre black metal stuff. A lot of the songs are in D – we usually play in drop D – which is a sympathetic tone. Our aim for Idiokrati was melodic but hard and intense riffs. That was a challenge to get across on record, because a lot of light stuff on the guitars left a space to be filled in the mix, a space important in making the music rock hard, so the bass was really important to fill that gap. When coming up with riffs, we try all ideas, but only go for what makes us tick. That is, heavy and catchy things.

AN: Although most of the vocals are sung in Norwegian, it sounds like there are a few in English. Is that true and, if so, what was the thinking behind doing that?

ES: Actually, it’s mostly in Norwegian, some words may be in English, like swearing and words that are similar to Norwegian, like “Sudan” and “doomsday”. Ratz really focused on the rhythm and accentuation of the singing, so that might have given an English sound to it. We’d love to be understood lyrically abroad as well; maybe the next record will be in English, but for now we’ll settle with getting across the infamous goosebump-inflicting energy.

AN: What would you say the advantages are in having screamed vocals?

ES: Haha, there’s no hassle with singing in tune! Also, it adds a harder element to the otherwise, at least at times, almost pop-like riffs. A harder and more energetic element, so to say. Not to mention that it leaves room for the melody being conveyed by the guitars and the bass.

AN: Tell me about the track “Mageplask” (which I think translates as “Belly Flop”). That made my Scandinavian friend laugh! Why that particular title and what subject matter does it cover?

ES: You’re right! It means belly flop. The lyrics are about daring to take the next step instead of whining about what one could have had and envying others for whatever they might have. The message is just do it, I guess, but not in the Nike kind of way. “Belly Flop” is a funny title, it is in Norwegian too, but belly flops also hurt a lot. Like the title implies, the song is like a happy-slap in the face. At least that’s what we were going for.

AN: How did you come to choose Steven Pierce for the album artwork? Did you work with him closely on it and did you get the result you wanted?

ES: We were super-happy to work with Steve. He’s so dedicated and wanted to make as good a cover as possible. We tend to be really, really picky with things, and that went for the artwork as well, so he had to change things quite a lot. He always did though, with a smile on his face – we like to think anyway. We heard about him when we played a show in Toronto with Skies Beneath, a bunch of super-cool dudes from Ottawa. They told us about him, showed us some shirts that he had made, and then we just went for it. Even though we haven’t met him face to face, we know he’s a good dude and a skilled artist too. We couldn’t be happier with the artwork. Our initial ideas were challenging, to say the least.

AN: I’ve been watching your studio reports on YouTube. You flew to Toronto, Canada to record. What advantages did you expect to get from doing this as opposed to recording in Norway?

ES: Without wanting to hurt anybody, there’s a totally different level of record-producing in Canada. It’s bigger, in all ways. Sure, you can get a more than decent result in Norway as well, but we wanted that Ratz’ sound; that big and ram-the-wall-like sonic assault. So Canada it was. Besides, they have good burgers there and we got to go on a trip together.

AN: What was it like working with Eric Ratz? Did he have much of an influence on the finished product?

ES: He is a great guy who broke the ice right away. Great humour, that guy. He and Chris ended up speaking dubbed Japanese martial arts movie-language between them. He also encouraged us and made us believe in our music. He gave us a professional and constructive perspective on things, helped us cut off all the dead meat, making things catchier and so on. At the same time, he always listened to us and let us know that we had the last word. He used the word “we” a lot, and we like that; being a team, going for the same goal. We were relieved to know that he would never put his name on something bad, so we gave it our all.

AN: You recorded 10 tracks in 23 days. How intense was the process and did you get a chance to record any other songs?

ES: Pretty intense. We had one day off, we went to see Niagara Falls and the city of Toronto, and then went back into the studio. We were there to record, so that was cool. All our time went into these 10 songs though, recording everything as well as we could, testing different amp sounds and cymbal sounds before deciding on just the right one for the different songs. We actually ended up recording most of the gang vocals the last day, listening through and recording the final intro on “Slagen” just two hours before our plane left. Ratz and his team were really good guys, focused and cool at the same time, making our time in Toronto intense, but also really great. We have a lot of spare vocal things recorded though, but no-one will ever be able to use that. It’s nasty.

AN: From the videos it looks like you still had a blast recording. Tell us, especially, about your love for the fast food restaurant, Five Guys.

ES: Haha, we have some genuine burger-lovers amongst us! But no kidding, those burgers were fantastic! As for the videos, I guess it got to be somewhat of a band joke – always going to Five Guys. We had a blast recording. At nights we relaxed, had some Canadian beer. In the mornings we stopped by Tim Hortons for doughnuts. Haha, I think some of us gained some weight during those days.

AN: What has the feedback from friends, fans and the media on the album been like so far?

ES: A lot of good reviews and some not so good, but that’s life. Putting a record out there is like putting your head on the chopping block, as we say in Norwegian, so it’s been a nervous time. But in the end, we realize that it all comes down to the fact that we’ve given it our all, and that all we want is people listening to our record and hopefully liking what they hear. We’ve had some interest abroad, which is cool, and now we just want to get out there and play for whoever wants to listen – and those who don’t! Back home in Norway as well as in the UK, Europe and other parts of the world. Playing is a huge part of it, showing people what we’re all about live as well as on record.

AN: Right now, heavy Norwegian punk music is getting plenty of worldwide attention. What’s it like being part of the scene at this moment in time?

ES: It’s quite exciting because there are a lot of bands that you can play with, learn from and get inspired by. They make it clear that there’s a place for Norwegian punk rock on the international scene.

AN: You often can be found sharing a stage with your Norwegian peers. You must know each other pretty well by now. Do you ever play tricks on each other and does the drinking ever get out of hand?

ES: We don’t know everybody, but we know some, and they play tricks all the time. We do too – to get revenge. But not only tricks, we also share in singing tribe songs backstage and of course every now and then drink a little bit too much. We haven’t experienced the worst things yet, I guess, like being left behind by the tour van somewhere in the Dutch countryside or something, but it’ll come, surely.

AN: What’s the real story behind your band name?

ES: Haha, tossing a lot of suggestions about, landing on the one which sucked the least! We’ve gone through some terrible ones though, like Mageplask and Sudan. Imagine googling “Sudan”! You’re not going to find out too much about the band, that’s for sure. Besides, MTM has “Machetes” in it, and I and Chris are huge fans of the Blood Brothers’ record “Young Machetes”. We actually came up with the name in Canada, and people there told us it was catchy, and they know their way around, so we went for it. You can shorten it too, which is a cool thing.

AN: Do you guys have a strong work ethic?

ES: Yep. We have to. Because we’re divided between two cities, we all practice by ourselves with metronomes and so on, before getting together at weekends and rehearsing for hours. Playing music is what we want to do, so we have to work hard, and we expect each man to do his part. The songs on the record have gone through a long process, changing, adding, and cutting, to make them as good as we are able to. Of course there are times when we just hang out, doing stupid stuff, but in general, we work quite hard. If people show up on our shows, we want to give them something in return.

AN: What bands did you grow up listening to?

ES: Stuff like Pennywise, Millencollin, Rage Against The Machine, Nine Inch Nails, Refused, Enslaved, Emperor, Turbonegro, Kyuss, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, etc. Good stuff!

AN: What’s your best/worst band experience to date?

ES: We’ve played gigs without being able to hear ourselves. That’s always interesting. We’ve also played venues where we’ve had to sell tickets and do everything ourselves. Not too bad though. We’ve gone on stage with an intro song on the speakers and a lot of smoke onstage, but had to go off again because there was something wrong with the PA. We’ve played in front of one person. Not too bad at all really, just a few minor Spinal Tap moments. I guess we’ve been lucky.

The best experience must be being able to release our debut album. Both the recording and getting to work with Indie Recordings are highlights for us. As for gigs, we’ve played the Hove Festival and the Pstereo, which was cool. We’re hungry for more though.

AN: You’ve nailed your debut album . What are you hoping to achieve next?

ES: Thanks, man! We really appreciate it. Our next goal is to get out there and play our music for as many people at as many places as however possible!

AN: Cheers for answering! Any questions you have for me?

ES: What would you rather choose for your ideal punk concert, pyro or laser show and why? What do you think Norwegian brown cheese is made of?

AN: Pyro, every day of the week. Lasers suck. No self-respecting punk wants to be made to feel like they’re at a 90s rave. And having your face melted off is far cooler than being blinded by stray lasers every couple of minutes! As for Norwegian brown cheese – I’d have to guess it was whiskey or beer-flavoured.

[Actually, brunost or mynost is caramelised cheese – a process that involves boiling the milk, cream and whey until the water evaporates and the milk sugar turns to caramel. A side effect of the process is that it becomes a highly flammable substance as Norwegian firefighters found out when they had to attend a recent tunnel fire that burned for 5 days.]

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/02/interview-man-the-machetes/

Album Review: Blodig Alvor – Mørkets Frembrudd

2013-02-11T13:39:00.000Z

Since Kvelertak’s global success with their debut album, the Norwegian punk scene has become hot property and over the next couple of months we can expect to be inundated with everything from the groovy to the gritty to the downright insane. Last week we got a taste for Man The Machetes, this week Indie Recordings offer us the youthful zest of Blodig Alvor (a band-name that translates into Bloody Serious) and next month we have yet Meir of Kvelertak to look forward to!

If you prefer the less screamy stuff then Blodig Alvor should suit you a little better. The dark guitar strikes and drum-rolling intro of the title track, “Mørkets Frembrudd”, fire into a much more upbeat “Mr. Molotow”. Here, there’s no denying the driving force of the music is that mile-wide, thick wedge of strings that locks in the groove. They piston away under Markus den Outen’s sneers and clarion calls like the proverbial unstoppable force, muddying up the waters nicely.

The music fires out a mixture of MC5 phlegm (evoked in the awesome vocal hook of highlight “Start En Revolusjon”), Hanoi Rocks’ glam, The Subways’ no-nonsense rock simplicity and The Cumshots’ enigmatic swagger (down in the dark recesses of “Solgt Min Sjel”). Put another way, If “Svik” were really a punk he/she would have a mohican and would spend most of their time in a power stance, whilst “Ordets Makt” would sport a skinhead and be either gobbing or showing you a digit. The guitars on the former are either chugging or soloing, whilst the meaner tone and gruff gang chants on the latter imbue it with a gnarly vibe.

There are very little change-ups, most of what you hear in the first track you’ll hear in the last. Sure, there are more gang vocals here, more gapping there, but other than that there’s next to no deviation in pacing or delivery. Small pleasures can be found here or there (in “Vår Resignasjon” where first, Erlend Andersen’s clanging bass gets to step up front, then den Ouden, still channeling his frustrations at society’s failings, steps alone into the spotlight), but overall there is simply way too much that just meanders. It’s a shame because the band show more potential in the closing 30 seconds of acoustic than they do on the whole album.

Of course, even trying to compare a naive, yet honest Blodig Alvor to Norway’s punk starlets Kvelertak would be a little unfair. This music has more in common with their countrymen Oslo Ess’ poppish ska or Blood Command’s driven rock, but if that’s their competition, then being bloody serious about their art might just help them in the long run.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/02/blodig-alvor-morkets-frembrudd-indie-recordings/

Album Review: Man The Machetes – Idiokrati

2013-02-06T12:51:00.001Z

Oh, I love me some punk n’ roll. It’s so gritty and groovy and grimy and great. If you’re not moshing, you’re dancing, and if you’re not dancing you’re drinking! Throw in a viciously roared vocal and I’m in seventh bloody heaven, me. There’s nothing finer than watching a decent punk band sweating themselves dry and then launching their own broken bodies at you. The whole principle of “Give everything, leave nothing” always applies and, yes, that’s infectious, but most importantly, it’s something you can’t help but admire.

Norway’s Man The Machetes, like their fellow countrymen and perennial touring buddies, Kvelertak, have all of the above in spades. Now, even the best live bands have trouble translating these live qualities onto record, it’s a widely-acknowledged problem, so quite how MTM have nailed it first time around is beyond me. There’s no getting around it – Idiokrati (a cheeky reference to the concept of a government run by idiots) is all-but-perfect. It sports a suitably post-apocalyptic black-and-yellow album cover which is certainly going to help this stand out on the shelves. Diggers flattening buildings and a little girl in a gas-mask with a flower and the obligatory machete in hand – these are images, although a little obvious, that should stay with you awhile. Let’s just say you shouldn’t miss it when browsing.

The fiery opener “Sluk Det Rått” (in English, “Eat It Raw”) drives through a pistoning opening foray, before softening into a swaggering roll. Both play along with Christopher Iversen’s wall-of-howl until the band suddenly inject a surge of bass and smother the bastard. This goes at you like an attack dog – ripping bite after bite out of you. There is just no let off from the sonic assault. Album highlight, “Slagen”, is quite possibly the finest thing I’ve heard in years. Best described as a storm of rich, dissonant melody, this takes everything that’s gone before and hones it to a point where the gang chants and short rhythmic pauses for breath create a trigger for the chorus to fire its irresistible hook into your brain – “Down with the slagen!”

The crushing groove that this band generates is like an almighty weight on your chest; its acidic edges bleed into every pore. When listening to this I actually find myself struggling to breathe. It’s a monster. There is no room to think when MTM are laying down. The gunshot snare drum; the menacing sequence of minor chord changes; the harmonics that play around a central key; the crushing riff in “Karma å Brenne” (or “Karma To Burn”) – they all roll around inside your skull, endowed with the same mass as the strongman’s Atlas Stones.

If I was pushed, I would suggest that Man The Machete’s music falls into the gap between Kvelertak and Fucked Up or, in other words, between a rock and a fucking hard place. Additionally, parts of “Maktesløse” (in English, “Powerless”) put me in mind of Skindred’s ragga venom; the vocal delivery and the patterning especially, but only a hundred times more deadly, and there is a fistful of Cancer Bats lurking down in the twisted grooves that the melodies dig out. The big difference here is that Idiokrati washes away the disparate attack and quality of all these bands and replaces their filler with absolute killer.

Some will listen to this and hear too much similarity between tracks, whilst others will sneer at its measly 30-minute running time or, idiotically, balk at the Norwegian content. These people would be missing the point. The over-riding value of this album comes from the way it instantly makes you feel. That factor transcends every other. I haven’t found a moment when I’ve not been energised by Iversen getting his beast on for “Sudan” or the guitars doling out their thick menacing riffs for the homecoming of “Hjemkomst”. Point is, if you want to get pumped and you dig the idea of some scowling, spitting carnage fed through a startlingly melodious selection of strings then you simply have no choice. Man The Machetes want to own your soul and you’d be a fool not to let them have it.

Special thanks go to Swedish Max for his help translating the titles.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/02/man-the-machetes-idiokrati-indie-recordings/

Album Review: The Omega Experiment – The Omega Experiment

2013-01-29T13:00:00.001Z

Recently, a small progressive rock grenade went off on bandcamp. It happened when The Omega Experiment digitally self-released their debut album and, as word spread, Listenable Records’ interest was piqued and a deal was inked. A few months down the line and this Michigan trio are ready for lift-off with this re-released physical copy – it’s about time we gave you the lowdown on it then.

Now, what makes this one stand out about above most is the album’s general tone. It’s an upbeat pastiche of jagged strings and euphoric synths and comes with energy in abundance. At times, you’ll find yourself overwhelmed by it as unconfined joy washes over you in layers. The whole vehicle stands on the strength of its lush, interwoven vocals and recorded spoken interviews – the latter technique reminds me of those ambiguous ripped radio edits that pop up on groovy lounge albums performed by the likes of Lemon Jelly and Bombay Monkey.

Kicking us off, “Gift” hits like a twenty-foot breaker; wide as an aircraft carrier, deep as the ocean itself. The enormity of it is staggering as it echoes through euphoric builds and poppy hooks. It’s instantly reminiscent of the vast soundscapes created by musical genii like Devin Townsend and Jim Matheos (this eloquently echoes his O.S.I. project for many different reasons). Dan Wieten’s multi-tracked, subtly whining vocals search out catchy, flamboyant flourishes and harmonic peaks to really drive home each set of lyrics (all of which are kept deliberately vague to allow you to apply your own assumptions). Through the hearty emotion and crushing drums of tracks like “Stimulus” and “Bliss” they begin to bed down to a place where they echo the rich, complex structures of certain so-called ambidjent bands such as Tesseract, Vildhjarta and Chimp Spanner.

And yet, it’s only in the angrier clutches of “Furor” and “Karma”, at moments when the thudding guitar dissonance steps up to lay it on thick and heavy and the vocal becomes a disembodied roar, that they begin to really display their full potential with some mind-mangling complexity of structure and mean tech skills to boot. Hell, they’re dipping their toes in Between The Buried And Me and The Contortionist territory here. It’s the instrumentals too that offer up a chance to impress but they don’t lay themselves as bare here as expected (we have to wait until the subtle pop spin and gentle psych of “Terminus” for that to occur), but it is here that they are found a little wanting. The jokingly-titled “Tranquility”, with its infuriatingly-repetitive one-liner and cacophonous climax is a weak spot, and “Bliss” which throws two different spoken-word scripts at you, one in one ear and one in the other, turns your brain to blancmange.

It’s not just a clown of an album; it’s the complete circus. There are all sorts of high-wire antics as guitars are juggled and pounding cannons sound off to the tune of the ringmaster. There are even comedic skits where the candied synth tries, unsuccessfully, to steal the spotlight. Then, as the show draws to a close, the thumping dance euphoria of “Paramount” raises the roof and drops like the final piece in the jigsaw. Yes, you can be certain you’ve got your money’s worth with this one.

Album teaser @ their Bandcamp = http://theomegaexperiment.bandcamp.com/track/album-teaser

Review also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/01/the-omega-experiment-st-listenable-records/

Album Review: Funeral For A Friend - Conduit

2013-01-24T11:38:00.003Z

The Welsh band Funeral For A Friend have never been ones to rest on their laurels. Generally accepted as a hard-hitting rock group, they have explored a penchant for the alternative and the emotional, to one that conjures easily-accessible, enigmatic, heart-bursting anthems. Now with Rise To Remain’s old drummer, Pat Lundy, on board, they appear ready to travel the Conduit to locate their inner punk.

Without doubt, it’s an album that still features, to some degree, the band’s driven melody, gorgeously rich harmonies and addictive choruses but there is a definite shift of focus towards metal and hardcore. Vocalist Matthew Davies recently neatly summarised the change with the words “it’s a post-hardcore record that is not afraid to drop into some hardcore for good measure.”

Former band member Matthew “Snowskull” Evans has painted a startling cover for Conduit that is oddly reminiscent, like some of those old Slayer albums or Trey Moseley’s artwork for The Chariot’s One Wing. Rest assured though, FFAF’s songwriting hasn’t gone anything like as deep into the chaos as those particular bands regularly do. Despite Davies’ assertions, these additions to the music do feel somewhat forced at times – initially, you may wince at the irksome slips from boisterous verse into slick chorus (lead single “Best Friends and Hospital Beds” and “Travelled” are in a league of their own), but ignoring this, it’s still a clear statement of intent and one that does need multiple plays before sound judgement can be passed.

They certainly don’t go off half-cocked at this crossover monster – even their usually high-end production has trimmed a little off the sides to make way for the added gristle. It’s a full-bore attempt to interweave both their rough and smooth edges and when they manage to segue the two styles effectively the songs can invigorate you. Some go in harder (bruisers like the title-track, “Death Comes To Us All” and “High Castles”), but there’s still plenty of rousing sing-a-long choruses to grab onto. They come thick and fast with “Spine”, “Best Friends…” and “Nails” all liberally doused in colourful, soaring harmonies. What the contrast has highlighted is the minor limitations of Davies’ vocal. There’s no denying his passion, but every now and then, when he peaks and reaches up to hawk out another yelp of anger, his pitch and tone become painfully strained – as an example, the line “How many friends can I lose before it all makes sense” catches him out every single time.

Thankfully, the complex, technical guitar melodics do help to bolster this weakness in his delivery. They form the kind of backdrops that Sylosis would be proud of. One particularly memorable example lies in the jarringly-angular closing segment of “Nails”. The gentle build, tight-as-fuck chorus and crushing ‘core elements are all implemented magnificently. It’s these multiple hues that stick it on a pedestal.

As you journey through, there emerges a noticeable overall lack of track variation but it’s hard to deny the momentum that FFAF build throughout. You do have to wait for “Elements” to provide the deviation the album craves. It really would be the perfect closing track; not overstaying its welcome and melodically-enduring with a gently warbling fade-out. Well, it would be, except that the Hatebreed-lite metalcore tactics of “High Castles” take the honour – “Our words are weapons, they are our shield, our words are weapons, fist by fucking fist” – with over-eager call-and response chicanery.

Having screamed back from the edge of the creative abyss with 2011′s cracking Welcome Home Armageddon, to head back to their EP days and begin re-establishing their love of punk and hardcore makes Conduit a risky album for FFAF to write at this moment in time. Even more so, when you consider just how much metalcore influence there is on this and how much that particular genre has taken a battering over recent years. Thankfully, none of that matters much. There is just enough true grit and spirit powering this offering to really warrant that risk. Conduit is a whole different beast but, most importantly, it’s an album that’s honest and committed and deserving of your attention.

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/funeral-for-a-friend-conduit

Album Review: Psychopunch - Smakk Valley

2013-01-21T13:31:00.000Z

Psychopunch’s Smakk Valley may sound venemous and slightly seedy, but it’s actually all rolling punk with pop sensibilities. A set of driven tracks, coated in colour and bolstered with a strong sense of fun. An amalgamation of Green Day, The Wildhearts, The Ramones and Bowling For Soup, it comes as no surprise to me that these Swedish stalwarts have remained below my radar despite the nine other albums they’ve churned out between 1999 and 2010. Sounding a little old hat now, much of what they do sticks firmly to the power-pop basics of get in fast, raise the roof, and get out.

With 14 tracks of fast rhythms, verse-chorus-verse structure, predictably simple lyrics and straight-up 4/4 beats, what you see is what you get. Vocally, frontman / guitarist JM certainly gets plenty of backing, both in the polished production and from his band-mates who lather on a swathe of “oohs” and “aahs”. This has always been the kind of music best heard live, so it feels slightly unfair judging them from the depths of my cold, mid-Winter abode. I’ll try and be gentle.

They all kick off the show by getting fast and wild for “Back Of My Car”. It’s a track that toys with going full-Nirvana on us with a sequence of “Territorial Pissings”-chords for the verse, only to then cut the charade and shift into full Bowling For Soup mode. There’s a slide down into half-reggae for “So Jaded” that will make you smile, but from here they slip straight into auto-pilot with a sequence of songs that battle each other for worst lyrics and most obvious structure. The medium-pacer “Last Night” wins the former category with the line “Last night it really wasn’t me / I had too much to drink / Baby, can’t you see / It was the Hennessy” and “Sitting By The Railroad” wins the latter with its ghastly backing vocals and dire four-chord rotation.

Their creative peak hits somewhere in the middle. JM’s thick, throaty growl cuts up superbly for the heads-down rocker “Dead By Dawn” giving it a dangerous, Ramones-esque edge. All worn leather and cigarettes, howling guitars and pounding skins, this one breathes life back into the whole shebang. “Smack Valley Train” gets its New York Dolls-snarl on in the verses before flicking up into a bold major chord for another over-eager, slickly fluorescent chorus. The bridge interestingly gets a dose of Maiden-esque guitar licks to add to the pile whilst “Emilie” ducks back into brainless hammering and off we go again for another round of pogoing. Closer “You’re Totally Mistaken” ups the ante again and stands out as a bit of a moody crusher, soaking itself in feedback, with deep pinged bass and a ripped, singalong chorus – Psychopunch are a band that definitely benefits from throwing in minor chords. Each time they up their dark quotient, they add guile and emotion to what, effectively, is an album that runs straight and true.

Now, this constructive criticism is all well and good at the end of the day but what has impressed me most about the band is their philosophy. It dominates everything here and this is the reason you need to take notice of because there are so many fakers out there. JM sums it up with the words: “We don’t think our attitude has changed over the years in terms of wanting to be a great live band that makes people happy and gives them a chance to forget about their problems.” How can you criticise a band with that outlook on making music? It’s like happy-slapping a puppy.

End of the day, Smakk Valley isn’t an album without fault but that doesn’t mean it’s not a riot – it could be gold dust for fans of any of the aforementioned bands. Perhaps it wasn’t my cup of Joe this week, but the next time I feel like letting loose and partying hearty, I’ll be checking my local listings for a band called Psychopunch because I know I’ll have a good time at their show.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/01/psychopunch-smakk-valley-spv-steamhammer/

News: Hell Comes Home 7" Series

2013-01-17T15:48:00.003Z

Never has anything needed your attention as much as this stunning series of 7" splits. If you can't find a band to cherish on this little lot, you need your head examining.

Here's the lowdown...

Hell Comes Home's split series simply titled "Volume 1", is now complete and available for purchase as a limited edition box-set. This collection of new and unreleased music, includes 12 splits 7" released in 2012 individually or as part of a subscription club.
Each 7" has been beautifully illustrated by Kuba Sokolski (www.kubasokolski.com).

VOLUME 1 includes:
HCH-001 - Kowloon Walled City (US) / Thou (US) split 7"
HCH-002 - Suma (SE) / Ultraphallus (BE) split 7"
HCH-003 - Dephosphorus (GR) / Great Falls (US) split 7"
HCH-004 - Akaname (AU) / Lesbian's Fungal Abyss (US) split 7"
HCH-005 - Pyramido (SE) / Union Of Sleep (DE) split 7"
HCH-006 - Burning Love (CA) / Fight Amp (US) split 7"
HCH-007 - Coffinworm (US) / Fistula (US) split 7"
HCH-008 - The Swan King (US) / Tellusian (SE) split 7"
HCH-009 - Dukatalon (ISR) / Rites (IRL) split 7"
HCH-010 - Black Sun (UK) / Throat (FI) split 7"
HCH-011 - Dopefight (UK) / The Fucking Wrath (US) split 7"
HCH-012 - Dead Elephant (IT) / Rabbits (US) split 7"

Website: http://www.hellcomeshome.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Hell.Comes.Home.Records
Twitter: http://twitter.com/hellcomesnow
Bandcamp: http://hellcomeshome.bandcamp.com
Soundcloud: http://www.soundcloud.com/hellcomeshome

Album Review: Hatebreed – The Divinity Of Purpose

2013-01-11T09:13:00.001Z

Once upon a time, whilst walking through a park, a good friend of mine was hassled by a drunk youth for money. Now, usually my mate would run a mile but, at the time, he happened to be listening to Hatebreed on his non-specific portable media player, so instead he proceeded to wind the volume up and dish out a beating that he never thought was in him. He’s sworn himself off the band now and has since become a pacifist. Okay, the last bit of that shaggy dog story was made up (he’s still a total nutjob who loves Hatebreed more than he loves himself – and that’s saying something), but it is a true, if slightly skewed, tale that highlights just how affecting heavy music can be.

Perfectly monikered, the volatile tunage that Hatebreed write, has been specifically designed to breed hate. Unsurprisingly, The Divinity Of Purpose is no different to the rest of their back catalogue, featuring lyrical content that shows these kings of bulging angst remain 100% dedicated to grabbing hold of you by the balls, tearing open your eyes to the grim reality of life today, and strengthening your resolve to it. Think of it as a two-part process. Firstly, they help you realise your weaknesses through association and, secondly, they supply the lyrical tools to empower you by suggesting you use, usually violent, counter-measures to correct your problems. Listening to Hatebreed is like having “Stone Cold” Steve Austin as your counsellor.

As time has passed and their discography has grown, these continual mind grenades should have got a lot older, a lot quicker, but the monster hooks they write and the methods they employ to suck you in, are just so goddamn addictive. From jinking breakdowns and barbaric, pounding rhythms to the vocal fury of call-and-response and the constant, monotonous barracking all suck you into screaming your lungs out, fist-throwing and pitting like you’ve never pitted before.

Take opener “Put It To The Torch” with its thrash-and-core, vein-bulging angst. It’s a simple, 2-minute assertion of dominance designed to incite total mayhem. The track rips straight through to the even harder smackdown of “Honor Never Dies” with hardly a pause for breath. The emotional forethought of how these songs would sound live is palpable. Take the chorus repetition of the purposeful title-track. There’s even a spoken-to-screamed building crescendo wedged in there. The fury of the pit that will explode on the smack of that snare as it all kicks off again is palpable. “Before The Fight Ends You” could have been written with my mate specifically in mind. It’s all remarkably straightforward and to the point with a chorus of “End the fight / Before the fight ends you!”, but that’s Hatebreed all over. And that’s The Divinity Of Purpose all over.

Unlike their last self-titled effort, there is no drop in pace, no “Every Lasting Scar” downtime. Without doubt, the album does what it says on the tin. It’s a savage, single-minded entity. The Renaissance-stylized artwork alone (created by painter Eliran Kantor) tells you just how serious they are about this merciless mission they are on. This is their religion and that’s the main reason why this comes recommended as one of their finer assaults. Having said that, the album’s main strength is also its biggest weakness. The sheer brute force of it is overwhelmingly predictable; one that lacks any level of sophistication or experimentation. Yes, perhaps with this album marking out Hatebreed’s 19th year, they should have offered something fresh, but to go against the grain now, not fully committed, and get it wrong might just ruin their iconic status – then who would my friend turn to when life deals him yet another shitty hand?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/01/hatebreed-the-divinity-of-purpose-nuclear-blast/

Album Review: Clamfight – I Versus The Glacier

2013-01-09T11:21:00.000Z

You might think Clamfight would be named by a collection of mollusk-loving foodies, but I fear their name comes from something far more seedy. The revelation that “the name was conceived whilst watching an influential movie” isn’t a complete surprise then, nor the tit-bit about them not wanting to “get into which movie or what scene”. I bet they don’t, dirty boys.

These East Coast crushers display all the hallmarks of both High On Fire’s shouty, sludgy, all-encompassing thrum and Saviours’ punk quirks and strong urge to break into galloping rhythms. It’s a hefty combination and one that deserves the good head-jerking that you will inevitably grant it. As is the case with both the aforementioned bands, Andy Martin’s wild vocals often gets a good smothering and as a consequence the lyrical content is often tough to pick out – I believe “I vs. The Glacier” has a peek-a-boo line that sounds like “Winners for years” or it could be “Witness four ears”. Your guess is as good as mine. It does however feature an enigmatic, visceral lead and a spot of downtime that wobbles and howls as it plays its psychedelic mind games.

“The Eagle” is pure riff; crushing, vitriolic and Neanderthal. It is the beast that will carve a mile-wide rut across your mind, whilst “Sandriders” thunders along at a fair lick, the vocals snapping at your heels, the drums’ reverberating thunder, the whole vehicle careering from side to side before slipping back into a swagger. “River Of Ice”, on the other hand, steadily chimes along a single chord, pulses like a heartbeat and features some neat, warbling cosmic touches. Every element, including that nagging underscore, all scream out Mastodon. These tracks are all hefty statements of intent; slaps of the glove across the cheeks of their peers.

Other highlights come in the form of the rock-a-saurus mosh of “I vs. The Glacier” and the much angrier blast of “Shadow Line”. This latter monster displays Bison B C’s tendency to stray mid-song – part-groove, part-braying, roaring insanity – it’s also the sound of Motorhead’s Lemmy being trampled underfoot. There’s the odd weak spot, glaringly the odd instrumental “Tower Of The Elephant II” (named “The Green Gods Of Yag” on this promo) which adds very little to the pile, but you couldn’t really accuse them of using it to pad out the album because of the variety of attack on offer.

Also, I haven’t seen an album with such an intriguing tracklist as this in a long time. Seriously, run your eyes down that list. Even before you’ve heard it you just know “Age Of Reptiles” is going to sound swampy, stompy and like its full of teeth (it does) and “Stealing The Ghost Horse” will undoubtedly get its blackened doom on (it does, in a Crowbar-y sort of way). All the song titles get the mind racing, conjuring enough images to demand further investigation. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to eventually get hold of a lyric sheet. All that remains to be said is… you’d better have your flamethrowers at the ready, folks. This is one mean opponent. I Versus The Glacier – Round One. Ding ding!

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/clamfight-i-versus-the-glacier