MetalSucks

Former Godflesh/current Jesu mastermind Justin Broadrick has a Twitter account. Now while this could be troublesome/groanworthy news for some characters prone to oversharing (though certainly not in Metal Sucks’ case), for Broadrick, it seems fitting, given his prolific approach to music. His output is measured in months, not years, as is the case with most bands. To look at Jesu in its own timeline yields a recent string of iffy releases, like the band’s extremely boring split with Eluvium (repackaged as the Why We Are Not Perfect EP), and two so-so contributions to splits with Envy and Battle of Mice (though so-so in the most literal sense of the phrase, in that each split contained one song that was meandering and seemingly pointless, and one that stood among the best Broadrick has done under the Jesu moniker). However, to look at it in a regular spectrum, that was only 2008; one only needs to reach back to 2007 to find the magnificent full length Conqueror, still in the typical two year gap most artists have between records.

But in JB Time, this is an eternity. One may wonder if the man had knocked himself off kilter, that if Jesu’s best days were behind them. But with Justin Broadrick’s work with beard metal supergroup Greymachine and two releases with Jesu this year, he proves that at the very least has more interesting things to say, if not still capable of putting out the band’s best material in the future. Don’t call it a comeback, because, well, it isn’t. But when those slow, chunky chords first make their appearance on the Infinity full length or that Cure-on-a-7-string beauty rears its head on “Deflated” (off the Opiate Sun EP), it’s immediately clear that the Jesu magic is still there, and that while Justin is prone to get lost in the wilderness, he’s usually on his way back, often times a few months later.

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The metal community has been using the phrase “It’s their best album since…” a lot as of late. As though spurred on by the nineteen year old kids who now play the music they created better than they do, the Elder Statesmen of Thrash – or EST – have been enjoying a renaissance.

But here’s what sets Slayer apart from the pack: while you could certainly say that “World Painted Blood is Slayer’s best album since Season in the Abyss” and be telling truth, you could have said “It’s their best album since Seasons in the Abyss” about any album since Diabolus in Musica and been telling the truth. Slayer didn’t only just recently get awesome again – they really never stopped being awesome, despite what the scene snobs might have you believe.

But World Painted Blood finds Slayer sounding even more like the band that created the Holy Trinity than Christ Illusion did, so people are even more excited about than they were about that last offering. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

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MS Maniac Edward Wilfred is digging the new stuff from NYC black metallers Krallice. Says he:

First I want to thank you guys for turning me on to this band in the first place.  They are definitely one of the greatest black metal bands I have ever listened to. But anyways, they have a new track up on their myspace and apparently a new album is coming out november 10!!!!!  Hurry up and post the news so the rest of the metal world can jizz over the news!!

You’re welcome for the introduction, Edward. But I’m going to have to disagree with your assertion that they are one of the greatest black metal bands ever (”that you’ve listened to”… ok, maybe).

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Pelican’s 2007 album, City of Echoes, was maligned by some upon its release, perhaps because of its penchant for shorter songs and Fugazian guitar interplay after the majesty of 2005’s The Fire in Our Throats Will Beckon the Thaw, an album full of epic-length tracks and panoramic sludge/doom riffs. The problem with this train of thought, of course, is that while City wasn’t as good as Beckon, it certainly wasn’t a bad album. The record, if anything, completely sidestepped Pelican’s biggest flaw: their occasional tendency to, in a longer song, circle around an interesting point without actually making it. Of course, gone were cinematic broad strokes of some of their best work. If only there were a way where they could combine reasonable song length with the evocative riff work the band are known for.

Luckily, they have found a way, and their latest album, What We All Come to Need, is nothing but that. While you won’t hear anything as heavy as “Mammoth” off their debut EP or as expansive as Beckon’s “Autumn into Winter,” their new album finds them both imaginative and self-aware. But even though they have a seemingly newfound sense of editing, WWACTN still features all the same trademarks that have made them great from the beginning: sinewy, heavy guitars; Larry Herweg’s workmanlike drumming (still a divisive part of the band); and absolutely no vocals (well, except on the last track, where there are). Whether you gave up on Pelican after City of Echoes or not, their new album features what they do best: telling stories in such a way that, after a song or two, you forget are without words.

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Dead on arrival.

(1 ½ out of 5 horns)

-GS

[Gary Suarez welcomes your constructive criticism. He usually manages the consistently off-topic No Yoko No. Say, why don't you follow him on Twitter?]

I miss grunge, and if you read my posts with any regularity that should come as no surprise. Now far too many people dismiss the dormant genre for its commercial successes, or even because of a reviled legacy that yielded such aural abominations as Puddle Of Mudd and Staind. Yet the Pacific Northwest in the late 80s and early-mid 90s had so many exciting and delightfully disgusting artists that made truly grungy music while never selling out stadiums, artists like Green River and Tad. I would argue that we need to factor in the descendants of these artists before passing any final sweeping negative judgment of the so-called Seattle sound. Thankfully, the orallly-fixated Food and Moutheater help to counter the Seattle sound’s unwarranted bad rep.

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Contrasting with the unsettling amount of mind-numbing sonic uniformity dominant in today’s American hardcore scene, San Diego’s Lewd Acts offer a much needed corrective, as made so evident with Black Eye Blues, their new album for Jacob Bannon’s Deathwish Inc. imprint. Sure, the band serve up enough uptempo cuts to fuel the savagely vibrant circle pits we’ve all come to expect at hardcore shows, be they at recreation centers, dive bars, or mid-sized general admission concert venues. Yet as with labelmates Narrows, Lewd Acts infuses creative growth and artistic progression into a genre largely categorized by its ironic stagnancy.

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In 2009, it seems the best way to make innovative death metal is to not employ slams. After the dozens of avenues the genre has gone down – melodic, brutal, blackened, thrashy, numerous combinations of those, and so on – old is new again, and after a few years of interchangeable breakdown-prone ‘core enthusiasts, death metal’s scraggly faithful are more interested in hearing the genre done well as opposed to yet another “What if we combined THIS with death metal?!” band. Of course, revisiting can lead to rehashing incredibly easily (see: thrash revival), and the best of those invested in the past know that there’s a certain energy that needs to be pumped into it in order to give it purpose. Smite the Righteous, a melodic death/thrash collective from Massachusetts, waver on the revisit-rehash line, stumbling onto either side throughout the course of their debut full length The Thirst for Violence. But in its best moments it displays a looseness and a vested interest sorely missing from death metal’s crop of regurgitaters. Though still rough around the edges, the band seem to get it a lot more than some.

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Los Angeles psychedelic-doom drivers Ancestors are already back with another new album after last year’s acclaimed two track debut Neptune With Fire, and this time around they’re  arguably even more ambitious. On the eight track Of Sound Mind, the band expands their scope and continues their doom-laden trip down nostalgia lane, with plenty of prog rock inspirations. And lots of guitars.

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An initial impression of Axe to Fall, Converge’s latest bruiser, is that it’s a little too simplistic: the vast majority of the album find the band rocking more balls out than they have since their early days. Even “Worms Will Feed” and “Damages,” two slower tracks, feel more like uneasy breathing room than the expansive, emotional dalliances of You Fail Me’s “In Her Shadow” or No Heroes’ “Grim Rose/Black Heart.” Even despite Axe to Fall’s two further-out-than-ever-before closing songs, the majority of the album feels slight, missing a key element of what had made the band as exceptional as they are up until now. With No Heroes finding the band at once at their grindiest and most experimental, something about Axe to Fall feels empty.

Of course, initial impressions don’t do a Converge album justice; if the band are known for anything, it’s marrying the deceptively simple and the brilliantly complex. Despite its tendency to be more gruff than any modern Converge release, Axe to Fall features some of the band’s tightest, most interesting songwriting, as well as providing one of the most satisfying repeat listens of any Converge album. Compact but alarmingly dense, the band have never been this comfortable putting their heads down and charging at you, with a relentlessness that’s almost militaristic in its approach. More than just a bunch of throw-aways before its wildly expansive ending, Axe to Fall stands eye level with their genre-defining full length debut (Petitioning the Empty Sky) or their genre-shattering masterpiece (Jane Doe). Though foolish and cynical to think otherwise, the band are still as good as they’ve ever been, with no signs of coasting despite having been around exponentially longer than most of the hardcore bands they came up with.

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No other black metal band better typifies the genre’s silliness than Immortal. While most of their True Norwegian ilk left their corpsepaint at home almost a decade ago, the band have stuck to their guns (and battle axes), not letting a silly thing like aging stop them from posing for promo photos and playing shows shirtless and done up like a Hungarian KISS knockoff. And while Darkthrone cornered the market on the angry-banshee/bad-production black metal market, Immortal laid claim to the running-around-the-forest-ominously brand. Though I understand the significance of black metal’s silly image (well, at least I like to think I do), I’ve always thought of it as a shame that Immortal have allowed themselves to be so governed by their absurd appearance when their music, for the most part, has been so fucking righteous. Though they’ve fumbled through some of black metal’s typical snags– vague anti-Semitism (the title of Pure Holocaust), riff salad with a side of murky production (Blizzard Beasts), and not to mention having the majority of their lyrical content be based on a mythical land called Blashyrkh– they’ve also contributed some of the most solid, riff-heavy material the genre has produced. And even despite a seven year absence between 2002’s Sons of Northern Darkness and now, the band are still top notch, schooling both their tired peers and frostbitten newbies with their massive, excellent new album All Shall Fall. Though one would be silly to deride you for thinking the band is ridiculous– the unintentionally homoerotic covers of Battles in the North and the aforementioned Blizzard Beasts were most likely made by dudes unaware of camp or kitsch– one would also be remiss not to point out that you’re missing some of the best stuff black metal has to offer.

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Only history will tell us for sure, but I suspect that The Red Chord’s 2002 debut, Fused Together in Revolving Doors, will end up being regarded as one of the most influential metal records of its time. Its title is truly appropriate; it’s not a death album, it’s not a grind album, it’s not a hardcore album, it’s basically just a “play whatever the fuck we want album.” There are now hordes of bands aping it, and most of them are doing a shit job.

Meanwhile, three albums, seven years, and a whole bunch of line-up changes later, The Red Chord are just as uncompromising and self-assured in their vision. I have no idea what a teeth machine is – apparently it has something to do with zippers – but Fed Through the Teeth Machine certainly makes me feel as though that’s exactly what I’ve experienced.

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Ever wish there was music that could duplicate the feeling of a throbbing migraine?

I hate The Reel, the new album from Vampire Mooose, so much that I actually went back and re-listened to their last album, Serenade the Samurai, just to make sure it holds up. That’s not a great album by any means, but it is a good one – thirty-five minutes of really ugly melodic death metal fueled by elephants-marching metalcore riffs at their finest. You might forget about it a couple of days after you get it, but Samurai is a totally solid album. I could see that version of Vampire Mooose playing a show with Gojira. They might get blown off the stage, but they’d be there and they wouldn’t get booed.

The Reel is just a boring as fuck, paint-by-numbers deathcore album. It’s “heavier” than Samurai, I guess, but that doesn’t negate the fact that it sucks. Every song here could be by any number of the forgettable unsigned bands that we so crudely make fun of on this very website.

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If that headline means anything to you, you’ll probably like this record.

(three out of five horns)

-AR

I’m gonna keep this short n’ sweet, because we’ve already expressed many times how much we love this album. But if a few of you need some graphics of horns to really convince you to go out and buy this thing, so be it.

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Skeletonwitch has been a welcome anomaly these past few years. Amidst a resurgence of thrash and 80s throwback nostalgia, the band managed to stand head and shoulders above most emerging, like-minded acts, no doubt many thanks to their inclusion of equal parts thrash, N.W.O.B.H.M. melody, black metal vocals and Nordic nods in the quintet’s riffing and tempos. Breathing the Fire, their new Prosthetic Records release, further codifies these styles and influences, and confirms The ‘Witch’s music as both original and refreshing.

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If the only thing I got from Beasts Among Sheep was a newfound respect for Javelina’s biggest influence, the defunct sludge-punk troupe Buzzov*en, that would be enough for major props-giving. But hot damn, does this Philly band have a lot of other stuff going for them. Least of which is that they’re easy to believe. There’s no polish to Beasts Among Sheep, no foundation for artifice, just eight tracks of mud-caked riffs and cantankerous dispositions. Producer Sanford Parker gives the album that first-take raw vibe that this kind of light-on-subtlety metal requires.

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Philosopher and academic Paul Hegarty began his 2007 tome Noise/Music: A History with the following description: “Noise is not an objective fact. It occurs in relation to perception–both direct (sensory) and according to presumptions made by an individual… Whether noise is happening or not will depend on the source of what is being called noise–who the producer is, when and where, and how it impinges on the perceiver of noise.” Such a definition is necessary in order to reasonably assess Chicago-based deathcore act Oceano.

While heavy metal has previously been appropriated–and, arguably, misappropriated–by artistic outsiders with agendas and ideologies, alongside nostalgic or even fetishistic sentiments, deathcore is a rare internal and naturally occurring movement that adopts the typically academic precepts of noise music inadvertently and almost entirely by chance. Indeed, as a subgenre, it is intolerable to most self-described heavy metal fans. It is safe to posit, given the lineup’s youth (at least one member is apparently still below the legal drinking age), that Oceano (and their deathcore ilk) are wholly unaware of and uninitiated in the legacy of noise that came before them, beginning with the Futurists and Dadaists of the early 20th century, continuing with the Fluxus artists of the 1960s and the avant-jazz musicians of the 1970s, and ultimately exploding worldwide in the latter fifth of the 1900s with performers like Merzbow and Lustmord paving the way for today’s stars like Christian Fennesz and Stephen O’Malley. It is a testament to Oceano that a manifestation of their talent for noise emerges even as they genuinely attempted to write an album’s worth of listenable heavy metal songs.

Frontman Adam Warren honors the vocal tradition of Yoko Ono (a participant in Fluxus even prior to her marriage and music with John Lennon) as much as he does Chuck Schuldiner. On “Slaughtered Like Swine,” Warren reproduces a stunning approximation of a porcine squeal. “Empathy For Leviathan” ostensibly mines the pelagic and oceanographic themes suggested by the band’s name and album title, though its lyrics are so inscrutably delivered that they could have very well been recorded underwater. Tracks like “With Legions” and “Samael The Destroyer” involuntarily lampoon heavy metal conventions with gratuitous noodling and tempo shifts, the latter of these permitting Jason Jones a three second bass solo. Oceano sound their best on “District Of Misery,” where the cacophony rarely lets up over its three minute duration. Here, bestial braying, irritatingly ticking drums, and insufferable low-end dominate, ending with the sound of an exploding septic system.

My sole, albeit minor criticism of the otherwise irreproachable Depths pertains to its six-and-a-half minute long title track. This melodiously repetitive, comparably exoteric diversion–perhaps an unconscious nod to the early looping experiments of Pierre Henry or Karlheinz Stockhausen– both well meaning though ill-advised and should be chalked up to the occasionally misguided ambitions of youth. I won’t posture as a seasoned deathcore aficionado, and I’d postulate that some of the more experienced fans of the subgenre may be disinclined to agree with my ebullient assessment of Oceano, perhaps favoring antecedants such as Suicide Silence and Whitechapel. Even still, Oceano’s Depths delivers on the promise of its title and offers an immersing aural experience for fans of La Monte Young and Job For A Cowboy alike.

In his aforementioned book, Professor Hegarty not only chronicled the role of noise in 20th and 21st century sound but also adumbrated a “future culture” based in some measure upon it. Going forward, I cannot possibly any credibly anthropological survey of such a culture without reference to Oceano, the undoubtedly reluctant new aesthetic leaders of noise.

(5 out of 5 horns)

-GS

[Gary Suarez is serious. He usually manages the consistently off-topic No Yoko No. Say, why don't you follow him on Twitter?]

The hype around Congregation of the Damned is that it’s a return to Atreyu’s older metalcore (excuse me, “metallic rock”) outings. This is bullshit. Congregation is another ham fisted arena rock failure posing as one of Atreyu’s metalcore albums.

Now, inevitably, some punk is gonna come around here and say “Atreyu’s sound could never stay the same forever, and why would they want it to, and blah blah blah, pee.” To which I say: well, I’m not the one going around telling people this album is going to sound nothing like Lead Sails and a Plug-in Vagina. The dudes from Atreyu are.

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The notion of a remix album is a strange one. First of all, what purpose do they serve – to provide intriguing reinterpretations of their catalog, or to throw a bone to fans hungry for a new album? Secondly, are remixes to be judged on their own merits as songs, or do they need to be permanently attached to their point of origin? Third of all, what in the fuck IS a remix, exactly? In the hip-hop community, it’s the same backing track with a slew of different rappers of wildly varying quality contributing new verses along with the original artist. In the pop world, it’s the original song with a throbbing nightclub beat thrown underneath. In the metal world, it’s a weird prospect: it’s either a collection of ambient, noise, or ambient/noise pieces built upon the tiniest shred of the source material, or a rearranging of the original tracks into a violent, messy reimagining (For the latter, see Justin Broadrick’s take on Isis’ “Hym” for how it can be done well, and his take on Pantera’s “Fucking Hostile” to see how it can be done horribly). Needless to say, metal remix albums tend to be geared toward metalheads with noise sympathies or strictly for fans only, if not both. The Melvins’ new remix collection, Chicken Switch, appears to fall into both, but actually falls pretty hard into the latter. Those in search of a worthwhile remix album should probably ignore this one.

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