I’ll admit, I’m a huge metalhead (well, I am 6’2” and I have trouble
getting caps to fit, but that’s another story). Steve Hughes has made
major waves in the global comedy community as the straight-talking,
logic-twisting Heavy Metal comedian. This acclaim shows, he nearly
sold-out the main room at Melbourne Town Hall.
Read more at The Pun.
Showing posts with label criticism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label criticism. Show all posts
16.4.12
Live Review: Brenna Courtney Glazebrook presents More Than This (The Pun)
Is there More Than This? Brenna Glazebrook wasn’t convinced a
few short years ago. Staring heartbreak and paucity square in the face,
she moved to spider-infested Sydney to start anew. This provides the
inspiration for a comically solid fifty minute trip into Glazebrook’s
life over the last couple of years. Accompanied by her “Swedish Paul
Shaffer” Maya, the iTunes Enter-key presser sat to the side of the
compact Spleen Bar stage.
Read the rest at The Pun.
Read the rest at The Pun.
14.4.12
Live Review: Who Killed John Bearington III? (The Pun)
In an unceremonious alleyway, borderline sociopath, racist and
philandering billionaire John Bearington the Third lies dead. This
‘muppet-noir’ stares Dylan Cole as the slick-talking,
dressed-to-the-nines Detective Cole Feltz (the only human with a
speaking part). We watch as he interrogates five likely muppet suspects
who all had their respective gripes with the darkly departed Bearington.
Read the rest at The Pun.
Read the rest at The Pun.
13.4.12
Live Review: Lessons with Luis – Luis Presents: Kidney Kingdom (The Pun)
Out of the way and next to the Yarra, Signal is a simple venue fitted
for the simple lessons from a wide-eyed boy named Luis. Luis and co are
embarking on an adventure to the Kidney Kingdom (riffing off of the
Wizard of Oz) to find his kindly father a new kidney.
Read the rest of the review which was featured at The Pun.
Read the rest of the review which was featured at The Pun.
11.4.12
Review: Barren Earth - The Devil's Resolve (The Big Issue)
10.4.12
Live Review: Michael Chamberlin - Joy & Despair (The Pun)
By his own admission, Michael Chamberlin lives in a constant state of
either joy or despair – no grey areas to be found in his life of
loneliness, bewilderment and often crippling neuroses. A screenwriter by
trade, Michael has written for Skithouse, Rove Live and Adam Hills in Gordon St. Tonight, and
has even lent words to the legendary John Cleese. A veteran comedy
writer and stand-up comic, Chamberlin has won acclaim far and wide for
the last decade, but it seems that his dream joyride has now run into a
wall built by despair.
Read the rest as well as many more 2012 MICF reviews at The Pun.
Read the rest as well as many more 2012 MICF reviews at The Pun.
8.3.12
Live Review: Slipknot w/ Trivium at Rod Laver Arena (Metal as Fuck)
I felt a certain sickly dripping on the end of my nose on Thursday
night. Grey blanketed the skies above. I’d seen about three shows in as
many days, slumber in short supply while working a day job to pay the
bills. Worst of all, my fucking (handsome, charming and ever so
intelligent) editor sent me to review Trivium and god damn Slipknot of all of the bands on the Soundwave tour, scowling in the knowledge that my beloved Paradise Lost was playing their sideshow a mere five minute walk down the road.
Bollocks.
Find out if I actually enjoyed myself or not at Metal as Fuck.
Bollocks.
Find out if I actually enjoyed myself or not at Metal as Fuck.
7.3.12
Live Review: Devin Townsend Project and Meshuggah w/ dredg at the Forum Theatre (Metal as Fuck)
Devin Townsend and his project played unforgettably at the Forum Theatre
on that Thursday night. Meshuggah and dredg on the other
hand...well...funny you mention them...
Stuck in horrendous Melbourne traffic, I missed dredg much to my annoyance. Having been a fan of their Catch Without Arms record, I was relishing the opportunity to see them in an intimate club setting prior to my Soundwave adventure due in a couple of days. Alas, I was just pipped by the line which had snaked its way back behind the dingy alleyway of the Forum Theatre, much in contrast to the classical opulence of its facade and interior (Read more about the decor of the Forum here, if you’re into that sort of thing.) One newbie approached me and asked, “Is this the line for Devin Townsend?” How did the legion of metalheads not give it away? It was either that, or his name emblazoned above the door?
Find out why I forgot all about Meshuggah during their own show at Metal as Fuck.
Stuck in horrendous Melbourne traffic, I missed dredg much to my annoyance. Having been a fan of their Catch Without Arms record, I was relishing the opportunity to see them in an intimate club setting prior to my Soundwave adventure due in a couple of days. Alas, I was just pipped by the line which had snaked its way back behind the dingy alleyway of the Forum Theatre, much in contrast to the classical opulence of its facade and interior (Read more about the decor of the Forum here, if you’re into that sort of thing.) One newbie approached me and asked, “Is this the line for Devin Townsend?” How did the legion of metalheads not give it away? It was either that, or his name emblazoned above the door?
Find out why I forgot all about Meshuggah during their own show at Metal as Fuck.
6.3.12
Live Review: Melbourne Soundwave 2012 (TheVine)
It’s the time when metalheads and punks are vindicated for one week out
of the year - Soundwave Festival. The event, now in its sixth ambitious
year, is most likely the greatest expression of rock music Retromania
that one could ask for. A phrase coined by acclaimed rock journalist
Simon Reynolds (blame him for the term “post-metal”) in his book of the same name, which asks “is popular music addicted to its own past?” The short answer? You bet your arse it is.
The long answer? Read on.
Read the long answer at TheVine.
The long answer? Read on.
Read the long answer at TheVine.
30.1.12
Review: Woods of Ypres - Woods 5: Grey Skies & Electric Light (Metal as Fuck)
There’s a particular twinge of grief that threads itself through this record – of course, the untimely passing of David Gold was as saddening as it was sudden. As he mournfully and sonorously rattled off his desperate words, screaming “Only death is real!” one’s eyes feel pregnant with tears and almost nothing can stem the flow. The heinous crime the Earth has committed in prematurely claiming our dark dreamer only serves to intensify this monochromatic vista of doom metal, like a portrait washed in rivers of hatred and modern bile, dripping with venomous, jarring guitar lines.
Read the review over at Metal as Fuck.
18.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #1
Hauled over the shoulders of a dark priest, we're carried off in the moonlight to a cathedral of magick and ritual, overseen by the minions of Satan himself...
#1
Ghost - Opus Eponymous
Ghost are like their namesake. They dress in Emerald robes fashioned by Satanic brotherhoods. The silences in between their notes are haunted by an all-consuming darkness all their own. The band are like a dark cabal seething timeless doom and chilling, merciless melody; their "self-titled" record a triumph of occult practicing, retro loving dark rock masters. It’s not like they’ve rummaged though boxes of dusty Nazareth or Free records from the 70s and purloined riffs in the vain hope no-one will notice (thanks for nothing, Opeth); Opus sounds like a fresh, new record; not some kind of hackneyed early 70s hand-me-down. Harder still is to imagine that their hymns like Satan Prayer are tongue-in-cheek homage to scheming cartoon devils, when they (and who really knows who they are – their identities are shrouded in complete secrecy) chant “Hear our Satan Prayer/ anti-Nicene creed” over simple martial beats of drum and shuddering bass, their tunes burrow themselves into our minds so effortlessly.
Like brothers in arms they invoke the insidious Mercyful Fate spirit in Elizabeth, our gloried gossamer-throated vocalist's (who?!!) herniated cries to the long departed Ms. Bathory as devotional as it will ever sound. They don’t even care for convention, especially on the pulsating Ritual; the band joins in harmony to finish the chorus, yet they loathe even waiting to start the first line of verse – but it works so damn well it’s impossible to fault them; especially that confident, fluid bluesy soloing to close the track out.
Though completely out of place, the genuinely beautiful closer Genesis is packed full of freewheeling synthesizer and acoustic flourishes, like looking through a prog rock glass darkly. Black metal has engorged and exhausted itself on providing listeners with “maximum Satan” through faster blast beats, more pompous lyrical posturing and a pleading insistence that their work is art, dammit, art! If you hear their cover of the Beatles’ Here Comes the Sun, it’s worth the price of admission alone. Ghost have reworked it into a black mass hymn abounding with organ hits and phaser-driven guitars marching at a funereal pace, grandly building as a chorus of ghouls harmoniously sing those immortal words; “Sun, sun, sun, here we come,” submerging them in inky blackness. Proceedings end with an abrupt halt as their gargantuan organ reverberates to a thunderous close.
Though completely out of place, the genuinely beautiful closer Genesis is packed full of freewheeling synthesizer and acoustic flourishes, like looking through a prog rock glass darkly. Black metal has engorged and exhausted itself on providing listeners with “maximum Satan” through faster blast beats, more pompous lyrical posturing and a pleading insistence that their work is art, dammit, art! If you hear their cover of the Beatles’ Here Comes the Sun, it’s worth the price of admission alone. Ghost have reworked it into a black mass hymn abounding with organ hits and phaser-driven guitars marching at a funereal pace, grandly building as a chorus of ghouls harmoniously sing those immortal words; “Sun, sun, sun, here we come,” submerging them in inky blackness. Proceedings end with an abrupt halt as their gargantuan organ reverberates to a thunderous close.
The irony aside, Ghost eschews all that pretentious bullshit that’s accumulated and ossified the black metal scene; Ghost have unleashed a truly remarkable debut metal record upon this cruel world. The black gauntlet has been thrown, the torch bared, the keepers of which are true heirs of the cult of metal. All hail, Ghost!
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Gold Award: Amorphis - The Beginning of Times
Silver Award: Within Temptation - The Unforgiving
Bronze Award: Anthrax - Worship Music
Silver Award: Within Temptation - The Unforgiving
Bronze Award: Anthrax - Worship Music
15.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #2
Crawling bloodied and broken from the Inside Room, we crumple our indivisible selves on the floor of a frost-scented forest, marking time, waiting for death...
#2
Insomnium - One For Sorrow
When Insomnium release a record, there’s a sudden rush of anticipation to get it in the mail (Yes, friends, I buy music.) the days pass achingly until you’re able to slip it into the CD tray (or vinyl platter, as I prefer.) One For Sorrow is like taking a hard look at yourself in the mirror as thunder crackles in your mind while watching your tears falling like rain. It’s like pent up rage tearing apart its fetters and bounding through your heart. With each urgent minute, there's a momentary release into freedom to remind yourself you’re trapped. Gloomy, despondent, heavy stuff from these criminally underrated Finns, outpacing and outplaying their seemingly dozing Swedish progenitors.
Though post-rock and shoegaze are the de rigeur styles of late, they lovingly furnish their palatial tracks with gilded slivers of grandeur, unwilling to sacrifice their wild streaks of old, a fierce exemplar in Every Hour Wounds. Harrowing gangs of mourners howl on Through the Shadows and the Song of the Blackbird lacerate like searing blades running thick with blood in an effort to revive a moribund elan vivre – this album has nary a skerrick of hope folded into its miasma of grey but their melodies sound defiant, graceful, and beautiful, save to mention their dark Romantic lyricism vaulting the record's raw, sorrowful element to a natural perigee on the string-filled self-titled closer.
Though post-rock and shoegaze are the de rigeur styles of late, they lovingly furnish their palatial tracks with gilded slivers of grandeur, unwilling to sacrifice their wild streaks of old, a fierce exemplar in Every Hour Wounds. Harrowing gangs of mourners howl on Through the Shadows and the Song of the Blackbird lacerate like searing blades running thick with blood in an effort to revive a moribund elan vivre – this album has nary a skerrick of hope folded into its miasma of grey but their melodies sound defiant, graceful, and beautiful, save to mention their dark Romantic lyricism vaulting the record's raw, sorrowful element to a natural perigee on the string-filled self-titled closer.
Workmanlike production lends tracks like Only One Who Waits imparts a calloused, bruising character, pleasing to hear amid the din of a thousand producers hollowing out the souls of their records to sound “more digital than anything else.” Though their last three albums were exquisite in their own right, the simplistic tag of “In Flames meets Children of Bodom on Opeth pills” ought to be consigned to metal history. A mature effort, it’s unashamedly and unforgettably a work of Insomnium’s stellar brand; an opus of elegant desperation.
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The Top 10 of 2011
14.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #3
Making our way back to shore, we check into a lowly watering hole to soak ourselves in booze, washing away the pain from The Inside Room...
I haven’t felt this way in such a long time about a record – an unsated, mournful feeling that bubbles up from some hitherto undiscovered fissure in the depths of my heart. Probing further, one can discover the frail, weak pulse that occupies “the inside room.” Its bleak doom metal in the absolute sense of the term; there’s only melancholy and monochrome to be heard and felt on this record although it’s so heart-rending it’s almost impossible to feel moved by it. Patrick Walker’s (ex-Warning) passionate, despondent and soul-rattling voice strides effortlessly over the minimalistic yet ocean-sized riffs, each player in lock-step with one another, communicating an avalanching, existential malaise that seems to stand in solidarity with anyone who has shed a tear in anguish or has lost something so precious to them. To feel so utterly lost in and arrested by a piece of music without once suspending one’s disbelief – not even for a second - is rare; The Inside Room is one of those once in a decade records. Perhaps these inhumanly talented upstarts 40 Watt Sun are one of those once in a decade bands, too. What’s more incredible is the thought of it having been recorded over three tireless days and nights – a mere seventy two hours! Hauntingly beautiful, like a living reminder that we are somehow incomplete and for that, we must despair.
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#3
40 Watt Sun - The Inside Room
I haven’t felt this way in such a long time about a record – an unsated, mournful feeling that bubbles up from some hitherto undiscovered fissure in the depths of my heart. Probing further, one can discover the frail, weak pulse that occupies “the inside room.” Its bleak doom metal in the absolute sense of the term; there’s only melancholy and monochrome to be heard and felt on this record although it’s so heart-rending it’s almost impossible to feel moved by it. Patrick Walker’s (ex-Warning) passionate, despondent and soul-rattling voice strides effortlessly over the minimalistic yet ocean-sized riffs, each player in lock-step with one another, communicating an avalanching, existential malaise that seems to stand in solidarity with anyone who has shed a tear in anguish or has lost something so precious to them. To feel so utterly lost in and arrested by a piece of music without once suspending one’s disbelief – not even for a second - is rare; The Inside Room is one of those once in a decade records. Perhaps these inhumanly talented upstarts 40 Watt Sun are one of those once in a decade bands, too. What’s more incredible is the thought of it having been recorded over three tireless days and nights – a mere seventy two hours! Hauntingly beautiful, like a living reminder that we are somehow incomplete and for that, we must despair.
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The Top 10 of 2011
13.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #4
The atoms from the discarded cheeseburger recombine to create a snarling metal beast rising from the waters off the cape of Jutland...
Mercenary were every bit Danish metal royalty – every record since the groundbreaking 11 Dreams was hyped as a major event in melodic death metal and with solid reason. Since the Sandager brothers’ departure, only the two original guitarists remain. Now, with a bit more breathing room to relax and let their riffs loose from leashes gripped tightly by their former bandmates, Mercenary have stepped back from their unyielding desire to emulate the fleeting glory days of Euro progressive metal (that’s the late 90s) and fusing the heady intensity of the original Gothenburg sound (the precious little mid-90s) to thrash out a record brimming with prime lead breaks, jaw-dropping solos and carnivorous, cracking riffs. They strut with a fearless command of those big, American style arena-electrifying refrains from the very beginning, (Through the Eyes of the Devil) grind relentlessly and parenthetically pound polyrhythms with subtlety and aplomb (In A River of Madness) as honey-coated keyboard accompaniments shine through better than any of their contemporaries (ahem, Scar Symmetry).
Rene Pedersen's stepping up to the microphone to lay down toweringly clean and muscular death vocals is possibly one of the greatest personnel decisions in melodic death metal history. Impassioned throughout, he sounds none more sincere than on Memoria. Pained and ardent cries to his parents had me completely floored, easily making this vocal driven track the best on the record. In Bloodred Shades hides nothing from us; trammeling, crunching riffs dominate no sooner to halt and yield to splendorous progressive inspired passages before twisting and turning back again, keeping us on tenterhooks as we can only feel awed at what they come up with next upon each and every listen.
Songwriting that treads the line between velvety Euro cheese and angsty American teenage posturing yet succumbing to the trappings of neither culminates perfectly on Shades of Gray, cloud-like synth anchoring an “ahhhing” choir while the rhythm section thickly lay chugging riffs down would sound completely stupid if it were cut by almost anyone else, but Mercenary make it work perfectly (principally the stock 80s key change on the bridge: “oohing” in tandem with faux-poetic lyricism: “From the beauty of a single rose / To the night's clear sky / Don't let it pass you by”) eventually wiping away the “somfing wot got in my eye” in the grinder On the Edge of Sanity. Coming out swinging (of the Glenn Miller variety, natch) in the closer The Black Brigade, we must ask: is Metamorphosis metal for the 2010s, the de-spoiler of the metalcore generation? I would be inclined to say it is.
---
#4
Mercenary - Metamorphosis
Mercenary were every bit Danish metal royalty – every record since the groundbreaking 11 Dreams was hyped as a major event in melodic death metal and with solid reason. Since the Sandager brothers’ departure, only the two original guitarists remain. Now, with a bit more breathing room to relax and let their riffs loose from leashes gripped tightly by their former bandmates, Mercenary have stepped back from their unyielding desire to emulate the fleeting glory days of Euro progressive metal (that’s the late 90s) and fusing the heady intensity of the original Gothenburg sound (the precious little mid-90s) to thrash out a record brimming with prime lead breaks, jaw-dropping solos and carnivorous, cracking riffs. They strut with a fearless command of those big, American style arena-electrifying refrains from the very beginning, (Through the Eyes of the Devil) grind relentlessly and parenthetically pound polyrhythms with subtlety and aplomb (In A River of Madness) as honey-coated keyboard accompaniments shine through better than any of their contemporaries (ahem, Scar Symmetry).
Rene Pedersen's stepping up to the microphone to lay down toweringly clean and muscular death vocals is possibly one of the greatest personnel decisions in melodic death metal history. Impassioned throughout, he sounds none more sincere than on Memoria. Pained and ardent cries to his parents had me completely floored, easily making this vocal driven track the best on the record. In Bloodred Shades hides nothing from us; trammeling, crunching riffs dominate no sooner to halt and yield to splendorous progressive inspired passages before twisting and turning back again, keeping us on tenterhooks as we can only feel awed at what they come up with next upon each and every listen.
Songwriting that treads the line between velvety Euro cheese and angsty American teenage posturing yet succumbing to the trappings of neither culminates perfectly on Shades of Gray, cloud-like synth anchoring an “ahhhing” choir while the rhythm section thickly lay chugging riffs down would sound completely stupid if it were cut by almost anyone else, but Mercenary make it work perfectly (principally the stock 80s key change on the bridge: “oohing” in tandem with faux-poetic lyricism: “From the beauty of a single rose / To the night's clear sky / Don't let it pass you by”) eventually wiping away the “somfing wot got in my eye” in the grinder On the Edge of Sanity. Coming out swinging (of the Glenn Miller variety, natch) in the closer The Black Brigade, we must ask: is Metamorphosis metal for the 2010s, the de-spoiler of the metalcore generation? I would be inclined to say it is.
---
The Top 10 of 2011
12.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #5
Escaping from the waiting jowls of the Hunter, we hear the sounds of a demented funfair lilting on the summer night air, only to discover greasy cheeseburgers unravelling before our very eyes...
#5
Devin Townsend Project - Deconstruction
Oh, the fate of the universe revealed if not for the want of a cheeseburger. Deranged and manic as ever, Devin Townsend and his talented passengers bound about like children hopped up on pixie sticks and red cordial, launching us into the nether region of “fractal space” (I’m sure it’s something Devy would say) and beyond. Even the comedown is tinted with psychedelic hues couched in layers upon layers of wondrous melody and harmony. His unhinged style is a work of patience, since we have to make do with over ten minutes of Devy gently painting scenery before tucking into some real “Hevy Devy” action; the chorus in Stand, riffs in the crushing Planet of the Apes feature a show-stopping, ethereal vocal performance from Devy’s only possible peer, Paul Masvidal (Cynic, Gordian Knot, et al.)
Punishingly ebullient is probably the best description of Devin Townsend’s music on Deconstruction. His ridiculous plots and playful, carnivalesque leitmotifs (The Mighty Masturbator the case and point) only serve to reinforce his incalculable depth of creativity and technical inventiveness. Deconstruction seems to unmask his usually veiled abstract expressionism; his inimitable yearning cries appealing to lost love, the oneness of the universe and a never ending search for some kind of higher power to make sense of the mind he’s been given and the body he inhabits feel more intense and prominent than earlier works, especially during the infinitely faceted Sumeria.
There's no more compartmentalizing himself between his solo, "Band" and Strapping Young Lad "divisions;" it's the man, Devin Townsend, complete and on unashamed display. He’s like the Philip K. Dick of metal; not only in the sense his content walks drunkenly astride insanity and genius – Devy is consistent in quality, prodigious in quantity and possibly more off-kilter than both he and his fans would care to admit. Deconstruction only reinforces his unassailable reputation as the undisputed king of progressive metal.
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9.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #6
Frolicking about in the forest, our hearts quicken as we prepare to flee from a mythical beast known only as The Hunter...
#6
Mastodon - The Hunter
“Yeah man, the new Mastodon album is okay,” a perpetually carping “fan” confides to me, “but it’s too accessible.” Forget you and your hipster
pals, man. This album kicks your skinny-jean clad arse, dude. The great thing
about holding the esteem of not only metaldom but the entire rock scene (and
TIME magazine, for that matter) is that any ludicrous idea is welcomed as
genius. For Mastodon’s wily fingered rhythm section, meat and potato chops
sound just as thrilling as Drop-C pentatonic reverse whatever-the-hell, room
filling simplicity as good as polyrhythmic pretentiousness. Mike Elizondo
teases every unpolished burr from the frets of each of these scruffy Southerners, every
song lending itself to the concept yet standing triumphantly alone. Swampy and
booze-soaked (possibly dope enthroned?) swagger abounds on Curl of the Burl and wondrous, trance-like corridors open up as
Troy Sanders’ nasally chants “You’re on fire!” in Stargasm – so convincingly may I add, after a few tokes you’d pat
down your legs just to make sure. Bill Kelliher confidently soars
full-throated on the theatrical Octopus
Has No Friends; theramin nuttiness and robotic apparitions pierce
through the space rock gem Bedazzled
Fingernails meanwhile richly layered guitars on The
Sparrow build up so deftly and seductively there’s only one option left once the
disc is over. Press play again.
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The Top 10 of 2011
8.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #7
Setting sail across the Atlantic we arrive and disembark upon a technicolor world of oddity, innocence and promise...
Fair to Midland - Arrows and Anchors
#7
Fair to Midland - Arrows and Anchors
I know, the moaning will give me a headache and I can already anticipate sloshing around in the piss as you intimate ever so discreetly that Fair to Midland aren’t quite metal, actually; but fuck me dead – they’re more metal than some of the bullshit that passes for it these days. That said; the music sounds resplendent and playful as ever, still retaining that hotheaded energy that seems to effortlessly glow from each and every child’s imagination. Confluences of folksy banjo, warm synthesizer and of course, generous servings of hulking distorted guitars mosey on over while the incredible, dizzying voice of Darroh Sudderth gives the record its wings as he takes flight; a man that can belt out crystalline vibrato in tandem with muddy, gruff snarls is worthy of much praise. Couple it with an unmatched creativity and unparalleled musicianship across an impossible diversity of instruments it deservedly garners quite a bit indeed.
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The Top 10 of 2011
7.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #8
A cab collects us from 17th Street and dumps us in the distant past, to a time where the Celts ruled with iron hands over their Emerald dominion...
#8
Primordial - Redemption at the Puritan's Hand
To be quite honest; I’ve always heard of Primordial but never paid any mind to them (in my incalculable folly); until a chance spin of one of their promo tracks in my car alerted me to their indomitable presence. It was one of those “Where have these guys been all my life” moments mixed with a sense of incredulity that I’d been foolish enough to only superficially hear them until presently. Nevertheless, Primordial’s inimitable sense of dense texture and dogged resistance to the lock down of riff manufacturing radiates outward in Redemption, evoking a proud and fervent sense of the arcane Celtic highlands. Careworn fingers can be heard sliding across strings and raw throated laments only serve to heighten the appeal of their chilling brand of black metal. There aren’t many records that can transport you to another time that only few have stood and watched, but Primordial are undoubted masters at whittling down at your conscious soul until you’re no longer tied to the present, sweeping you away with their despondent odes.
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The Top 10 of 2011
6.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #9
Discarding our robes to venture back into the grime-covered city, we make our way into the underbelly of...
#9
Hammers of Misfortune - 17th Street
Seemingly the darlings of the mainstream press, Hammers of Misfortune are routinely overlooked by our bread and butter (anything with “metal” in the URL) instead lauded by the US National Public Radio of all places. They draw upon funereal doom as dark and foreboding as mahogany caskets resting inside pitch black hearses, soaring British New Wave pomp and pageantry, accursed piano driven dark cabaret in addition to plethora of other eclectic influences, crafting yet another sprawling and genuinely entrancing work. The songwriting sounds ambitious and impenetrably precise; a lesser collective of musicians could only aspire to butchery in contrast to HoM’s inspired finesse. Careful attention is given to production; each track taking on its own unique character yet slotting in perfectly like a chapter in a chilling yet suspenseful mystery novel. Former Slough Feg guitarist John Cobbett and his accomplished company lovingly nurse the concept album back into its robust prime, layering sonorous guitar lines and counterpointed vocals that pay their respects to – but by no means shamelessly rip off – the greats of the past. It has been some time since a high concept record had the balls to tell a thought provoking story and just flat out rock.
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The Top 10 of 2011
5.12.11
The Top 10 Metal of 2011 - #10
Shuffling the honorable mention winners out the servant's entrance, we now don our black monastic cloaks and prepare for the unholy rites...
#10
The Black Dahlia Murder - Ritual
I made evident in my review earlier this year; something had to give for The Black Dahlia Murder to continue at their breakneck pace lest they slammed into a creative brick wall. Ryan Knight, Arsis alumni and guitarist extraordinaire not only dipped his toes but unreservedly plunged head-first into the vast canon of metal but of all extreme music; like a deranged and alcohol-fuelled (possibly illicitly lit-up as well) metal necromancer, he charges through punk, death metal, black metal, metalcore and indeed the entire gamut, extracting the most brutal essences and discarding the bloated morass of insipid shit that’s gone wrong. It’s not an aimless or schizophrenic effort by any means; it’s cohesive, it’s modern and its heavy metal. It deftly bypasses any pretension that so many bands yearn for simply by rocking and rocking well…and that’s the heavy metal way!
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The Top 10 of 2011
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