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Saturday, December 31, 2011

Kidneythieves - Trypt0fanatic review

Year : 2010
Genre : Industrial Cyber Rock
Label : Independent
Origin : United States
Rating : 9.0 / 10

There seems to be no method more proper than to wrap this year 2011 up with a review of Kidneytheives' 2010 output Trypt0fanatic. This 37 minutes full length is available through a dedicated subsection of the band's official website, by following this awesomelociuos URL.

I can cite it much-, but can't cite it enough that the reviewer is the least important thing in a review, and this still remains a general rule of thumb I enjoy ignoring from time to time with the - hopefully - realistic hopes of strengthening it. As such, and, if you dare, you can read my all-time introductory sentiments relating to Kidneythieves in the intro section of this review. If you have never heard of Kidneythieves so far, you are missing out on exigent-, rabid electronic music bordering on hard rock and alternative metal in character, always keeping the cybernetic Blade Runner vibe intact. The Blade Runner vibe is the one you feel when you are looking for a cab in the middle of a cybernetic city with its sky reigning in blistering pure-static, and you realize that you have just lost the cellphone number of the person you think you love. Then you spot a cab, and you wonder if you ever had it.

Kidneythieves, thank God and Co., does not know the spiritual anti-stance necessary to give up the will to function beneficiary, and, as such, though the band without doubt exhibits a steep-, relentless degree of curiosity cultivated towards the negativistic, is never satisfied with the mere act of diligent painsurfing, and always is on the hunt for the transhumanistic remedy. In other words : Kidneythieves is a cyber-organic trauma team, and, if you think that you are normal, then they will cure the holy fuck out of you. Read more to find out how.


The (not at all secret) zuppa weapon of this squad is the top of the food chain full female charm singing contributed by Free Dominguez. You can identify her dangerously borderline - in a positive manner, of course! - timber out of an infinite number of others, and it is of no surprise that an endless row of female performers seek to imitate her equally rabid and tender style, but she still packs the original "it" factor you CAN put your finger on : her singing voice simply brings everything you could hope for : she 1. Understands, and 2. goes Borderline, IF.

The music on Trypt0fanatic registers as a fresh, muscular, homogeneous fabric from top to bottom, and it is not (just) New Year's Eve beer-bias talking from me either, as the relatively short-but-intact playtime of 37 minutes enables the band to grace the listener with well-focused, legit Kidneythieves content, and the LP tells everything it needs to tell by its conclusion.

As for the global pacing of this ripe delivery, Trypt0fanatic almost exclusively is mid-tempo in character. The band transmits from a contemplative-, deeply emotional position that though remains absolutely free of slime, green goo and James LaBrie, courtesy of smart collision courses established between the vocals and the harmonic surroundings. Hooks are numerous, oftentimes br00tal like a hungry vampire's tenderness, and a good amount of those reek pure-gold classic Kidneythieves so efficiently that it commands crocodile tears in your eyes right away. Opening track "Jude" is similar in character - note : NOT a ripoff of! - to the band's earlier classic, "Crazy", for example. The intact-, timeless Kidneythieves deal of catchy, cybernetic borderline chorus and verse with an intent to go carnivore on your most comforting delusion, reigns in full effect. All in all, with their 2010 contribution Trypt0fanatic, Kidneythieves is as invigorated as ever, offering 10 (+bonus track) variant on the primer mood the LP is gravitating around.

Rating : 9.0 / 10



Noise Shaft wishes you a Happy New Year!
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Thursday, December 29, 2011

Simulacrum - Master of the Simulacrum review

Year : 2011
Genre : Progressive Metal
Label : Inverse Records
Origin : Finland
Rating : 7.0 / 10

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It is very easy to understand where Finland's Simulacrum is coming from : imagine a relatively life-capable blend of Dream Theater and Symphony X, add a tint of - BUT! a tint of - super-fruitful technical deathmetal, and - kind of - spoil it with blunt vocal performance on top. The album starts out eminently, keeping this form up with a sexy blend of middleweight metal rhetorics and caressing synth work á lá Faith No More. The music though, is of entirely different fabric, showing rabid faithfulness to a ripe-, but relatively scantly realized inner image of melodic progressive metal. Production values guarantee a slim frame with elegant musculature, and, as such, the sonic mass of this delivery hardly if ever seeks to intimidate your receivers. The least efficient ingredient, in my opinion, is the vocal contribution, but nothing that can't be perfected later on. The melodic route-decisions fail to touch me. Exceptions are present, but nothing beyond that.

The album shows a variety of different key characteristics, - apart from the dramatic teddybear singing - as the delivery no doubt seeks to serve you all the ingredients established by its key inspirators : Dream Theater, Symphony X. Fortunately, the album has the capacity to render certain focal elements with great success, while other elements are teaming up with the Hippopotamus League to indulge mercilessly in any fashion and in any substance that it feels comfortably for THEM. Read on to find out more about this decent progressive metal attempt.


The melodic body of work herein is very orthodox progressive me(t)al with the highly unsurprising intent of seeking out the field between power metal and hard rock that is bordering on dramatic musical, but the collision between harmonies and the super-persistent vocal work lacks that special-, ripe playfulness factor that hacks your nervous system on spot and urges you in real time to revisit a track. Such a sentence shouldn't be hanging in the air without justification, so I attempt to clarify my claim. Listen to the track "The Re-Formation Show" from Anubis Gate's latest album, and hear - in my opinion - utterly playful and ripe progressive metal. If the chorus of that song does not strike you as brilliant, then I don't know what to tell you. This Simulacrum album, while enthusiastic as an adolescent around a rubber porn star, has a whole lot of galaxies to cover yet to be regarded with the same ave. But it has 6 minutes and 15 seconds of jawdropping stimuli, so stick around.

I don't want to be (all that much) evil with this record, so I will tell you the elements I think it shows superb form, even bursts of brilliance with and through. It mainly is via the experimental tendencies. These leanings are far from being integral and find no cunning to reign fruitfully homogeneous in their efficiency. Laboriously built, sweat-reeking pseudo-complexity - piano and distorted guitar playing the same phrase in unison??, WOW, you rascal!, you!, you KNOW how to treat a snob! < - irony. - oftentimes gets mistaken herein for true experimental compositional work ready to fuck your mind for its own enjoyment like this monster does, and the band has an occasional hard time distinguishing their solid moments from self-indulgent wankery that is happening for THEIR enjoyment and definitely not for yours.

Now for the worse parts.

The album, I think, looks the worst when it seeks for the epic sorrow of James LaBrie and finds the horrid thing, and it looks best when the experimental segments have a continuous narrative to tell, and not just casual experimentation of interconnected elements of complexity that have no actual knowledge or shared experiences about each other at all. One song I find absolutely stellar on this album, is track number 5, called "Flagiston". It is a hyper-complex psyche-robber sci-fi instrumental revolving around swarms of nanobots chasing your hide to rewrite your DNA. (As a start.) The band shows surprising ripeness and top tier chops herein, and a clear set of correlations is notable between the more tame instrumental language they speak in this song and that of Blotted Science, Obscura and Gorod. In other words, this track, called Flagiston, is as superb of a technical death metal build as it is a fabric with tight progressive elements. The definite peaking of the album, and, if this LP would bring this quality all the way throughout, then I naturally would have no other choice than to rate it well above 9. Not that it is that important. Remember, the art always is superior to its miserable critic, no exceptions.

The band knows how to entertain you in legit fashion, but are not always willing to pay that price on this record, in my opinion, and sometimes satisfies with alibi. The music on this release ain't as serious-, nor as heavy or thrilling YET as in the company of Anubis Gate or as on Symphony X's latest, and, the haunting feel of the 1986 metal pop festival is an enthusiastic invitee of the developments, too, hiding among a set of much more tolerable-, even likable entities. With such delicate deliveries as Flagiston on board though, you definitely want to keep an eye on this promising progressive metal band.

Rating : 7.0 / 10

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Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Dr. Livingdead - Dr. Living Dead review

Year : 2011
Genre : Thrash Metal Punk Crossover
Label : High Roller Records
Origin : Sweden
Rating : 8.0 / 10

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Dr.Livingdead's Dr. Living Dead is a counter-conspiracy audio device that makes the members of the Illuminati call it a wrap and tremble in fear in the nearest corner, - Alex Jones declares you the Leader of the Resistance and announces the State of Interplanetary Collapse in this recycled Special! News! Bulletin!, right after this premium product presentation - and, if that is not enough for you, you rebel scum, then know that the record has been produced by none other than your Legendary Death Master Fred Estby. Fred Estby, man, Fred Estby! If you have no obscure shallow purple of a clue whatsoever who Fred Estby is, then feel free to join THAT club, and prepare yourself for 36 minutes of contemporary Estby sound as Dr. Living Dead unleashes its variant of counter-thought controlling, all seeing lizardeye-staring crossover thrashpunk on your sorry hide. The truth is in there. I'm sane, the voices told me, too!


With a hilarious opening track entitled "World War Nine", the record leaves nothing to be desired in the department of larger than life-, violent action cartoon warfare. The LP is divided to 16 tracks of short sharp shrapnel impacts, and not a single one of those hits the 3 minutes mark. The album is safe, enthusiastic thrash-worship fun via a method that tends to register as a friendly blend of Sex Pistolsian punk and Slayeresque - WTF??! - thrash metal, with a tint of Voivod surfacing up in it from time to time, too. The album packs a superb, old school, nihilistic thrash sound with well defined middleweight musculature and a vile grin, and notable emphasis is placed on the different frequency domains, too. In other words : the album, thank God and Co., does not revolve around the continuous act of stalking out of shape riffs on the open bottom strings. The tempos and the structures of the record are soberly varied within a certain set of compositional limits, the lyrics are hilarious, - "this is the END, we're getting OLD, we're getting FAT, DEAD! END! LIFE!" and the whole album shows a trusty, steady thrash character with a solid understanding of its potentials and capacities. 36 minutes is a perfect length for this style.

The furious pacing is interrupted here and there by a mid-paced build with legit, melodic rhythmic riffing - track called "My Brain Is For Sale" is an example - giving the record apt opportunity to handle ignition mode at its own consent afterwards. Make no mistake : this is 90%-, if not 95% intense thrashing throughout, and the eloquent kind of it, too. The release does more complex and elegant things instrumentally and rhythmically than the ever-cultivated Ultimate Intensity of the release lets you recollect at first, so, in my opinion it is worth directing your attention to the little subtleties the band pulls the moustache of the sleeping beast with.

Dr. Livingdead's Dr. Living Dead causes no unwanted-, obtrusive surprises, and it is more than a record that serves out rudimentary thrash cravings, like this baby sounds to do, in my opinion. Dr. Living Dead lives up - hah! - to it's demanding name, and delivers unalloyed retroid thrash attack power reeking the charisma of a violent ballpoint pen drawing. You want this, Lover.

Rating : 8.0 / 10

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Monday, December 26, 2011

Mystica Girls - Metal Rose review

Year : 2011
Genre : Punk Metal
Label : Independent
Origin : Mexico

Buy it now

Superscarce are the number of things that can validly claim that they are sexier than a female metal group, - a kickass female metal group would be an example - and Mystica Girls doubtless have a set of immediate zuppaweapons I currently am aware of which with to stick to that position with prestige intact. One is the band's great bassist, and the second is the tits of the lead guitarist. TUKK! Yes, I'm sorry for having to say this, and yes, sexism is immature and kind of repulsive in a review. While you comfily despise me, check a live performance video out right away from these Mexican chicks : in this Metallica cover, the fronter Mystica Girl brings the charisma and freshness of an ancient gym towel, and, to solidify my claim, I'd like to draw your attention to segment 1:36 to 1:41 of the video I just linked. Yeah, the bassist is pulsating and her playing is tight, but I dare you to listen to the singer. "Seek and des- troeeeeeeJJ!! - HA. HAAAA."

...

"HA. HAAAA."

Seriously?

Credit must be given where credit is due, nevertheless : the drummer seems to have promise, as she is powerful and relentless behind the covert ops sunglasses, and the bassist simply is great, in my opinion. She reminds me of a female Peter Steele, and her playing is absolutely adept, well articulated and serious. She plays that fucking bass like she MEANS it. The lead guitarist seems to be solid, too : I watched another footage of a live performance in which she delivers an acceptable variant on the Symphony of Destruction solo, and a woman who can do that enjoys/suffers my instant fanboyism. Read more to find out more about this Mexican female metal group Mystica Girls' latest studio outing.


Opening track "My Dinner" is an interesting testament of how punk and goth can work together if to summon the vibe of detective cartoon music, - the verse reeks Inspector Gadget and Michael Flatley, Oh. My. Fucking. God. - and the only element I personally think the track would look better without, are the folkish overtones, - violins and related Leprechaun music - but those are not too prominent, fortunately. The guitar solo herein demands separate mentioning. It greatly reminds me of the solo language of cosmic level shredder Michael Angelo Batio. So, I do not know if the Mystica Girls guitarist gal played this solo into an armed microphone no prob, OR constructed it segment by segment, but the point is that the solo work is truly relevant in this song.

In second track, "Rabia", the bassist chick is super-present, and the guitars/drums produce a truly efficient rebellious rumble with the cyber-organic deep under them. The song sports a freely positioned verse structure with some superb points it decides to emphasize rhythmically, giving you a charismatic result similar to a bonfire song that just decided to wage a war instead. The lead singer is quite natural and efficient here, and an organic, paradox connection is formed between her distant-but-elegant melodies and the punkish rumble the instruments compliment those as. The chorus sounds to me like a folk song with beauty and soul in it, and you can always feel free to give GyZ something with beauty and soul in it, THIS chorus included.

Third delivery, "Mi Sangre" is thrashy like a truck with no driver, and the initial intensity has no problem finding a groove with a huge hook on it in the mid-section. This sonic entity is muscular enough to carry the chorus on its elegant back, then, the aforementioned intensity kicks back in in its original form, looking as badass as ever. A nice instrumental break with a lyrical tint takes your awareness to a deceitful stroll, interrupted by an intense comeback highlighted by the bassist chick's crazy-ass-, adept bass runs.

Next track, "Metal Rose", is the titular delivery of this record, and it is the epitome of the likable song, because it commits so sharply defined "pseudo-mistakes" that you have to pull this baby to your chest to defend it from all ill will. This song proudly and prominently uses the megalithic abusement-rhyme pair "fire" and "desire" in the connotation of a chorus with stupendous cheese factor, but, (cluster) fuck, you can't help but eat in it, because the Mystica Girls serve it with so much full-of-life feminine charm that it gives you no other choice than to submit. Here is the video for the song. The intro section kicks all kinds of monolith butts in my opinion, with the sitting bass etc. Don't be a jerk(off) - fucking creep - and watch the whole thing before amending your initial impression.

"Tortura", following a deceitful intro, unleashes a steady groove on you with a thrash attitude. This nice rumble decides to wander about in the verse section, and the singing on top of it imbues a taming quality on the fury under its - metaphoric - feet. At 2:00, things heat up considerably, as the build takes on punk characteristics for a while with furious tempo, then, you find yourself in an instrumental break, highlighted by tight-, wankery-free solo work from the guitarist girl.

Diluvio starts out like a soundtrack of the first Doom game, only, now with analog instruments. The song has a raging quality and sounds to occupy the emotional position of a good old fashioned rant. My "sentimento". The lyrics in this song are in Spanish. The ending of the song, with the singer belting out a bravely sized testament of a healthy set of lungs, is a perfect conclusion to this charming release.

Mexican Mystica Girls' latest studio delivery is risk-free, likable metal music with a feminine realness and a charismatic punk temper to it. It is free of-, and reigns way beyond the metalcorish suffering narrative, and emerges as a delivery more close at heart to the direction represented by this record of similar character. Mystica Girls is honest, hefty metal music and unalloyed sex appeal, and I'm sure as hell want them to play in my room, and you want them to, too.

Rating : 7.0 / 10

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Sunday, December 25, 2011

Christmas Swing


GyZ covers the song : Christmas Swing by Django Reinhardt. Listen in HD please.

Lyrics :

JUMP!

hm, I'm in the mood for

a beautiful Christmas time
with beautiful people in their prime
your beautiful parents
loving you for what you are

talented gifter

JUMP!

beautiful, beautiful
people in their prime
having their, living their
Christmas, Christmas time

JUMP!

oh, you killed me

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Friday, December 23, 2011

Spiralmountain - Blacksand review

Year : 2011
Genre : Djent Instrumental
Label : Independent
Origin : United States
Rating : 8.9 / 10

Spiralmountain is the one man band djent project of a djentleman called Erik Ebsen, in which he operates both as compositional force, prime executor and instruments programmer. This musician, fortunately enough, knows no concepts relating to lack of inspiration whatsoever, as Blacksand is the first of two full lengths he hits consensus with by this very year. Noise Shaft, as a highly intoxicating post-humanistic music review site, is interested in propagating djent, as it recognizes the style as an exceptionally interesting sub-genre (tip : of music) that tolerates no lies and shortcuts, always demanding genuine effort and elegant cunning from the content to emerge as significant.

Blacksand, quite safe to say, is an album that reigns in the position of having steady capacity to offer brilliant djent patterns sculpted out of pure creativity and love for the genre, and here are some direct examples right away : track number 2, called "Death as a Cult", second 53 : a superb, "stalling" pattern that promises no good whatsoever, - I could listen to this one for five seconds or five minutes no problem - and it reveals multiple key elements of the relentless djent intentions. It has the thick, mean guitars djenting on one single note in an illegal space-time rift, taunted by a much more thinner guitar on the top that recognizes and accepts no beauty at all. This is only one tiny interlude-segment, one though that I consider truly significant in the fabric, as it sends you the message that you are listening to music with pure thought behind it. Blacksand never comes short of these moments of instant magic. Later on, this particular song goes towards a variety of relatively adventurous ways,  among these, a direction of melodic death metal seems to emerge as the most momentarily prominent.

Another direct example to give you an account of the flamboyant developments throughout, is track number 6, called "Apathy" : the introduction is a hilarious display of how djent can flirt with thrash metal and death metal. First, you have a lost-in-space djent-derelict guitar riff failing to give a shit for its surroundings, then, death emerges for a couple of seconds with blast beats so relentless that the fabric of things have no other option than to shiver, which is an expectable reaction to proper death metal. Read on to find out more about this superb one man band djent release.


Blacksand, as - hopefully - suggested with the examples above, is a ripe account of Erik Ebsen's inner images of the faces of metal music, all these reflections being presented by the thrilling tools and favorite fixations of relentless djent warfare. I personally am arriving to a cautious conclusion that djent is all about the

sacred pattern

be it whatever it needs to be as long as it has a cosmic meaning, and no legit djent pattern lacks the cosmic meaning, trust me. Erik Ebsen's Blacksand is on the constant hunt for such patterns, and you always will be delighted to realize that the release shows steady efficiency of getting itself to direct stalking position within seconds. Opening track, called "Fade" reveals a quite interesting concept right away, as the central idea revolves around a fragile "the special island I've been keeping for you and me, sip!, sip!" palmtree-mood, - Enya in character, I swear! - supported though by a restrained type of efficient djenting, giving out a persistent sense of determination - "and you will come with me to that special island" - and relentlessness - "alive or dead."

Erik Ebsen exhibits fortunate-, and persistent readiness at complimenting odd positions on mere time's mere body, and time, sure enough, is quite happy about these reoccurring acts. The album enjoys warping - at heart - simplistic drum patterns into mathematical fractal complexity just to command them back to comfy-, instant "kicking the ass of 4/4"-enjoyment position, and Erik Ebsen has no trouble hiding the "One" you are so curiously looking for when listening to djent worth doing that with. The "One", in this context, is the start of the pattern, of course.

Blacksand is a release that looks quite good in this instrumental form, as it remains free of the mere act of throwing in vocalized lines of profound misery to sell out the same pattern for 128 consecutive bars like an other album does. This isn't to say that the LP has any problem offering well varied stagnation, which, in my opinion, is equally important in this style. The introductory segment of titular track "Blacksand" is a great example of how intense-, minigun-grade djenting can be complimented with delicious, proper variation. All in all, I'm going to wrap this review up by saying that this album has a whole lot of quality djent content to soak your ears into. I find it a surprisingly ripe delivery, and it is highly recommended.

Rating : 8.9 / 10

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Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Ceterum - Fathom review

Year : 2011
Genre : Alternative Metal Math Metal with Djent elements
Label : Independent
Origin : United States
Rating : 9.3 / 10

There are two immediate confessions that I have to make in this review : 1. I am not familiar with the music of Tool, 2. a good amount of Internet people - no one knows if those are real ones - claim that Ceterum's music sounds-, behaves a whole lot like that of Tool. Now that this recognition has been revealed, let's concentrate on the character of the music, which surely is something delicate to behold.

Ceterum sounds to be passionately disinterested of such classic elements of music as traditional time and orthodox song structures. Everything is permitted, even encouRAGED, if the results compliment the tall order of music that as easy and pleasant to grasp unto as hardly it seeks to elegantly and efficiently throw you off of its back.The rhythm work herein comes to you through intentionally and adeptly warped time signatures that are the magnificent workings of a steadily deranged cultist who seeks to master the Ultimate Doomsday Device 24/7 - and yes, you want to hear the music manufactured by such entity - and the resultant stimuli sounds to me as a more colorful take on the audio data Swedish Vildhjarta may have tried to do with their latest album that exhibits some similar basic characteristics to this one. I'm referring to the rhythmic work, exclusively. (Though I must say that recently I do discover some magical moments on the Vildhjarta album, but not as much as if I would find two times as many on it as I actually do.)

Ceterum's debut of 58 ripe and relentless odd music knows and tolerates no remote reminder of a filler or alibi build. The release is one raging, robust piece of constant sonic punishment, and it will kick your ass to hell and back. Read on to find out how.


Fathom is one debut that manages to keep its form intact all the way, always delivering what it does via simultaneous power, invention and efficiency. The central field of operations the release invites the stimuli into existence from is a submissive reliance on the supremely warped time signature as Entity, and the reason that this is working is none other than the mere tools of sonic ultramass-destruction the release compliments these hacked variants of time with. As for the speed, the debut shows a little bit above-mid-tempo temper throughout : the pacing never comes to a crawl, nor it emerges to claim the anti-diadem of a rocket powered world war tank that is about to end all wars. The tempo always is of such pacing that the fabric of the truly special rhythmic patterns emerge both as a pleasant challenge and a rewarding trait to relate to, to immerse yourself into.

Topple this beautifully erratic rhythmic behavior with a solid grasp of harmonic spellcasting, heavily fixated on the darker side of the related art. The guitars are mean, down tuned, dangerously flattered by a fat bass of genuine vile intent, and the resultant "wholesound" maintains a firm understanding of the most successful capacities it has at its disposal, keeping it away steadily from making bad decisions like going for the furious tempo for the mere sake of mispositioned variation. Once again, the release is more of an upper-mid-tempo admission of proper love resonated to a warped sense of dire time, supported by a vocal language that wisely satisfies as a passenger on-, as a complimenter of the ultramass the instrumental section rumbles through the listener as. This is not to say that the release lacks significant vocal offerings, quite the contrary : I especially am content with the choruses, - can't find anything wrong with the verses, either - it only is worth pointing out that the vocal presence of the record sounds to have a sober faithfulness to its life-giver harmonies, never seeking to stray away from those on a miscalculated attempt to deliver autonomously without the consent of the singularity-grade Master harmonies.

One thing I also am quite trustily happy and humpty dory about is the complete absence of mouth corner twitcher metalcore aspirations. Ceterum's debut is one of tremendous surprise power on the positive register, as the album never comes short of ideas safe and worthy to present, which enables them to stay away from sniffing shit around the saggy hide of family friendly metalcore. If you want to hear music with a whole lot of quality relevance going on through monstrous super-rhythms and cleverly restrained-, but powerful melodies, then obtaining this release for the listening enjoyment of your neighbors, your loved ones and yourself, is : mandatory.

Rating : 9.3 / 10

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Saturday, December 17, 2011

Inelements - Post Stress review

Year : 2011
Genre : Alternative Metal
Label : Independent
Origin : United States
Rating : 9.2 / 10

Nobody steals Duke Nukem's chicks and lives, and nobody knows about this Colorado Springs based alternative metal band, which is something to be baffled about, considering the sheer melodic power of the formation's second full length delivery. The compact, musically informative YouTube video promoting this album - check it out here - is available to the public since August of 2011, and has collected 72 views to this very moment. Reality has performed an illegal operation and needs to be urgently rewritten, as this view count is unacceptably low. The sonic data on this LP is ridiculously and significantly good to regard this dire situation as passable, so this diligently nihilistic music review site Noise Shaft attempts to ease this unawareness-disease and seeks to direct all the attention it can towards this band and its latest album to date, because both the group and the LP deserve that, at the very least.

Inelements is an entity composed of two sub-entities. The first one is the band itself, and the other one is lead vocalist Steven Huckaby, who, fortunately enough, has a supremely well developed Mike Patton influence, and the whole album relentlessly reeks a pleasantly familiar Faith No More character through its favorite vocalic structures, and, through some of its primer emotional dispositions, even. Steven Huckaby has exceptional talent, his clean singing is brave, powerful, and his timber, while does not seek to mime Patton's sexily neurotic and neurotically sexy tendencies which I think people love Patton's clean singing voice for, works superbly when submits to the primordial-, anatomical traits of this approach. The name of this singing lingo mainly revolves around the huuuuuge, huge prolonged-sustained belted notes Huckaby pulls off with steady power and soul, - also totally free of the "lookicandothat!" fuckingdouchbag-factor like a deluded bathroom singer - combined with the "mere" note-passages the melodies roam through while colliding with the harmonic structures to support them from the background. Guys, let's talk about the music.


Being 9 seconds shy of 1 full hour of top of the food chain melodic stimuli, Post Stress is a thorough exploration of a dignified variant of deeply flamboyant metalcore even in the instrumental department, but, needless to say after the introduction of this review, the component that elevates this contribution well above its vastly more popular and vastly inferior peers, is the superb singing of Steve Huckaby, who reigns herein as the heart and soul of eleven strong compositions.

As for the anatomy of the music, I personally am totally humpty dory with the direction the compositions travel along, and there is only one caveat that I think is worth mentioning. This record features the metalcorish screamo methodology on frequent occasions, and I imagine that this approach is included as result of a conscious decision from the band to appeal to the angsty emo audience. The truth is though that the actual music on this record is so ripe and powerful that it reigns galaxies beyond the ultimate appeal of the retarded-ass screamo style, and the beauty herein needs not to bow down to such a vile criteria as to satisfy the cheap demands of shitsniffer screamo metalcore. But it bows down to this false, lobotomized king nevertheless, and everyone should forgive this, I think. Other than that, there is not a simple thing to whine about or form a complaint on regarding this luscious output. A very pleasant surprise from a very little known band. Inelement's Post Stress is a lush, soulfully aggressive AND very grateful record with crystal clear intents and top of the heat singing on it, and I think you need to check it out as soon as humanly possible. Or sooner.

Rating : 9.2 / 10

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Friday, December 16, 2011

Gorod - Transcendence EP review

Year : 2011
Genre : Technical Death Metal
Label : Willowtip Records, Listenable Records
Origin : France
Rating : 9.6 / 10

The Transendence EP from French superheavyweight technical death metal formation Gorod brings you a package with exceptional readiness to offer flamboyant variation of mood and behavior. The first track, called "Earth Pus" - clap your hands for the dude with the title idea - is an intense album opener that, in my opinion, as a direct escapee from a recent day Obscura LP. Radical-, no holds barred melodic work tears silence with a constant hunt for the bidding of its own capriciousness to see if it wants the fucking riff or not, finding plenty of space to freely and inventively lament beside the blast beat and the singer dude, who happens to have a charismatic nervous breakdown each time he is opening the mouth. So things are pretty acceptable.

The second track is a more gently shaped direction that makes use of a buff acoustic setting, one that is pretty much steroid unplugged in character. Steroid unplugged IS good for your awareness, my love. The music exhibits a nice variety of surprising sonic traits and aspirations via the myriad kinds of minor mood-references it connects with each other to form the flow of the experience. I'm picking up vibes of bittersweet bourbon-schanzon, quite traditional Shakira-asshaker Latin that borders on Al Dimeola's take on circus music, - whenever he shreds madly, he plays circus music, no? - supported efficiently by a haunting-, abundantly note-rich feel that is one favorite of aforementioned act Obscura, as well. This narrative, mysterious mood is traded for yet another set of impressive runs of more traditional forms of music as the build progresses, and, while the skills these passages are explored by, guarantee a rewarding momentary experience, when combined with the musically more engaging feeling of the Obscura-like sci-fi thrill, are prone to deliver a final fabric that blames the traditional elements as finely calibrated fillers, in my opinion. Guys, let's talk about the rest of the tracks, too.


Third installment, "Textures", is a cover of the original piece of the same title from progressive band "Cynic", and, since I must admit I do not currently know the source material, all I can say is that I find this cover to be a more successful -, more richly sounding dataflow to flatter the buff quasi-unplugged setting you have the chance in track 3, as well. This super-eventful delivery, though has distorted twin guitars to offer legit, liquified riff -work with great enthusiasm, also sports a sanely controlled global sound that does not seek to intimidate the ears, and remains a gentle composition at heart, instead. Gently, BUT very richly sounding, that is. I think it is safe to say that the Cynic cover is a superb moment of the LP, and I have the hunch that it ends abruptly enough to express dissatisfaction for. So do that if you want.

Fourth track, called "Earth Pus - Salvation" is a much more focused acoustic build, focused on content that is quite rare to behold, that is. The territory this music is coming from is not one you can fake access to if you have none, and it also is a close border-territory to the thrilling sci-fi vibe so eagerly cultivated by recent technical death acts. It sure as cartoon-hell much better, in my opinion, than the arpeggiated fantasy-bard direction.

Titular track, Transcendence is a 15 minutes epic with an initial tendency to flatter the Turkish cutpurse-chaser vibe with varied intensity, and, though this vibe is not one that I would fight with a raksasha for, I must admit it looks interesting when Gorod jackhammers the living music out of it. When this happens, and the flow arrives to the 5th minute mark, the build already is totally free of the need to relate to any mood, and it sounds much more gracefully consumable. At 6:42, you are in heavy fucking duty death metal with truly top level efficiency, and the sonic richness-, AND the integrity of the fabric herein demands unalloyed praise. The music is relentless and raging for a good amount of time herein, and it stays super-focused while declaring its urge of wanting to devour all, leaving you no other chance than to believe and be devoured, indeed. A devoured listener is a shitty one, too, so Gorod spits you out and resurrects you into totally acceptable form, and takes on a more restrained-, but absolutely rewarding mid-tempo stroll that never loses focus from the intricate melody, be it any shape or form or direction to flatter it along. At 11:59, Gorod sounds like it is creating a hilarious parody of metalcore, as the riffcraft shows the anatomy of that particular trend-genre, but supports it with such sexy and relentless rhythmyzation that badly abused metalcore as Thesis finds a new, magnificent will to live and shine by.

Rating : 9.6 / 10

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Thursday, December 15, 2011

To Die For - Samsara review

Year : 2011
Genre : Gothic Metal with a Groove Metal temper
Label : Independent
Origin : Finland
Rating : 6.9 / 10

Finland's To Die For is barging to your private world with quite a well established set of basic intents, and there is not much if any dangers - nor radical affections - ahead to deviate along from the primer directions this release is hasty and enthusiastic to reveal right from its efficient beginning.

"Kissing the Flames" is a superstrong album opener with an accessible nature that shows subtlety in its coarse-, but very meticulously realized elements of pure brute muscle charm. The song has a variety of well defined meat hooks laid strategically in its fabric, and the primordial agenda to deliver the furious Goth rant with a groooooove! fucking met'lllllllll! temper, works in a sanely calculated fashion that serves the plan steadily, without endangering your awareness levels towards any direction whatsoever. If you want, read on to find out about the other tracks, too, but don't forget your coffee.


Track number 2, "Damned Rapture" is a convoluted mid tempo build with a hint of a middle eastern tone surfacing up in it from time to time. The song is an efficient initial mixture of the family friendly form of Metallica and Muse, as the song's verse structure truly is a soulful and inventive flow with top notch harmonic structure, and only the drunk football fan chorus takes away from it. Other than that, nice contribution with an equal tendency to slowly groove-, AND "sludge" it out. The climax of the song has a more intense rumbling going on, but nothing too serious, as it is not given the route to thrash anything along.

"Cry for Love" sports a great romantic punk chorus - yes, turns out there IS such a thing, ask Sid Vicious. This is a song greatly inspired by Billy Idol's White Wedding, have no doubt about it. This song has a sexy grasp on the ears with solid 4/4 pummeling and decent riffcraft, making way to the aforementioned punk romance chorus with great anticipation factor. This peak sequence, in my opinion, is pretty efficient and integral for its character, and seems to solidify the presumption that, once a band has legit ideas (to steal), the "standard" methods to make it heavy, are more than sufficient to pull off a tremendous job. This traditionally instrumentalized song brings everything you could ever hope for from a goth punk romantic song. Goof heft, tremendous charisma. "GOOF???" Sorry. Tpyo.

"Death Comes in March" sounds to be a very personal delivery with the usual "that was my meaningless life laaaalala" delusion that always is the easiest way to suffer along with very mild spiritual efforts needed. The song's anatomy, frighteningly enough - for me myself and I - brings to this mind the character of a U2 song, and U2 always was the stinky gym sock of music in my world, including Bono's terribly undignified singing, rivaled - granted : surpassed - only by the merciless James LaBrie.

"Folie a Delux" is a slow-tempo Epic with a nice instrumental section checking in - for 5 seconds - at the middle, and, though this segment sounds to have a superb Blade Runner vibe to it, the main character of the song leans towards relentless-, and  decently constructed melancholy, my only qualm is the female choir, that gets utilized as a method to offer relevant content, but registers as everyday average streetside attraction at best, and a snob does not even take a peek at a streetside attraction, sorry, Ladies.

"Hail of Bullets" is sweaty as an obese old fart ironbar-bender in a circus, and, though it garners the last remaining drop of cheap intensity from the pond of toy-thrills with a desperate attempt to make itself passable during the chorus, its good galore of unfortunate traits - like a pinball machine soundtrack structure, pop festival synthetisers and your mom in hair rolls - make this song a pretty entertaining bad song. Think of the timeless classic Beat It from Michael Jackson, only without a true idea/plan behind it beyond the intent to reflect on its own nature as a heartwrenchingly blotched attempt to clone itself.

"Love's a Sickness" is another mid-tempo build with - in my opinion - disorganized, scattered segments, made out of straightforward-, risk-free verse structures and shallow instrumental interludes that reek the drunk-ass "gotta score a cougar" mood of a German beer festival where everyone is so fucking drunk than you need to be too to endure at the very least. This song has a respectable intent to save some of the day with interesting groove metal riffing kicking in at the climax, yet Pantera's T-Rex does not care to save too much of THIS day, it takes a piss, yawns and moves its ass to a more interesting place to devastate.

"Raving Hearts" is your favorite Goth boyscout song, that, in character, seeks to show similarities with the strong album opener, yet a row of relevant blemishes - like an incompetent guitar solo - bogs it down steadily. No wonder the "solo" - synonym : guitar strangling - gets interrupted by an out-of-nowhere ambient drone section, and, it is no use that the song seeks to go Silent Hill atmospherics on your hide, the track does not get a stable checkpoint, regardless of an acceptable chorus.

"Oblivion : Vision" is a perplexing, in my opinion, quite enervated slow tempo build with singing that becomes more and more that of a dying pedophile with AIDS and the flu, check the vocal delivery from 5:14, what the fuck!!? This song is somewhat of a mistake, in my opinion, but a big of it at least.

"Someday Somewhere Somehow", fortunately enough, is a decent album wrapper with a tight chorus that brings to mind the stunning peak moment of the opening track of fellow Finnish act Rainroom's latest. This song has a solid set of well balanced behaviors of intensity it chooses to exhibit, and packs particularly nice sonic modulations of great surprise power from time to time. I totally like how it goes for werewolfish psychedelic classic in a blink of an eye, and the whole thing is very sexy, fresh and strong. If this would have been the form brought by this album all the way, then I would give 9.0 or even above without hesitation. Here is one super-consistent record from Finland. But this is not the case, as this To Die For album, in my opinion, is not consistent, and has a fair share of uninspired moments. Still a likable record, but there are a lot of regions on it to not kiss instead.

Rating : 6.9 / 10

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Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Mournful Congregation - The Book of Kings review

Year : 2011
Genre : Funeral Doom
Label : Weird Truth Productions (JAP), Osmose Productions (FRA), 20 Buck Spin (US), Independent
Origin : Loxton, South Australia
Rating : 9.0 / 10

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Mournful Congregation's The Book of Kings ruthlessly emerges as the proper antidote for the most comfortably cultivated stock-hopes, giving your psyche 76 minutes to spend directly under the weight of a world that exhibits no hurries whatsoever to offer you direct comfort. The standard crawling protocol of the robust genre of funeral doom is in full effect, and now comes to you with especially crushing melodies of monstrous harmonic overpower via a fabric that can only be regarded as such a serious and relevant sonic contribution as that of the latest of genre-brethren Esoteric. Read a review of Esoteric's current to date, Paragon of Dissonance, here.

The temper of the game herein is eloquent, sober, and doubtless faithful to the consensus cause of the territory it wants to offer compliments to. As it usually - if not always - is with all funeral doom with the sacred common agenda, this LP insatiably seeks to devour the heart without any intent to mime otherwise, and this constant artistic behavior to fold a galore of efficient melancholy unto you, always comes with a dainty set of hands and a sober mind to command them, putting such crystal clear musical ideas into the nervous system that the inevitable emotional reaction you give to them is not necessarily of misery, - would be a terrible waste of that - as you are free to appreciate their musical cunning with a soul seeking no self-harm, too. Up to you. The record, - and me, too - we are both ready to see you suffer if suffering is your thing.

The release, of course, is slow like a half-eaten sloth that crawls to the ledge to end its torment, and the sound equally is super-similar to the metaface drawn by the relentless analog traditions of this sub-genre. The guitars are deep deep down and monumentally anti-reign like battle cruiser derelicts imprisoned by infinite wild space, - indeed, metaphors are sucking Magilla Gorilla's ass off - and the lead vocalist has all kinds of trouble in the throat and is not afraid to address them utterly and completely, and generally a healthy amount of this release comes to you as a truly robust testament of relentless harmonic soulcrushing. The Animal is in the harmony, bitches. The top of the heat this piece offers always comes through the most relevant harmonic constructs it is able to deliver, and, fortunately, they are working superbly. For the most part. This sentence demands explanation, and that should be given. Read on to find out more about the elaborate methods this piece seeks to silhouette your now-shapeless set of favorite pains with.


Melodically, this release has quite a strong marathon run demonstrated, and I personally feel it always has a superb grasp of its mere suction power, and administers the stimuli for optimum soulswallow effect thorough. Though the compositions are long on "paper" - the titular track clocks in at 33 minutes - the mere stance and agendas they communicate themselves with, are truly capable to bend time to their capricious will, so you are transported to a universe that has an entirely different concept of the flow of time than the one you are likely arrive there with. In other words : this release is not ridiculously long-, nor overwrought.

The melodies herein are oftentimes quite clever, - sometimes alibi, yes, like some folkish sequence I feel no reason to revisit - partnering up with gut-wrenching relentlessness to demand a reaction via the mesmerizing combination of deliciously dangerous harmonic passages and the tormented sonic timber of the monster-guitar that would rather lose its existence than its dignity, and if you manage to remain unaffected, chances are that you lack a heart or a set of ears, or all of those. As noted, the keen sense for simplistic-, but robust harmonic structures is the primer key element amidst the best tendencies of this delivery, and the absence of it - whenever it is absent - signifies the relatively weaker parts of this spin, in my opinion.

Mournful Congregation's latest is an eventful funeral with capacities to adjust your mood calibration through the set of top-form melodic patterns the album brings to the table, and, though I personally feel that the record has its fair share of less dangerous moments than I would prefer it to immerse me in all the way through, it still registers as a thorough-, pleasantly exhausting ride with a set of memorable peak moments. Do not forget, your mood is what you can end up with, and life does not give a shit. The proper album to silhouette your depression with, - if you have any - so you have a better grasp on the stuff. Kill or comfort your depression.

Rating : 9.0 / 10

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Devin Townsend - Contain Us review

Year : 2011
Genre : Experimental
Label : Inside Out
Origin : Canada
Rating : 9.1 / 10

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Don't ask Devin Townsend if he considers his music important, because he will answer. Devin Townsend's favorite subject matter is Devin Townsend, which can be a beneficiary fixation to be immersed in, - especially if you are Devin Townsend - and especially so if it yields the promise of results of surfacing up music that reigns free of the vile will to relate to ANY! expectation.

Oh wait. What the fuck, my music seeks to not to relate to expectation!! Is it expected?? Is it acceptable? It sure is, Devin Townsend! YOU will be the leader of the Resistance!

If you are not familiar with the workings of this significant musician, then know this : Devin Townsend has been in the front lines of entertainment since decades, and, before he turned into a solo artist to diligently deliver the music he feels good about, already has made a name for himself by contributing to the solo deliveries of many significant performers, among these, Steve Vai comes to mind. One of Devin Townsend's relatively recent delivery, called Deconstruction, is not one that enjoyed positive reception from any other group than the most rabid Devin Townsend fan, which is acceptable, considering how the options of the most rabid fan are narrowed down to the choice of which direction to fall towards when Devine emerges to declare.

In a recent interview - which came out prior to the day of this review - Devin Townsend offers you a Legendarium of explanations - synonym : excuses - why Deconstruction had to be the way it is, and you can check out that interview here. There is something - deeply bizarre in this interview, in my opinion, though I wasn't able to check it out all the way, as it causes terrible discomfort in me, as I'm starting to feel embarrassed when I think Devin should. It makes me feel kind of shocked how Devin Townsend talks for minutes and minutes and minutes about his own creative process using a nervous system that seems so exquisitely self-fixated that it indeed has no other ultimate function to operate along than to shockingly entertain the expectation level of the mooooost important fan. And the moooooost important fan is : itself.

Hard is the work of the artist, so such, that it only can be rivaled by the tremendous effort needed to endure the whining of it. This is totally normal, because it is abnormal, and Devin Townsend, regardless how I am unable to watch this interview, might indeed need to be relentlessly fixated on himself to be able to deliver in his "hit me, Lover!" top form, and curing the man might be the equivalent of causing harm. Let me clarify what I find odd about all this. In another interview, which you will - I suppose - search for if you are curious, the interviewer asks Mike Patton if he agrees that Faith No More has shaped the face of metal music to this day. Patton laughs and says that he has nothing to add to this, his job is to put out the music, the rest is for the audience to decide. I find this train of thought-, this attitude very sympathetic. And what I see in the Devin Townsend interview I just linked, is the utter-, picture perfect antithesis of this sober approach. Once again : don't ask Devin Townsend if he considers his music important, because he will answer. Read on to find out more about Devin Townsend's latest Devin Townsend product.


Contain Us comes to you with a variety of extras including DVDs, a drawing with Devin's autograph and similar attentive similarities that are definite delicacies for the fan. As a body of musical work, Contain Us is a compilation delivery composed of the highlight pieces of four-, - ?logically enough! - previous Devin LPs. These are : "KI", "Addicted", "Deconstruction" and "Ghost".

With great sense of security - like pockets jingling - I can state that the actual music on this spin is relentless, strong, well balanced experimental delicacy, and, what I personally find especially good about it, is the fact that it does not exhibit any need to be "always heavy" or be "always this" and/or that. It genuinely and effortlessly free, and I have the hunch that Mr. Townsend wanted to imbue the release with this quality in a conscious fashion.

The variety is superb. The delivery has its fare share of thrillingly sub-melodic - meaning : not OVERLY melodic, thankfully - metal warfare, though notice this : the chorus of track four, called "Juno" is supersimilar to the chorus of Stone Sour's Mission Statement. Agree?

Ho Krill is a sci-fi song you hear in the lounge when you want to sign a record deal with a company fronted by a cyborg, while "Radial Highway" is a mixture between the True Blood theme song and the experimental formation Mr. Bungle. (Only the True Blood theme song and Mr. Bungle are still both better, sAUrry, Devin.) Next track, called "Watch you" brings to mind a combination of Depeche Mode and Yello, which is one of the most thrilling direction of menacing popular music, in my opinion. Anyone else thinks that Yello and Faith No More are super-similar in their mood-set? I would like to hear your opinion on this. And not "sorry I don't know Yello." Then kindly shut the fuck up. Up, the shut fuck, you must.

I'm kind of content with the initial sequence of promising electro-pseudo masturbation consisting of buffed-up 8-bit glitch/noise teasing Devin Townsend seeks to market - with success - as pure fucking gold on you via the intro to the 19 minutes Epic "Traestorz". It has promise, though gives little to nothing to topple an 1987 Aphex Twin cassette. At approximately 3 minutes, the track goes for a stall and seeks to exhibit drone-ambient qualities for a while. At 6:34, you are in a warped-ass Tron movie with an anime chick flailing her laser saber around your hide. At 7:31, Devin gives you your average 4/4/ techno drum machine and hasty to topple it with an introductory solo guitar. Then a brisk bass of bad intent joins in, and you are riding on totally legit rabid electronic club music, but nothing of the sort that could be regarded as innovative or unusual. No. It sounds to me like pretty conservative club music, and I finds its background story more interesting than the state it seeks to communicate bloom in. Luckily, after an efficiently and smartly presented transition, the piece arrives to a demented-ass anti-drum and bass sequence in its later part. This is a nice sequence with experimental drone elements worshiping the twisted chaos they are children of, yet, the 4/4 reek-of-sweat drum and bass drum loop does not do all that much to them, in my opinion. The point arrives when Devin Townsend realizes this, too, and gives you house music with the same idea in mind, and a female sci-fi vocalist joins in, too. Though I have nothing against the drum and bass sequence, this house sequence feels more focused and successful for what it wants to accomplish. Yet, keep in mind : the experience you will be subjected to is very akin to what you would experience in a dance club. Devin Townsend is your DJ, "only", he isn't just the mixer, but the creator of the music, too.

Spin-wrapper "Sticks and Stones" sounds like a nice song to drive a car to when you have a corpse or two in the trunk.

The second CD of the affair shows a more restrained pacing and a calmer initial sound, a percept that is about to be shattered then reaffirmed again and again as the opening tracks exhibit playful irregularities in their temper and mood. The initial strategy noticeably is to offer tracks that go easier on the ears than the character of the first CD treats them as. A narrative, lush-, but plastic direction - think of Squarepusher - is omnipresent that is colored and supported time to time by an almost Black Sabbathian comedy-sludge, so to speak, but you WILL take this parody-sludge serious, and this is why it works.

With track called "Addicted", all hell breaks loose and decides to stick around. I dig this song steadily, and here is why : in character, this is a simple, elegant Boney-M disco track, but it intentionally is presented with tormented, miserable sounds. How can you not love THAT.

"Numbered" sounds to me like a legit grunge classic with strong set of melodies and a very interesting sonic structure. I mean : it sounds terrible, and sounds so sexy while doing that. That was the intent, no doubt. This is very bravely constructed music, that dares to assume that it will be listened by someone who has the awareness to "get" what it wants. But, it does not give a shit if one does not. This is a very ripe behavior. In the midsection, the song goes black metal for a grim minute with some odd creative choices - like pumping the volume of the rhythm guitar up and down, did it give you an extra layer of hair on the chest, Devin? When measured to the deceitful black metal that interrupts the flow for a moment, the comeback of the central quasy-grunge melancholy is of exceptional efficiency.

Next track, "Timmy", sports the exact same "who tortures that fucking guitar" rhythm guitar the previous song utilized, and the main attraction the piece starts out with is some power metal man - who is this, The Devin Townsend??? - who sings about in not too convincing fashion. Luckily, it all is but a trick, because the chorus of the song is extremely powerful, and, knowing that you will be given it again, the - in my opinion intentionally - shit verse comes back with a relentless agenda to demand respect from you before giving you its proceedings once more.

"Stand" is a superb instrume(n)tal piece in which Devin Townsend lets you know that he knows how to sculpt legit riffs out of emotion, which is kind of what a massive part of metal is all about. A heavy, elegant mid-tempo instrumental with a particularly funny - albeit short - interlude that seems to summon the retro sci-fi vibes of Plan 9 from Outer Space. Naaah, you are not exactly sure you want to type "plan 9 from outer space" into Google.

"Juular" sounds to have the Bertolt Brecht going on, and, though I love that vibe as much as I fear it, I find this song to be pretty "meh". It sounds to me as a song Devin Townsend could not do anything with, and eventually he convinced himself that it kicks ass. Tip : nope, it just sucks it.

With the track "Brown Man", Devin Townsend gives out his spiritual rant about Devin Townsend's fear of heavy music, amen to that. You can hear him talk about closely related matters in the interview I have linked in the intro section of this review. This sounds to me like deeply disorganized, - tautology? - unfocused and masturbatory, moreover : this sounds to me like the shit you could expect if the creator would have zero inspiration and desire to deliver music, yet possesses all the tools at his disposal to attempt to hide-, to challenge this fact. Some gaps are not meant to be hidden, and especially not meant to be revealed.

"Madd at My Dadd" is pretty similar. I imagine these are the tracks from Deconstruction. Wow. It indeed is pretty uhuh.

"Flies" is the 3 minutes safety zone song to show you a momentary relapse of the schizoid tendencies the previous two tracks have been propagating. Yes, it is a nice song, - it is from Ghost, I imagine - but not exceptional at all. It could be on any pop artist's any pop album, and every bush hides a pop artist, you just have to look for the thing. This : not sufficient.

Neither is next one, "Call Management", which at least packs the admirable quality of coming across as a country song performed by a retired spaghetti western actor in a retirement home, and boy, it packs that genuine MIDI factor, too. What. Evvver.

Now is the time to rebel, because I refuse to offer an opinion on the last two tracks of this Devin Townsend Deluxe Box Set. In conclusion, know this : I have enjoyed this monstrous double full length compilation very much, and I do think that the best aspects of it are of truly top of the heat qualities. The only blemishes I think it is exhibiting are the annoying-ass schizo metal pieces on CD2, and I'm not entirely convinced by the "Ghost" contributions, either. Though, must admit that hearing Devin singing with a reverb preset applied on his vocals almost makes me shed a tear.

Almost.

Rating : 9.1 / 10

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Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Electric Mary - III review

Year : 2011
Genre : Stoner Rock
Label : Independent
Origin : Australia
Rating : 8.6 / 10

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Electric Mary's III is stoked out stoner rock with buff-, snarly, efficient production values that constantly glorify the psychedelic inner cataclysm of the '70s through a haughty blues rock direction armed with a good amount of groovy and sludgy tendencies to address. The album is not hesitant at all to reveal its ultimate-, straightforward meaning right away, as the stimuli tends to register as a comfortably decipherable alloy of the following elements : Jimmy Hendrix without the heroin, AC/DC, and add a trusty does of not too radical southern sludge to the fray yet. With 38 minutes of showtime, this record has a sober understanding of its own agendas and related capacities, and it is not too risky to say that it remains stable and free of inconsistencies throughout the 10 tracks it takes its ride along. The operational field of this disc seeks and delivers no shocks or surprises, steadily defining itself as a premiere choice for any diligent fan of well tamed "Born to be wild!" stoner rock that which now comes to you with a lot of proper love surrounding it by its current practitioners. Read more about this likable stoner dog.


The album explodes into silence with top grade classic production values to reveal the nature of its musical lingo, which is no doubt a sight and experience worth to behold and collect. Order variable. The primer behavioral patterns this LP wants to entertain you with are nothing that is likely to catch you off-guard, but have all the chance to fix each and every aspect of your stoner cravings : the riffs are JUST sufficiently sculpted in their obese but muscular character, and the spin, fortunately enough, shows ever-present awareness of the frequency locations it is mapping out, so expect an adventurous ride in a high-octane hippie van that has an extra gear to authentically surprise you.

The record's mere sound is worth addressing further: it is a very carefully researched alloy that exhibits the capacity to reveal both lush and irony qualities, and it is the exact kind of sound you could imagine in your best dream relating to this music. So no caveats-, not even an empty space for them herein at all.

Electric Mary III's lead singer is an interesting presence in the mix, and now I'm going to write about this man. His timber sounds to me like a mixture between the AC/DC fronter and Phil Collins, and the vocal channel he declares his manly lamentations on, always is sitting in a superbly researched place in which it does not interfere with the anatomical integrity of its surroundings at all.

As mentioned, the album has an AC/DC musical narrative incorporated into its other primordial elements of psychedelic stoner rock and sludge, and it must be mentioned that at the climax of the record, this particular narrative - the AC/DC one - is bloated into the occult wild space territory of merciless Van Halen metal-love ballads that I personally find horrifying, but they just might be what you are looking for. The chorus of the track "Bone on Bone" is a perfect example of the music you can chase me out of all worlds with : pinkish glam-blend of the collective emotional mid-tempo ethos of Aerosmith and Bon Jovi. Granted, the lyrics might be about something else, but who has the time to worry about those when the music wants to kill you. Pretty shocking and paralyzing, in my opinion, but I must admit that it is absolutely properly done. Electric Mary has a key on her back, and she is running towards you. Prepare for your desperation move.

Rating : 8.6 / 10

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Burzum - From the Depths of Darkness review

Year : 2011
Genre : Black Metal
Label : Byelobog Productions
Origin : Norway
Rating : 9.6 / 10

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"From the Depths of Darkness" is a special - more on this in a moment - compilation album of legendary black metal one man band Burzum, "fronted" and maintained by the Original Black Metal Pope Varg Vikernes. By the way, "burzum" means "darkness" in a particular fictional language that has been developed by J. R. R. Tolkien to be used in his fantasy contributions. This compilation disc is more than an everyday average compilation release, and the reason behind this is none other than Varg Vikernes took the time and effort to re-record every single track he re-delivers on this release.

The majority of the songs are coming to you from the 1992 LP "Burzum" and the 1993 release "Det som engang var", and the creator does not at all want you to regard these new variants as the "proper" ones. These are new renditions of songs that already have been recorded, making it a special occasion by which the artist covers himself. It is nothing like a series of "simple" remasters though, and "more" would be an inappropriate term, as well. Here is why : the original vintage tracks, of course, are still sounding with that lightweight skeletal vibe, which in my opinion is a key element of the charisma of the genre, while, their new variants have intentionally been beefed up in radical - also sober - fashion to state their timeless verdicts once again, now with recent days production standards. Guys, let's talk about Burzum when it's ripped like fucking Rambo.


It doesn't take more than a few seconds to be mesmerized and steamrolled by this stoically demonic sonic entity if and when you decide that you are ready to accept it in the exact form it reigns in, signifying your willingness to actually hear it out. How. Appropriate. This compilation behaves in a very respectable manner, because it offers the rule book right away, and the first two sentences translate to :

"Oh hi! In a second, you will be mindfucked, and now is the time to chicken out, IF."

Varg Vikernes' music never ever lacked profound magic, as this man has exceptional talent of creating organic connections between separate sonic entities and making you the witness of their lush rendezvous. This music is very peaceful with the fact that it knows no peace other than the act of embracing the complete lack of it, and it would be a plain mistake, in my opinion, to regard ANYTHING from this body of work as negativistic. It sounds more like "honest" to me, and "honest" is the only kind of music or art worth listening to-, or checking out. Varg Vikernes doubtless has exceptionally deep access/connection to the "mere meaning" of darkness, which enables him to present the endless qualities and "patterns" of it with fluent inventiveness and sonic exigency.

Vikernes, think what you want about the dudette, but have zero doubt about the following, is a top of the food chain hookhunter with such awareness of the intent of menace that it commands the character of darkness to be consent to share more about itself than its mere obtrusive nature of void.

This is robust music, now with robust production form, too - but keep in mind that the skeleton variants of the vintage originals are superb fun, too - and, if you give it the serious ears with the courtesy of listening to the content, then "simply disliking" anything on this spin, "simply does not make sense", in my opinion. It is too crystal clear in its intents and shapes to tolerate such a rudimentary and cheap behavior-pattern to relate to it with. Disliking it is not enough, because it has no effect on it. So you will have to come up with some more relevant counter-attack to puzzle Varg Vikernes.

But, notice this : the music of Burzum does not at all seek to cause fear-, not even discomfort in you. It is the praising of another kind of beauty on the opposite side of what meta-perception can immediately recognize and embrace as consensus-beauty, but the beneficiary thing is that once the spirit attempts to accept and attempts to understand the sonic language of Burzum, - which is clear like a bitchslap, trust me - then the spirit necessarily becomes more finely calibrated to handle the shape of things to come. Fear has infinite faces, but every each one of them screams for peace.

Rating : 9.6 / 10

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Monday, December 12, 2011

Riot - Immortal Soul review

Year : 2011
Genre : Power Metal with a Thrash temper
Label : SPV Records
Origin : United States
Rating : 9.0 / 10

Buy it now

Now you and I need to put on our Shrek-cat faces, because Riot has been playing metal longer than you and I have the capacity to remember back to, claiming notoriety with the tremendous speedheft they enriched the pantheon of power chord fixated headbanging with. One look at the cover art of 1988's Thundersteel by Riot makes one sure that these musicians are serious and inventive about their craft, - the music on it is extremely fresh and positively dirty to this day, too - and this here current Immortal Soul lineup equates to that of the band's primordial original. The record has numerous faces and moods, and refrains from delivering along one particular behavior, like this one does, for example. While Riot remains faithful to the metal spirit of the '80s in the sense that the squad brings you the non-compromised vibe of the ethos via top of the heat production values, Immortal Soul still shows commendable urge to emerge as an eventful musical experience that practically reigns free of self-repetition. Let's go after these tracks.


Following its dainty, charmingly deceitful bantamweight instrumental intro sequence, opening track "Riot" collides you with good old fashioned intense power metal, and the structure of the main riff, - including the whole behavior of the song - greatly reminds me of Iron Maiden's "Be quick or be dead". The tempo and the heft both are charming, - and straightforward, too, like a handshake without pattern interruption - but the composition itself contains boring-as-website-love power chord roaming, which always is an embarrassment to hear, in my opinion. What I mean by power chord roaming, is the following : when the exact same power chord pattern gets transferred on the guitar's neck up and down. WOW! You CAN'T possible be badass enough to play your power chord in different neck positions, dudette!? You can hear a lot of the terribly boring power chord roaming method in a huge amount of Iron Maiden's music, too, - they seem to have abandoned it entirely on their latest LP, fortunately - and I personally think that power chord roaming always is a sign of an attempt to assuage the suspicion that the power chord roamer actually does not have the slightest idea of what to offer for neighboring sets of ears, including his own. Power chord roaming is unaffordably cheap, and you are, too, while you are doing it.

Don't.

The lyrical thought the song is gravitating around is pretty delicious and impertinent, as it poses the question : "what it's gonna take to make you riot?" This is a question with true popcultural sex appeal and a provocative edge. Put me in a room full of power chord roamers and a chainsaw, give us five seconds and witness the true meaning of rebellion from then on.

Track number 2, "Still your man", sounds to be a deeply personal delivery for someone the band has a long term relationship with. Maybe a previous lead singer? The song itself once again is deeply "power chordian" and old school in character, and, though utterly sorry I am for not being blown away by the chorus, the build without doubt is of superb craftsmanship for an orthodoxly diligent power chord roamer contribution.

"Crawling" - let's hope not power chord crawling - comes to you as an elegiac stare into a memory that breeds nothing but menace into the present, and the song sports a thick, serpent-like middle eastern vibe of unalloyed vile intent the clean mid range singing behaves interestingly on. It sounds like a complaint-, a confession to a monster, but, complaining or making a confession to a monster is a puzzling act on its own. In the chorus, the song abruptly goes for a radio friendly melodrama rock register via the classic "table for one at the bar" feeling, and the mood change is so radical and brave compared to the neighboring surroundings, that you can't help but kind of respect/tolerate that stale feeling and its operative decision. The song, though stable and discomforting - in a positive way, it is entertainment, remember? - all the way, comes to an especially efficient and powerful climax with the lead singer bursting out cosmic level power metal screams to the middle eastern riffing that knows no love by the time these one note songs of rage and helplessness are occurring. Tight!

"Wings are for Angels" engages intensive tempo once again, and sounds to reflect the lamentations of a rebellious soul-collective that does not commit the mistake of failing to rebel against its own nature now, as opposed to the act of seeking out a second party to rebel against. (Which is very standard and super-boring power metal protocol practiced by the imaginatively challenged (f)artist.) The lyrics are pretty clever here, which is something you can tell of most-, if not all of the lyrics on this spin, fortunately. "I lost all my friends and I lost all my fear. Nothing left to die for, they told me today. I’m staying another year..." Equally grim and humorous, equally serious and ironic. So you are the rebeller, huh. Sorry, nothing to rebel against today. Come back next year, maybe, and you can serve out your function to relentlessly - khm, systematically, khm - rebel, see you 'till then!

"Fall Before Me" is the track of the record that is directed to form that invisible spiritual jellyfish bond between you and your primary mistress. This one is a harmless, routine lighterwaver heavy metal ballad from the heart of a met'll brethren to the heart of the neighboring met'll brethren, and, of course, this intentionally dramatic reflection on the male emotional structure - pffff - gives an opportunity to the neighboring female to admire "man" as thesis for the sophisticated and esquire inner capacities the song seeks to grace him with via its lyrical assertions. In other words, this song is on the record so you can entertain your girlfriend to it, it has no other agenda or function than that, but, that one is a supremely important one, mind you.

"Sins of the Father" is a definite highlight for me. It is pretty much thrash metal in character with hilarious lyrics, - ... "why even bother with life, I know" ... - and comes through as if it would be a delivery from a top-form Dave Mustaine. The riffage herein is rabid, untamed and super-efficient. Thrash doing what it does best : thrashing everything, starting with you.

"Immortal Soul" is a witty and sharp mid-tempo build that is not afraid to invade your receptors with the most overused-, but also most efficient textbook heavy metal harmonic tricks to rob you out of ways you could escape from the Clutches of Epic Determination this track wants to embed into your nervous system at the gesture of the fingers holding the pick. A well structured-, straightforward verse of great anticipation invites a fine chorus that exhibits numerous fine moments in its fabric when its main arch collides with the underlying components of the harmonic structure. Another highlight, in my opinion.

"Insanity" is a strange bird. Lyrically, it is as tight as the album comes as. I'm quoting, but, purposefully : "Insanity, you light up the world for me. We rage and we kill, and we call it free will, we believe in it still. Insanity, you bring out the man in me. This demon within, it's evil & sin, right under the skin." An erratic verse structure that sounds to have a problem deciding its mood, - which is appropriate for the title - and delivers a thread-dance on promise and pure ineptitude, reveals a chorus that I consider average, at best. The lyrics are great, but the music on this one, I'm currently not so sure about.

"Whiskey man" reminds me of Megadeth's "Public Enemy Nr. 1". This is the easily consumable instant-impacter of the album, that which brings you the necessary elements with trust AND sufficient thrust, too : playful, risk-free verse, a decent pre, and an "uhuh" chorus. "Please call me whiskey man, when the bottle is in my hand. Another shot at my command." Wow. You are awesome. You must be pretty lonely, too. Sorry, I have to return some videocassettes.

"Believe" is a brisk, easy to grasp build with another variant on the verse-pre-chorus template, and an oddly rhythmized interlude also is revealed in the song. Everything is decent in the track, and currently nothing in it shows capacity to command me to revisit it.

Same is true regarding album wrapper "Echoes", that which in parts reminds me - don't voodoo me please? - to the Never Ending Story soundtrack. These two last entries of the album sound to me like angrier-than-average power metal, occupying a burned out storyteller position. I have the hunch that these two last songs have been recorded during the earlier sections of the creative process, - warm up, phah - as they are nowhere near the immense danger level the highlights of this sound album reign at, in my opinion.

Rating : 9.0 / 10

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Sherlock Brothers - Black Cat Tango review

Year : 2011
Genre : Alternative Rock with a Groove Metal temper
Label : Ninetone Records
Origin : Sweden
Rating : 8.6 / 10

Sherlock Brothers gives you a fronter with a condition that is not too rare to behold, and it is called TIPAF. The Immense Philip Anselmo Fixation, my love. This man tries to sound exactly like the Phil, as it could be evident to you if you decide to listen to the chorus of LP opening track "Rollin'". There is a video available for that song, too, which you can check out here, and you can hear that I'm no lie. Oh my. (YouTube this then : "pale kid raps fast".)

Black Cat Tango is all about the hefty hookhunt, and, about accessibility, in which the top moments are signified by the fronter's Philip Anselmo imitation, because he especially likes the tazmanian devil variant of the style. As result of this dormant decision, almost all songs on this LP have the tendency to revolve around a chorus with supremely heavy vocals on top. Not a tragedy, because, the Philip Anselmo clone of the release actually does a pretty solid job, and it is worthwhile to scrutinize how this style of vocal delivery is capable to sell itself on top of music that is tamer in character than the relentless rumble of groove metal. Read on to find out more about this friendly, energetic alternative rock release that dares to cultivate sex-only type relationship with groove metal.


I admit I was kind of an initial douché towards the lead singer, because, as the record progresses, you will notice that he has the propensity to deliver in his own voice AND sounds good doing it, - !!totally like Dave Grohl from Foo Fighters!! - and he relies on the Philip Anselmo Tazmanian Devil register only when the music submits to more radical shapes. Suffice it to say that the Sherlock Brothers frontman has put respectable efforts to imitate his idols, and has significant talent to approach the original efficiency level of the respective arch-forms of these registers, too. Now that this recognition is out of the way, the character of the music can be addressed, too.

Black Cat Tango is an interesting bird in the sense that it has an equal leaning towards a heavier side of chuggy mid-paced pummeling that borders on groove metal in character, and a risk free accessibility that, at heart, enjoys full family friendliness like Foo Fighters. Foo Fighters is your bestestest online buddy's favoritestest band like : since forever!!. This band, Sherlock Brothers though, no doubt represents an interesting take on the BLEND of its most important influences, and, needless to say, the "mere" act of blending these primer impacts is what the record's ultimate value graces your awareness as. The record commits only a few mistakes, and those mistakes are fun, too. Like a segment in track number 6, called "Down". (Is the name "Down" another Anselmo tribute?) In this particular track, a ripost-backing vocal goes Boyz 2 Men on you mercilessly, and it withdraws viciously when you already have grown yer' Them Men Boobs on yourself. Aua.

The record is a rather flamboyant, and, I dare say, strong collection of easily decipherable alternative rock that is able to reveal apt composition work and elegant thought. Sure, it is reminscent to Foo Fighters, but, hell, it is WILDER and much less saloon-, much less well-mannered, which I think is funny to watch, funny to listen to. This deviancy from the Foo Fighterish "somepartofmealwaysisyours, and lamdidamdadoo" telltale-bonefire rhetorics is the result of the groove metal gas tank the release does not relent refilling from, thankfully preventing it from going "don't wanna beeee your monkeeeey wreeee eeench".

TUKK!

This release also seems to have a rather conscious strategy to prevent itself. See how important one letter can be? Of course I meant "s". With 41 minutes of showtime divided amidst 12 sonic moodflares, only one particular track rises above the 4 minutes mark, and 9 clocks in during the 3 minutes domain. This is not accidental, trust me. This delivery openly-, and efficiently SEEKS to be an easily accessible collection of 12 hefty-, short-and-sturdy alternative rock fixes, and, to tell you the truth, it is pretty serious about it, too. A record of dignity, strength and energy that is not afraid to deny its influences, quite the contrary : it embraces them and builds something meaningful and relevant out of them. This is not only acceptable, but advisable. Album totally recommended.

Rating : 8.6 / 10

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