Hammers of Misfortune - 17th Street review

Year : 2011
Genre : Progressive Metal with a Black Sabbath Sludge tendency
Label : Metal Blade Records
Origin : United States
Rating : 8.0 / 10

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Hammers of Misfortune blends fine, disciplined musicianship with a keen affection on the classic sound of lazy, at heart semi-peaceful, semi-bitter "heavy" metal. You know, the kind of metal ethos by which the protagonist changes his mind about committing suicide, because he spots a female who certainly seems to be much more interesting sport than mere physical death, phah.

Hold on to your girlfriend or to your chair, because this right here is a progressive heavy metal album. It is so heavy metal that I remain reluctant to add the "heavy" label, and here is why : the term "heavy metal" seems to be so oldschool that writing it down makes a 28k modem feel fresh and vibrant like no tomorrow. One particular primer attribute of this record also reigns as the key deciding factor of how the stimuli on it will affect your receivers, and you need to be a scientifically negativistic person - synonym : a douché, and a black belt at that, too - to dismiss this LP as anything less than a highly admirable contribution. As for the deciding factor : it is the record's relentless behavior to scrutinize its own nature with such intense of a stare fixed on its own body that beats a statue in a staredown contest without even trying.

The LP exhibits an elegant haste to express its charms right away, and these charms, while valiantly varied according to their own terms and their shared field of operation, are somewhat limited by an ubiquitous decision to not to deviate-, to not to give the rebel middle finger to the basic "feel" of-, to the nearness of palish depression, bghaaaarghjhl. Hammers of Misfortune takes its name seriously, and, while the intent of the release is absolutely far from crushing you to laughable pieces like this or this, I still tend to think that the record sticks to its own direction

waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too rigidly.

It worships its capricious Metal Mistress relentlessly, without giving the poor thing a gasp of private breath to reflect on the experience for a second or two, you know? It sounds to me as good classic heavy metal music of a certain shape. Then, 20 minutes later, it sounds to me as good classic heavy metal music of the exact same shape. Ah, OK. Forty minutes into the record, and it sounds to me as good classic heavy metal music of the exact shape still, hello?? I accept : this might exactly be what you are looking for. Then read on, Lava'.


As hinted, this release sounds very, very, very : classic. It is completely free of the recent trends / aspirations to wash everything out to crystal clear-, even to robotic glitter-standards, but this notion consorts nicely with a secondary one regarding the mere power-, lushness of the LP, which reigns beyond criticism. The sound is vibrant, fat, and eager to roll over you. But, what you hear on this album on the emotional register, remains relentlessly long-hair-, black boot-, sorrowful face metal with more pronounced tendencies to mangle the self's integrity and to wave the blaming index finger, than to resonate in any other context with a "sole" function of entertainment. (There are a - luckily enough - limited supply of mid-tempo power metal vibes, too, and I think those are pretty frightening.)

The cover art is a perfect reflection of the things to come on this solid, classic-sounding spin : shadowy figures and blue light, now where did I see this before? Music is beyond doubt the most important thing on this full length, which is not always natural in an era with maniac aspirations to overproduce stuff. Though I, personally am not against overproduction, because it usually is better to produce something over, than to do that sloppily, or to not to at all. Hammers of Misfortune shows no interest in Dream Theaterish aural magic tricks and related-, secretly/covertly committed instant pocketwankeries, instead, every mood summoned on the spin is a reflection on the living bare body of music as it is invited by the classic metal instruments. But! There are pianos involved on occasion, too, and you know the piano deal : they rule, sure, but that mellow-, marshmallow-like pink timber they produce always throws a wink and a compliment towards gloom/drama or both at the same time. Granted, this is why you love piano, yet, keep in mind : with a piano on board to support a set of instruments with their favorite moody inner calibration engaged already, - and there are no other modes, so you have just been taued - this release has no intent to make you feel good or bad about existence. (Not that it should.) It instead seeks to deliver a beautifully realized-, serious row of compliments to the stone-classic face of so called classic heavy metal, and, in this regard, its success is super-impressive. Imagine a Black Sabbath with progressive tendencies, substract that badass vile factor of Black Sabbath, - audience : halved - and you'll have an idea where this spin is drawing and forming its respectable agenda from.

Once again : Hammers of Misfortune's 17th Street deserves nothing less than the steepest admiration for being such tightly and diligently realized as it is FOR what it seeks to be, and, if you are a devoted fan of the classic/ancient face of "heavy metal", then this spin is pure gold for you. If you are someone else, you can give it a try, but it will wear you out as a double sheet of titanium blanket, I'd say.

Rating : 8.0 / 10

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Putrescent Secretancy - Reconfiguration of Reality review

Year : 2011
Genre : Death Metal
Origin : United States
Label : Independent
Rating : 8.8 / 10

Independent death - hah! - group Putrescent Secretancy rumbles out with an LP that proudly sports disturbing enough of a cover to smuggle a covert smile under the hood of Emperor Palpatine, and the music on it is JUST the type of content you probably have longed for in case the artwork catches your interest, you perverted cosmic schmuck.

Reconfiguration of Reality packs 47 minutes of slickly written, superbly produced death metal, and it also is the deeply humorless kind of it with exactly zero desire - or tolerance, for the matter - towards attaining comfortable accessibility and all other chickenboy-sentiments of the similar sort. Fortunately, the exclusive invitees to this series of blistering-, good old fashioned inner private beatings are the monstrous sonic reflections of a decoded existence that accepts no comfort. These avid aural monstrosities are radiating their relentless character through their passionately shared/cultivated mega-angst and disillusionment-wizardry, which, not surprisingly, also comes to crush you proper as the record's main-, pretty much ONLY behavioral strategy. Thank God & Co. - including the band, logically enough - for that, because the direction of the death metal Putrescent Secretancy is into, IS a superbly thrilling style to subject silence to myriads and myriads of creative deaths with, har! har! har!

The record is a constant aural outburst with virtually no two identical sequences present on it, and, granted that the sequences are strong enough - and they absolutely are, Ladies and miserable Gents - then this probably is the most-, the exact stuff you could ever want to experience during a fine death release. The stimuli on Putrescent Secretancy's latest spin surfaces up from such a terribly ugly psychic place which only a creature with its wanted poster littered around Hell would want to hang out at, and, as such, this release is one of the premiere choices you can suck out your private black holes with in order to subject them to more sober scrutiny. Or vice versa. Read on, or keep on reading.


Manic, constant variation and a properly faceless kind of riffing are key factors herein. The riffs are faceless in the sense that they do not even seek to deliver a pattern for you that you can comfortably relate to, as is common to a less rabid musical dialect. They instead follow a relentless and ALWAYS clearly successful agenda to paint random aural demons on the empty canvas that is expressed through the ultimately musical canvas-body of perfect silence - ah, I feel I have a great moment now, sip! sip! - and the listening experience gets realized by the "mere fact" that you do not really have ANYTHING to grasp unto, because everything you COULD grasp unto, is out to tear a healthy chunk out of your sorry hide. This kind of music, make no mistake, is one of the hardest kind to create for sure, because a band has to be mad serious about flattering chaos in a way so blind potentiality As It Is does not dismiss them with a series of Norris-type flying roundhouse kicks to the face. When this musical strategy is taken to the steepest extremes, the result truly is magical, and it is safe to say that Putrescent Secretancy takes death metal with vocals as much away as it is possible, and, frankly, there is nothing else too much to be added to this via words, because some things are not meant to be (solely) talked or (solely) read about. Some things are meant to be heard first, and this record is one of those things. If you are a death metal fan, you need to check this out as soon as possible. If you are not a death fan, then you truly should feel robbed out of your time right now. Have a nice day for someone.

Rating : 8.8 / 10

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Megadeth - Thirteen Th1rt3en review

Year : 2011
Genre : Thrash Metal
Label : Roadrunner Records
Origin : United States
Rating : 6.5 / 10

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I like Megadeth and it will remain so even if the band decides to put out records with silent sermons on them from now on. Dave Mustaine is the creator of relentless bursts of brilliant songs, - let alone solos, you can have much of Symphony of Destruction's solo, but you can never have enough of it - and maybe it is just "normal" - bleh! - to put out an above average record from time to time. I can imagine that many fans will flame this LP right from the cover of it, stating : "The cover art, with the notorious Megadeth lich giving you its back, marks a conscious detachment from the meta-expectation resonated by the fanbase, as a hive entity. Oh yeah? Then let me rebel on high octane, because, frankly, I think the cover art is great, but I mainly am here for the music. So, let's see what Megadeth brings you with 13 in 11.


Opening track Sudden Death sounds to be an OK enough-type starter declaration, which does not at all mean that you must miss out on the profound sings of anti-inspiration the song's fabric exhibits. Notice the anatomy of the main riff. A cheap construction, to be honest. Fret abuse committed in the name of All Things Chromatic, only the "name" itself failed to accept the invitation, making this pneumatic computer riff pack everything but a playful function.

Public Enemy No. 1 is the hilarious anti-Rocky song of the '80s, and it has charm written all over it, just don't remove the clothes from this one. A verse with an interesting, odd rhythmic structure in the vocals is the peak moment of the track in my opinion, yet the chorus, unfortunately, is not all that tight. If the actual chorus would be a pre to introduce a catharsis the song in my opinion is lacking of, then I'd be sold without question. But right now, this is a song with a much more muscular verse than it can offer as its chorus. The chorus conveys a feeling of restraint, whereas you'd expect the mofo the song is about to embark on his rampant run. Absolutely great, classic Megadeth verse, and strange chorus. It reminds me of the staggering song Moto Psycho from Megadeth, which features a chorus that sounds surprisingly scant and uninspired to me, compared to the standards of the band. "Every! Body! izza! Moto! Psycho!" Me too, me too!!

The next track, Whose Life It Is is directed to the angst-fueled metalcore generation, probably. Dave Mustaine's start when he sings : "ooooooo" is kind of disturbing, I think. The song itself is a risk free microwave thrash statement, and its tools to garner the appreciation of your angst-ridden nervous system are limited down to the act of abusing good willed power chords who have no sin regarding the matter at all. It is an abuse in the sense that the melody on top of them is very lackluster, in my opinion. Dave asks with a pretended adolescent angst : "Hey, just whose life is it, anyway?"

Hey, just whose record is this, anyway?

Simplistic thrash mechanics, terribly submissive lyrics. Dave submits to the metalcore angst. "You hate the way I wear my clothes, you hate my friends and where we go, just whose life is it, anyway?" ... and so on and so on. Just whose lie is it, anyway? A present from Dave Mustaine to the apotheosis of metalcore frustration. Dave. YOU : don't need to do THIS.

Next track, We The People has this political rant-theme going on. Retrograde TV show metal riffage, with lyrics coming through the comfortably constrained armchair-rebellion register. The song has a frightening zoo metal vibe at its core, and, if you would be listening to this track with pop instruments, this one would be a Boney M piece the band - Boney M - decided it is not worth including on an LP after given a second thought for the matter. The song ends with a tight, short instrumental interlude, but this is a cheap attempt to bloat the virtually non-existent raw charms of a pretty pale delivery.

Guns, Drugs & Money starts out frighteningly enough, because a song with such a title invites grim suspicion right away. Fortunately, this caveat is eliminated on spot, because this song is one of the more stable installments. My most fond sentiment of it is that of a cute detective cartoon riff, on top of which Dave is singing : "Guuhhhhhuuns, Dhruuuugs, and muhhhhhhhuuuneeey". Oh, man. What about the tits, the tits, the tits, the tits, the tits, the tits, the tits, the tits, the tits, the tits, the tits??

(.Y.)

Never Dead starts out with atmospheric civil war drums, complimented later on by the first truly proper moment of the spin, finally! Superb rumble and killer "we don't give a shit"-grade riffing prepare the sonic domain for a classic Megadeth chorus that has that evil catchy factor. Tight verse, superb chorus, and an elegant instrumental break in the middle. A thoroughly fine piece with great pacing all over it.

With the next track, New World Order, Dave Mustaine offers his input on the Illuminati. Hello, Hollow One! The song has a restrained, tasteful structure that revolves around three primal sequences, and the short instrumental jam that lasts from the middle to the end, makes this one a better looking track than the majority of its direct predecessors.

Next track, Fast Lane, is another variation on Dave Mustaine's rampantly immense speed fixation. You can't pick the speed theme and crash and burn, pha. The riffing is sexily old school and orthodox, finds great pleasure in the resonance of the continuous chug. Stoic verse, a simple but truly efficient chorus both guarantee another acceptable routine cabaret thrash track. With 20 seconds remaining from the song, the band engages full power efficiency via a furious tempo to wrap the piece up, and this technique - a technique is a trick that works - to make you believe that you have listened to radically intense music, has no other chance than to work indeed, so there you have your 20 seconds of crazily intense music included on this release. Rinse, repeat, my love.

The track called Black Swan could be an OK-type Megadeth song that has that bluesy-, moody tint in its elegantly infectious melodies. Oh wait. I lied. Not entirely. In nature, elements of this song are sewn of the same exquisite fabric that superb statements like She-Wolf or 1000 Times Goodbye are composed of, yet, other elements of it are pretty rigid, and sound more like routine architectural works than legit sonic reflections of inner lamentations.

Wrecker unleashes a sense of restrained, playful female-bashing, and it is all right, as long as you adore women as the most peculiar creatures on this planet, and I'm pretty sure Dave Mustaine does that, too. Women rule, you know, and they are sexier than you. The song is an integral whole in character, yet its fabric is very simplistic, in fact, it is safe to say that it is rudimentary. The riffing your hear in this song is the background music for a Nascar DVD's menu selector feature, for a tender fuck's sake!

Millenium of the Blind reminds me of Guns 'N Roses' Civil War, only that song is more balanced and has much more weighty character. This track has a teenager-metal chorus, primarily assuaged by simplistic 4/4 pummeling , which is toppled by Dave's heavily processed narrative. Another track in the record's body that offers very limited supply of things worth revisiting, in my opinion.

In Deadly Nightshade, Dave Mustaine is your evil circus master in this archetypical cabaret thrash metal installment, and he invites you to enter a world only the brave and determined dares to frequent as a valiant visitor, or something like that. Once again, very standard, monotone 4/4 pummeling with unforgiving powerchord abuse, kicked in the ass for good measure by the ugly foot of a pale, enervated chorus. This song reeks Motley Crue from 1989, and I'm pretty sad about that, too.

Titular track, 13, is a spiritual rant about the paradigm of Nietzschean eternal return, but, if you do not feel like losing your mind right now, - which is a terrible thing to lose - then know that the titular song remains a risk free ballad at the end of the album. As for its main mechanics, it mainly revolves around a shy chromatic melody with which Dave's vocal lead collides in a sober, but not at all too exciting fashion. The mid section brings you TV show riffing for some bars, then, you will get the chorus in standard mid tempo. By that time, chances are that you will be asleep already, so, who cares, anyway. With a core riff that has quite limited capacity to intrigue in rapid succession, the titular track also tells much of this album. This song, 13, would have been the track you lose attention during on a stronger Megadeth release. At personal perceived value, Megadeth's latest has many solid moments, - none I currently perceive as instant kills - and a tad too much of the zoo metal nonsense to regard it as another true gem in the band's already timeless resume. The album feels a bit unbalanced. Whenever the band engages mid tempo on this album, you have that detective cartoon vibe, I think. Well, 13 is not always the lucky number, and the lucky number is not always 13.

Rating : 6.5 / 10

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Odd Logic - Over the Underworld review

Year : 2011
Genre : Progressive Metal
Label : AM Music
Origin : United States
Rating : 9.2 / 10

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Deeply underrated American progressive metal squadron Odd Logic comes forth with a monstrous full length that is practically stacked with finely sculpted delicacies from start to finish, despite how this release declares galactic scale war to conquer your very best honest attention via a stupendous running time of 1 hour and 9 minutes. The anatomy of this fine aural contribution reflects the music I "anticipated" - what a terribly, terribly snob word - from the latest Dream Theater - ah!, aaah!, aaaaah! - disc, only, this time the gloom trodden power metal stench I would have been so keen to missing out on in the supersmarmy company of THAT particular album, is nowhere to be found, luckily enough.

This robust, sci-fi tinted Odd Logic statement has wank-free intricacy and tight compositional efforts realized on it pretty much without stop or any blemishes you could valiantly point the index finger on, and, this time, thank God and Co., there is no need to question the progressive nature of the album, either. Odd Logic's Over the Underworld is highly aware of the steeply priced defining qualities of the genre, and that latent-, untold progressive requirement of rabid, yet sober flamboyancy is created and maintained by every single minute of the stimuli. In other words, this full length has immense work in it, and, look! This IS progressive metal, oh my God it really IS that, oh God!!!4

Sure, in an ideal world, you would not need to be staggered about the fact that a progressive metal album actually PROGRESSES, but, recently me, myself and I - along with the guy who is writing this - personally saw examples when Dr. Albanish pop metal is embraced by the delightful deceived as the finest progressive sonic stimuli to grace the silence of recent day cosmoses.

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If it is about entertainment with alleged capacities to shape a soul, - notice : the entertainment that lacks this quality is not even worth its title - then it is not a sane thing to get satisfied with anything less efficient or more abject than others ARE willing to give to you, courtesy of they having both the capacity and the propensity to give it for real. I'm telling all this, because this here is a serious progressive metal album without ANY deceiving tendencies, and the only way it is using to get to the epitome of progression, is leading through JUST that. The only entities on board are the fine music in the company of tight creative power and the rigorously focused work that are fueling it. Guys, let's talk about the music.


In nature, this contribution shows similarities with Arch & Matheos' latest bionic creation, only this time, the beautifully chug-fixated complexity gets a sonic room with more freely-, more playfully positioned spaces in it, as result of tasteful wall of sound quasi-choruses - more on this later - and efficient mini-breakdowns. The release is not at all reluctant to rely on cybernetic synthetizers, and those are looking absolutely vicious when toppling in a timelessly classic and classicly timeless Faith No More fashion the GIGANTIC rumble the album's rhythm guitar is capable to produce. The sound of the rhythm guitar here demands a scientific essay on its own, to be honest : it is ridiculously wide and evil, and sits in a PERFECT place in the mix. This chug produces an almost percussive effect, while having a very sober understanding of its own functions.

As for the song structures, these are inventively, soberly capricious builds with myriads and myriads of defining prime elements per track, which will be much more easy to believe when you consider that the shortest track on this release is 9:15, - saved for a secret track of 1:45 minutes of silence - while the longest weighs in at 20:34, so do not eat chili beans while subjecting yourself to this baby. The well varied anatomic structures of the songs are prone to reveal a honest, thrilling sci-fi vibe riding on its autonomous fixation towards mid-tempo soul grinding, and heft always IS mandatory. And, what is best, once you are accustomed to a great-, restrained mid tempo riff and realize you are given no other choice than to like it, all of a sudden it gets its butt kicked proper by a Pantera-like monster riff that shows its roaring "I hate everyone and everything and now I will fuck you up, too" face around for half a minute or so for good measure. Same is true to the structures of the melodic singing work : verses and choruses are elegantly utilized, but not at relied upon, and this compositional behavior is very interesting to listen to. A narrative stance with healthily belted ringed notes that last for five eternities, are commanding the verse sections, and the choruses/intermessos are bringing the elegant catchy factor in without you being forced to produce a twitch or two at both corners of your mouth. As for the timber, the mood of the vocal contribution, the singing is an exclusively clean, brisk midrange. Soulful and dignified in character, even when deeply restrained and lyrical, no James LaBrie "please sing a handkerchief for me for this, too" factor.

It is worth mentioning that the tremendous rumble the album produces is the result of a noticeable decision to cover the entire content into a quite present - but not at all overshot - reverb effect. This gives the album a cybernetically lush and unforgiving quality that is a superbly thrilling feeling to immense yourself into, and it weighs on the psyche as the french kiss of a black hole, but hell, this exactly what the idea is. If you want to hear progressive metal that fulfills and tastefully flatters-, even worships the extremely high expectation levels of its ruthlessly demanding genre, then picking up Odd Logic's Over the Underworld is top priority, Ladies and Gents.

Rating : 9.2 / 10

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Insomnium - One for Sorrow review

Year : 2011
Genre : Melodic Death Metal
Label : Century Media
Origin : Finland
Rating : 8.8 / 10

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With its freshest full length to date, Finland's Insomnium rains down not hellfire but a squad of Nordic avalanches on you, doing it with tremendous charm and ruthless efficiency. This record has an icy, positive, dignified "storyteller" attitude, and the whole thing reeks - in a similarly positive way - the Burzum black metal vibe, now though blown out to occupy top level aural real estate capacity. The tracks on this spin are abundant and playful musical constructs, and it is safe to say that less efficient declarations are not part of this fine inner sightseeing.

The primordial-, "Burzum-like" vibe of the release is your totally appropriate modal fix to get ripped to shreds by a pack of rabid wolves on the thin ice to entertain the withered moonlight, yet, Insomnium's One for Sorrow is clearly a record that commands you to feel reasonably good about being ripped to shreds. The LP introduces and tastefully maintains a sense of frosty, sorrowfully and frighteningly sexy fantasy narrative, - not buttbuddy nor acquaintance of cheesefestation fantasy power metal - and makes it work superbly by pulling out melodic hooks from behind every single mammoth tree you come across in this intriguing sonic forest. Guys, let's talk about the music.


One for Sorrow's most fine attribute to notice and be delighted about, is its capacity to be flamboyant and focused with heft, grit and tenderness, all at the same time. The LP has a whole lot going on along its perfect length of 53 minutes. While the general flow of things revolves around the timeless fun of well varied sonic rumbling, the complementary ingredient is a propensity to throw a cleverly placed wink to Nordic folk vibes, and let me tell you that these viking folk vibes are looking truly great when their qualities are addressed by frozen lich king guitars plugged into monolith-amplifiers.

Insomnium's latest is a highly likable piece of silence massacre, and you can't miss out and be serious about it on the dozens of fine little subtleties the tracks are packed fully with. FULLY, indeed. Most of the time, there are 3 or 4 aural layers present ONLY in the mid-range register, so you will have ample occasions to cultivate attention to the high frequency details the mere fabric of the record graces you as.

Sober accessibility coming in with tremendous heft and through myriad forms, is key factor of this release. The choruses are elegant, the death metal growling sucks your soul out through your eyes and spits it back through your ass, and the whole album has super-tight focus-, relevant melodic inventions and sober balance written all over it. All in all, Insomnium's One for Sorrow is a record with full blown potential to turn its listener to a werewolf with an agenda, and hell, what is more manly than that!?

Rating : 8.8 / 10

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Lou Reed and Metallica - Lulu review

Year : 2011
Genre : Avant-Garde Drunk Metal
Label : Warner Bros., Vertigo
Origin : United States
Rating : 3.5 / 10

Buy it now - the Deluxe Edition is only $168, after all.

Kicking into Metallica is no act, nor daredevil sport these days, yet the super-notorious formation once again comes out with a sonic shockumentary, now teaming up with Lou Reed, who delivers - hm - poems (??) along a kind of broken man / drunktard narrative with Metallica's - most often - enervated, tired and seemingly uninspired background jam.

The lyrical content is based on a character called Lulu from a German play, but, if you are interested in that more seriously than this album has aspiration to ease your related thirst, then you want to check out G.W. Pabst's movie adaptation of the plays, called Pandora's Box with ultimate jazz baby Louise Brooks as the lead character Lulu. This is a silent movie, a robust cinematic masterpiece, and, this minor-, and not too relevant clusterfuck of a record would be so much better if it would be a silent record, too.

There are no intricately sculpted riff-flows on this double barreled CD set, Kirk Hammet plays one solo and I guarantee that you'll wish he had NOT, so, if you are looking for top of the heat aural pleasantries and music with meticulous work in it, then this Lou Reed / Metallica creation will leave you with a gigantic red plüsch dildo and a Bazinga!, rest assured. This record is about Lou Reed, and Metallica gives the background FOR a record, that is about him. Everything is all right, so far. But! This release implodes under its own ambitions legendarily, which is interesting to watch, but kind of terrible to hear. One has the secretive impression, that, coming to this collaboration with the Metallica crew members, Lou Reed had the plan that he will have the rampant Frank Zappa going on on this album. Oh well. Man plans, God delivers.

The creative efforts sound to be pretty consistently low level on this double spin, - exceptions to be addressed later - especially if you stick to the Zappa comparison and try to approach this studio - hahaha! - product with an awareness that has Zappa's related work in sight. Do you know the song The Great Jazz Discharge from Mr. Zappa, for example? He gives out a hilarious drunk rant about - well - various stuff, but there is Steve Vai behind his back, who follows the anatomical sonic structure of Zappa's rant on his guitar. Wicked stuff. In other words, you hear a superbly imitated drunk turd having his miserable rant, but radically legit and elusive music ALSO is created along the way, courtesy of the exquisite guitar content played by Steve Vai, who always was / is / will be superb at imitating human speech on the strings. Imitating human speech with guitar takes m4d sk1lls, man.

Regarding this record, I have the feeling that Lou Reed and Metallica tried to summon a similar feel than the Zappa song mentioned above, only ended up spurting out a sloppy, pseudo-spontaneous, fucking mess, but, at least, galores of it. There is nothing wrong with creating a mess, but selling it as the final product occupying a double CD is rather hilarious / shameful of an idea, take your personal pick. I know this next sentence will sound like one of a proper snob in pink bath rob, - which one of mine does not eh?? - but here goes : this release seeks to shovel down on your throat a sense of forced spontaneity/intimacy, that which though tends to lack minimal levels of exigency, even.

Solidification of this notion : this review will address all tracks on the first CD, and you can have some of the rest on the second for your own discovery, but let's take a quick preview at track 2, called "The View". Do you like this super-simplistic sludge riff, which could be a shy intermezzo on a proper sludge release? You better LOVE it, fangirl/fanboy, because you will have 3 minutes and 50 seconds of this pattern before James Hetfield shows momentary mercy. In other words : this record takes you for a fool, and does that very shamelessly, too. Read on to find out more about this relative embarrassment or don't.


Track 1, Brandenburg gate is the 4 minutes long glorification of a not at all inventive power chord arrangement revolving around the C, G and F bonfire chords. Yes, you can sing Knocking on Heaven's Door on it and other 23894723894239 songs, as well. After eternal minutes of relentless chord pattern repetition with Reed's sentiments on top, James Hetfield finally sings "small town girl" on every C chords, while Lou Reed talks about stuff in the empty space that remains between two "small town girl"s.

Track 2, The View revolves around a simplistic, but decent riff, giving support to Lou Reed's follow-up declaration about how he wants to see you giving up your life of reason and stuff. The crude flow of the music is interrupted by a more intense intermission with Hetfield on vocals, but, the efficiency of this sequence is partly due to the relatively lackluster form of magic inherent to the central sonic "mass" of this sorrowfully "balanced" track.

Track 3, Pumping Blood is a reluctant-, kind-of experimental build that fails to turn into anything yet via its intro section - regardless of the tormented cello, but at least they have tried - then Lou speaks about stuff - because Lou likes to do that on this release - with an ambient musical BG rendered by the Metallica dudes to support the worded sentiments. Later on, the lazy build is aware enough to imbue a sludge-ish tint into the architecture, but this tar-potential collapses back to where it came from before venturing forth into another direction it could have looked good on. Reed once again exhibits thoughts of profound-, and high level misery in an intentionally rhythmic fashion, and Lars Ulrich, fortunately enough, is quick to command some riffage into the build via strict pummeling. This riffage though is very hard to decipher, it is more noise than notes with meat on them. Lou is relentless at delivering his lines along the same modal intensity. The crude, enervated experimental "flow" arrives to a simplistic breakdown at the end, and the track concludes.

Track 4, Mistress Dread opens up with solid, old school thrashing, but it quickly turns out that the very first bar of the intense thrashing is all there is to it, too. A withered vocal babbling joins in - it would not do justice (not for all nor for anything else) to regard it as singing. Lou's mutter sticks around persistently, and you find yourself with the same 1-bar thrash riff being played 3 minutes into the mix, and Lou still has a whole lot of issues to address along the same modal register. Ugh.

Track 5, Iced Honey starts out like a Sammy Haggar rom-antic with drunkass sludge guitars, and Lou Reed here actually tries to sing, and even succeeds. By 1:20 into the song, you crave variation badly, but Lou Reed keeps telling his stuff about a butterfly as I recall, supported by sloppily produced quasi-sludge. Sometimes Hetfield joins in with tight singing for a bar or two, stating : "see if the eyes will melt for you." Nah, it probably is "ice." A highly uneventful song, and I have major qualms regarding the production values on this one, too. This does not sound any better than something that has been picked up from the waste bin of the studio, to be honest. But, if you are a troll on a carnage, I would not be the one who laughs his ass off if you'd say that the entire release is sloppily produced, and exceptions are few.

Track 6, Cheat on Me starts out with a mellow instrumental sequence that has an oriental, tender, risk-free tint to it, and the bass that is about to reveal itself, has a superb, fat presence, adding to the shape of things in a legit, flamboyant, fluent fashion. Lou Reed joins in at about 3:00, and, in this build, his broken man narrative is solid and authentic, yet, his stuff keeps on demonstrating lower values. "Why do you cheat on me?" - he asks. Pha! Because you fail to give the chick proper fun, that is why. The song's fabric later on is complimented by Lars Ulrich's classic mid-tempo pounding, and a sober limitation on the guitar's presence makes this song the first "healthy-looking" track on the record. Cool.

As noted, there is a whole other, autonomous second CD on board, but, these deliveries are not a tad more interesting nor different than the content found on the first disc. Not in character. They are though, lengthier. Sometimes inept, frequently masturbatory, and in a constant, embarrassing "spazz" to be highly original, this double release generally seems to be a mess with very few saving graces. As for the these beneficiary aspects, they mostly will coming your way when Metallica decides to rumble around for a minute or two, - never more, unfortunately - but these moments are extremely scarce. And, while there are about 4 minutes of legit riff work here as I recall after enduring this double spin, rudimentary pattern abuses are degrading this installment greatly. What's up with the main riff in the track called Dragon, for instance? This ain't as good as to play it around for 8 minutes, yet this exactly is what the album does. The second CD's Little Dog is a perfect example of the hidden track the album should have featured. Mellow acoustic jam with a restrained, tasteful southern vibe, and Lou Reed's performance is legit in this track, because he does not sound like a drunk. The avid Metallica fan though will dismiss this as unacceptable, lackluster cowboy-ambient.

- sigh -

Once again, I have no intention to kick into Metallica, they have shaped the music in me as they did in numerous other souls via dozens and dozens of timelessly great songs they have written during their illustrious career. Yet, this record, for the immense part of it, simply sounds to be way too sloppily-, inappropriately spontaneously realized and - most often - ridiculously repetitious (looped simple riffs in your face for minutes, WTF?), to be seriously enthusiastic about. If they would give it away for free, it still would be kind of an insult for the band's ultimate legacy. That 1 song I liked without any restrain about the Little Dog, what do you want? - and a cowboy-ambient Thus Spoke Zarathustra-knockoff at the end of the second CD is not enough to make me a happy troll. Metallica with Lou Reed on board - more precisely, Lou Reed with Metallica on board - is not a major disaster though, at the end of the day. It is a minor one, only.

Rating : 3.5 / 10

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Criminal - Akelarre review

Year : 2011
Genre : Thrash Death Hybrid
Label : Massacre Records
Origin : Chile
Rating : 9.0 / 10

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With its barebone declaration - ha, ha. - Akelarre, Chile's Criminal delivers quality aural fun through the thrash / death consortium that seems to establish itself as a relevant and super-efficient direction of recent metal music. The first occasion I personally have heard this hybrid sonic rampaging being ruthlessly administered before, was located - and still is, by the way - on Deceased's highly recommended Surreal Overdose, and the similarities in character between that release and this one, are hard to miss, even if you try. Pointing out these similarities is an act one can commit with honest delight though, and here is why : this thrash / death blend demands top of the heat level playfulness and creativity from their creators, because it must (nevertheless ShOULd, all in capitols) exhibit both the melodic aspect of thrash and the massive robustness of death metal. You can't lie and succeed in creating a thrash / death affair, you have to MEAN it, at the VERY least.

Deceased means it with its latest declaration, and it sure as hell is for a pedophile priest that Criminal means it, as well. This record does a great job at revealing the bastard thrash / death Animal with the tools of granite solid, vile riffing and larger than life intensity, intensity that bows to no brake on board. Guys, let's talk about the music.


Criminal, fortunately enough, throws everything but the kitchen sink at you, - but maybe they did that, too? - and they are pretty aware of the current location of your aural attention all the time. Akelarre brings you ten tracks with a very sane - ?? - program length of 41 minutes, and this amount of time guarantees a comfy-, yet not at all self indulgent space to precisely reveal the Thing on. This LP at heart is pissed like an incoming grizzly after a sedation shot, and still keeps a constant focus on its own sonic character, never trading mere heaviness in for elegant variation. Fifth track, called State of Siege is a good example of the primal attractions you can bath in with this rampant release, as this particular song reveals crisp illustrious segments of all the main elements the band is keen to do on the record. Classy, invigorated old school thrash riffage riding on a robust death-ass, and, while you would honestly be all good already with what the band gave you so far, they topple the cake with a SUPERB melodic chorus, and NO, I don't mean metalcore-like whinefests committed to embarrass the generic sky. The chorus architecture brings to mind the chorus of Rainroom's superb opening track on their debut LP, making efficient use of a soul-swallower doomy feeling that is relentlessly carried along on the bastard pauahorse of the thrash / death blend.

The favorite shape of things herein revolves around the epitome of heavy and equally catchy riffing, complimented later on by the clever placement of inventive emphasis throughout the bodies of each build. Solos are included, too, and hell, these are pretty properly presented solos : they are absolutely free of all intent to deliver you a catalog of the wankfest tourist center, and one very pleasant extra thing to recognize is the mere sound of the solo guitar. It is thankfully free both of the effect-wizardry and the over-presence. The solos are situated on one particular primal channel, leaving the other sonic landscape on the other side virtually untouched, and, this way, the riffage remains tight and present in the mix, no problem. As for the sound and shape of the solos, they are truly "proper", do not seek to tear out random minds around, and they are coming in with that pleasantly raw, distorted "default amp" sound known for its classic, angry grit and its haughty determination. You know, the distorted guitar sound you will return to with a relieved sigh when you have checked out the 1111 effects your amp comes with.

Full efficiency-, and mid-tempo engagement modes are elegantly complimented and served on the LP, and there virtually is no time by which you would be harassed to endure the exact same pattern on two successive occasions. One minor qualm to cultivate regarding this tights release is the melodic key some of these raging declarations are reigning in : sometimes, the track that follows the current one up, is in the same melodic key, and they - logically enough, I suppose - both are occupying the same sonic domain, giving you a sense of sonic-domain-abuse, so to speak. (I know I know, this is a mania of mine, but I have some others, too.)

Criminal's Akelarre has a whole lot of quality content to soak your hungry-for-the-extreme ears into, and it is quite safe to say that the release is a risk free recommendation both for the death metal fan, and the thrash metal fan. To be honest, I have no clue what you are doing here still. Go and get the fucking record??

Rating : 9.0 / 10

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Peter Gabriel - New Blood review

Year : 2011
Genre : Orchestral Soft Rock
Label : Real World / Virgin
Origin : UK
Rating : 7.5 / 10

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Peter Gabriel comes out with another cover album, on which Peter Gabriel covers songs by Peter Gabriel, but, in an orchestral fashion, to make Peter Gabriel's catalog even more flamboyant than Peter Gabriel's catalog - with a 2010 orchestral self-cover LP included in it already - is.

This second symphonic burst of self-covers exactly is as exciting as the previous sentence sounded, and that excitement-factor is totally dependent on the individual. New Blood has tremendous drama / rampant self-indulgency going on - depending which direction and mood you are approaching it from and with - and one can imagine that it is as easy to like this album greatly, as is to dismiss it as a repetitious monster length with perfect symphonic background supporting the vocal lamentations of Peter Gabriel. Indeed, some singer chicks are joining in sometimes, but one's voice is pretty stock, and the other one gives me a series of successful nervous breakdowns, and none of them are able to approximate the sheer-, stable character of the sorrowful animal tamely revealed when Peter Gabriel unleashes his famous mixed voice singing skill set. One has the suspicion that Mr. Gabriel felt this album would be highly self-fixated if to contribute his own voice on it, only, and this decision to include stock singing ladies here and there, is mature, I guess. Read on to find out more about this release.


As hinted, and, with its not at all non-ambitious 77 minutes, New Blood is a super-thorough record for what it is, and also one that sounds to address the 3 types of primer moods it has over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Not much though, if anything is wrong with this scheme, because this release has no intent to rewire your approach towards Peter Gabriel. It is directed mainly for the fans of-, AND for Peter Gabriel. For them, this is exquisite material, offering a muscular angle to scrutinize this body of work from. This stimuli partly registers as a family-safe Walt Disney cartoon score, partly as a statement given to a psychotherapist, and the content always remains lush and rich, because an orchestra with such skilled musicians in it, though COULD go wrong in theory, it does not. The orchestra has totally great peak moments by which no string remains untouched and no brass remains lipless, those are very pleasant to endure.

The special edition of the LP invades your cosmic receptors with two discs, and Peter Gabriel himself must have been supremely satisfied with the work of the orchestra, because the second disc contains instrumental variants of the tracks. Without the singing, the music claims the form and tender rampancy of flawless, powerful cinema music. The same is true with Gabriel's presence on board throughout the first disc, but its function becomes much different when backing a lead up. The orchestra, paired with Gabriel's famous mixed voice gloom register, without doubt produces an intimate listening experience right from the opening minutes, and this solid, trusty, thick, risk-freely predictable sonic grasp is maintained on you all the way if you want that. Amen to that, baby!

Rating : 7.5 / 10

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Lich King - Super Retro Thrash review

Year : 2011
Genre : 8-bit Thrash Metal
Label : StormSpell Records
Origin : United States
Rating : 8.0 / 10

Lich King - this is what I call a perfect band name AND a perfect cover art, to be honest - comes out with the first 8-bit thrash metal full length, and the results are outright hilarious : ever wondered how your first generation Nintendo Entertainment System would fare in resonating metal that has no less of an agenda than to waste stuff on sight for the sheer fun of it?

Among other truly relevant things and motor synapses it has created in millions and millions of nervous systems living on the face of Gaia, NES also has its immense and timeless musical heritage, - the Super Mario theme is a piece of music perfectly suitable to send out into space to contact little green spacemonkeys with - and now these classical 8-bit sound generator algorithms are ignited on top capacity to bring you absolutely SOLID thrash metal, in its architectural character. Read on to find out how your Super Mario 8-bit Thrash Lich King emerges to invade your soul to claim it as its own for the sake of highly radical private amusements.


Lich King's 8-bit thrash is rampantly old school - sorry?? - and fluently varied, and the primer fixations of the release, fortunately enough, are coming your way on the respective registers of maximum level thrash-, and menacing mid-tempo attack modes. There are no pauses here in the almighty body of the 8-bit mindfuck, and, to be frank, no one needs them, either. The tracks follow the classic thrashy compositional techniques, yielding declarations that reveal complex 8-bit sonic architectures, and one caveat that is quick to reveal its doings is the band's decision to administer the majority of the dosage on the same aural frequency. At least, it sounds to me that the tracks are immensely fixated on the low E string, which, of course, is a MUST to be fixated upon as a manic guitar molester, but, in my opinion, it is advisable to ATTEMPT to hide this fixation, and not get all too much relied on it.

Apart from this though, as it is stated on the album's back, all songs are awesome, and this is not a blatant exaggeration at all, saved for one other qualm - as extra - that needs to be addressed. The songs indeed are legit, old school thrash builds, yet the album features a very limited amount of lead work, - crazy-ass solos, for example, which I wished for greatly - in fact, almost none. The next Lich King installment, if the band decides to stick with this hilarious 8-bit thrash direction, will demand thrashing solos, for sure.

Lich King's Super Retro Thrash has tremendous charm and an unprecedented degree of sonic shock value, and it is a good idea to take in just one or two pills at a time, so the release has its chance to communicate the content along the same fresh 8-bit vibe, eliminating the feeling of the "E" fixation during a listen that follows up a gap.

Rating : 8.0 / 10

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Iced Earth - Dystopia review

Year : 2011
Genre : Power Metal
Label : Century Media
Origin : United States
Rating : 6.5 / 10

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Iced Earth's latest studio package is the solid equivalent of a portal device, because this right here is your all-time favorite mobile cheese storage that contains a hyper-abundant amount of rebellious platitude, embodied by the LP's quite consistently anti-exigent lyrical content. The anti-exigency - it is assuaging to write it down twice than not to at all - exhibited in the lyrical contribution on Iced Earth's Dystopia is so fantastically rampant when at its peak moments, that it becomes an unexpected and quite steep challenge to appreciate the actual music ridden by the weightless, naive textual status reports the album is a rather muscular galore of.

- "Prepare for Victory!, WE! are the Resistance!, Victory CALLS!"

- Yeah? Skip the track and tell her I'm busy.

This review will include percepts regarding the actual music on this spin, but a rant is needed to be delivered as result of the cheese-invasion that is affecting about 75% of the lyrics. The record is fixated on two primer lyrical behaviors. First and foremost, it sounds to be in a relentless urge to seek out - dare one say : "recruit" ? - an Enemy figure to proudly stand out against, an act that gives a space to thoroughly - and enthusiastically, so you have something to be properly dreaded of - address the highly paua-metallic spiritual stance needed to form such a declaration on. Mind you, I'm not trying to be the super-asshole here. (Yeah, you could say because I already am.) I like power metal when it takes its mission to form a soul-, to entertain a soul, seriously. But I can tell from a million miles away when locked in an atom-safe bunker when a record-, when a text that is supposed to entertain at the LEAST, takes its listener for a sedated sloth on permanent vacation. This usually happens when the lyrics have absofuckinglutely no dilemma/thought worth sharing to show, and I personally have the hunch that Iced Earth was in a similar position when the immense majority of these lyrics have been forced into reality. Though in my opinion Iced Earth's Dystopia fails legendarily in its attempt - if there was an attempt at all - to reveal lyrics worth imprinting in a spirit, one should not forget that there is music involved, too. Guys, let's talk about the music.


Nah, I lied, first let's indulge a bit more in the cheesefest, because, frankly, the genre looks so much better without it, and why not try to point out the shortcuts that are simply becoming an embarrassment to take? Remember, even from the gates of heaven, there is a road leading to hell. You know the heavy metal deal with Power Sweat : now is the time, we take it back, 'till the end we fight, they can't take our soul away. I'm not exaggerating, these particular fixations are revealed on the record not in a tad less more poetic or exigent fashion than I just gave you the account of. Actually, I just overshot. Things get convoluted, because the enemy is not named, but it might be the Illuminati!! Furthermore : !!!

The other notable pastime of this release is to prepare the Army needed for the Cause, giving the individual soulja' spiritual guidance by pointing out the most potent inner resources and all the stuff - oops? - related. If you think I'm pulling your leg, then here is another verbatim quote from the lyrics contained on this Iced Earth album :

"Transcend to a higher place, accepting reality, you are the key for the life that you seek"

Shit! THAT's it! Somehow I KNEW it! I just KNEW it! You just had to WORD this sublime significance as the antidote for my misery, man!!

Yeah, cynicism sucks ancient monkey tits and it is the bliss of the miserable, but sometimes you can't avoid it. This textual shallowness though remains terrible to witness when other bands put genuine effort and thought to deliver significant lyrics observing the same theme. Check out the song The Ladder from premiere doom metal squad Argus, and note the difference between genuine spiritual content and smoke in the mirror.

In other words, the immense majority of lyrical content on Iced Earth's Dystopia is a cosmic cheesefest and the painful kind of it too, - nothing wrong with mild dosage of it - and the moments here and there that the band spends with some other lyrical theme, are pretty terrible, too. Like a sad girl who "wants to smile and live", but the "tragedy still holds her." - but she - don't know if you catch the drift here - "WANTS to live, FREE from the life of DESPAIR".

OK, but - I don't even know her. (Aaaand I'm not sure I want to, either.)

All in all, a healthy 75-80% of the lyrics and the consorting thought field sounds to be coming from a recalled-from-the-market heavy metal lyrics generator, and they lack all kind of intellectual elegance, imaginative charm or playfulness. The remaining 25% is "just" cheesy, but still OK power metal, but this won't do anything with your mind, either. And : this is not good. Do you know the song Daemon Dance from cosmic level shredder Yngwie Malmsteen? Like - the singer sings some crazy-ass, huge number ending with :

.. "hundred and twenty six"

and then he sings :

"demons will do their dance, cannot escape, holding a crucifix.

It gives me the shivers just writing it down, because I have no idea what does it exactly mean, but it paints frightening pictures in my mind and THAT becomes the MEANING. The lyrics on this record do nothing other or more than register as shameful cheese in my soul. (But I'm glad if they register as something else and something more in yours.)

From a musical point of (re)view, Iced Earth's Dystopia weighs in as acceptable, deeply traditional power metal, - more on this later - plagued though by below average chorus structures that sound to have the communist marching song vibe unleashed on amphetamine without the sear promise of a fucking leash or a big ass taser cannon handy. The power metal chorus, as an autonomous cultural entity, IS prone to be sucked into the communist marching song vibe on its mere own, because the respective senses of beyond you-level "epicness" and "unchangeability" give out a cheap sense of unity right away to be instinctively perceived by the minds that are forced to experience them, simply because each mind finds itself in a super-similar position when relating to these concepts. Wow, look! Now existence could be comfy and humpty-dory for you, because now you are not the only one bathing in the mystery.

I personally tend to think that the communist marching song vibe that I claim power metal is prone to exhibit, is a host-digesting parasite on the body of this PLAYFUL genre, and its most efficient shortcut to commit ritual-level cheesefest-suicide on, too. When cheese does not take itself seriously, then it is totally OK. But Iced Earth is serious about it, on this record. I think even a stellar build can suffer legendarily when the communist marching song vibe is unleashed on it. A great example of this is the opening track on Symphony X's superb Iconoclast, in my opinion. WTF is this sequence with WE! ARE! STRONG! WE! WILL! STAND! AND! FIGHT! in such a tight build!? You try to be super-serious, and you end up a super-spongebob, only made of cheese. You say something silly like this when you have nothing to say, but you have a suspected anticipation/craving to satisfy. A power metal fan wants to fight and rebel, right? If she/he wants, this craving is a shame to assuage THIS cheaply.

Iced Earth's Dystopia is reeking of the communist marching song vibe during the choruses, and, as such, it is very easy to truly appreciate the absence of it whenever the verse or middle section of a track comes back or takes a turn to explore other directions. Do not expect all THAT much variation though. The riffs are pretty simplistic, - but efficient in their crude charm - the wall of sound structures solely rely on ringed, solo power chords without all that much if any cunning at all among their intents, and the compositions themselves most often are going for a kind of early-Metallica thrashy vibe, complimented by an Eye of the Tiger mood in the mid-tempo builds, only with more fuel and heft used up. Mind us, that these directions do not at all prevent the release to pack very efficient moments. In my opinion, all of these are coming your way when the band engages full power efficiency, and I think they had problem realizing the entertainment factor of mid-tempo sections. Like the start of the otherwise solid opening track. Uhm. Four chords are being played for you for 1 whole fucking minute. Dude. Play them 3 times, everyone will get what you are about, interrupt the fourth, and you have an intro. Now start the damn song. < - tip.

The mentioning of Metallica is not accidental. If the singer on Iced Earth's Dystopia would have three wishes, I bet 4 of those would be to sing exactly like Metallica's James Hetfield. Say what you want about Metallica, - I won't, and I imagine the collective dread and horror of the Metallica members because of it - but James Hetfield has a super-solid set of pipes and palpable emotion in his singing voice, and you would have to be an elite level troll to even to THINK to question that. Iced Earth's vocalist bitterly approximates/imitates the general timber and the great mannerisms - like the word ending alpha wolf quasi-growls - of Hetfield with about 60% convince power, and I have nothing more to add to this notion, because there isn't. A re-occurring secondary vocal methodology of the release is to deliver Rob Halfordish head voice singing here and there, but, something - like the Rabid Animal of Mr. Halford, maybe?? - is fucking MIA, so the experience pretty much is that you are listening to a man pretending he has no balls. And, to be frank, each and every line he sings on this release, sounds to me like he sings about JUST that. "I have NO balls, NO balls, I have NONE of those!" On a third complementary note, some narrative-, Anselmo-like-, badass, menacing background muttering is sometimes utilized, too, but this is marginal compared both to the respective frequencies of the Hetfield-clone singing and the Rob Halford, BUT!, without the balls-kind of signing obtainable herein.

The record has a healthy, youthful general tempo colored by some slower tracks here and there, arranged on the contribution's body in a well balanced fashion. The titular opening track, third song Boiling Point and sixth one, Dark City are highlight deliveries worth revisiting for their efficient and muscular power metal charm. (Dark City is a great example how an - in my opinion - weak chorus, that is supposed to TOPPLE the cake, spoils a solid verse section.) The hymn-wannabes of the record are definitely not cups with my tea in it.

Iced Earth's Dystopia ultimately weighs in as an acceptable, stone-traditional power metal album with almost exclusively non-exigent lyrics, but I already had my rant about that, and I have no intention to paint an extra crosshair on my ass beside the one the rabid Iced Earth fan probably already is perceiving on it. Apart from its weightless, cheese-infestation lyrics, Iced Earth's Dystopia still could have been a great instrumental contribution, only it isn't, and here is why : the songs, as solely instrumental declarations, start out decently enough, then they often lose power - hah! - in non-justifiably prolonged mid-, and end sections. Non-justifiable, because there isn't much happening, hello?? The ending portion of Dark City, for example : a tight start and solid verse structure, weaker chorus, and then an instrumental "jam" revolving around two power chords. This is about as exciting as having sex without a body under you. (Alive body, thank you very much.)

The special edition features two bonus tracks, among these, the song called Iron Will sounds to be one of the most strong declarations on the entire release, and no problem with the lyrics there, either : they are JUST sufficiently cheesy. Once again : acceptable power metal with very limited supply of great moments, and you have heard this music being done much more consistently than this effort is capable to register as a full spin.

Rating : 6.5 / 10

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Blotted Science - The Animation of Entomology review

Year : 2011
Genre : Instrumental Experimental Technical Death Metal
Label : EclecticElectric
Origin : United States
Rating : 10 / 10

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If you think you have heard wickedly complex music before, supergroup Blotted Science is about to utterly shatter your definition of it. Alex Webster on bass, (Cannibal Corpse, ex-Hate Eternal) Hannes Grossmann on drums (Obscura, ex-Necrophagist) and Ron Jarzombek (Gordian Knot) on guitars deliver an EP that is a true privilege to listen to, because it is 25 minutes of madness-level experimental beauty, orchestrated to instruments of thick grit that are ready and able - and eager, too - to rumble, to caress, to smash, to assuage, to : exquisitely entertain.

For the first time ever, this here diligently nihilistic - !¿?! - music review site Noiseshaft has no other chance than to give maximum points (at minimum) and bow down with religious awe to the mighty, triumphant beauty of the organized fractal chaos this supergroup has summoned via what must have been an aeon or two of heavy duty work. Blotted Science is 25 minutes of melodic technical breaks, interrupted / followed / contained by yet another dosage of melodic technical breaks. What possibly could be the result of 25 minutes of melodic technical breaks, one could ask. Well, the result is that you will be thrown to the highly questionable but not at all stale care of Mr. Phractal K. Oss, and, once you decide that you listen to him instead of chickening out like a little bitch, you will realize that the epitome of the millisecond to get safely bored by, is not a member of this robust sonic domain. Plug yourself in ASAP, because this right here is the extreme music with full blown capacity to remap your nervous system. Read on to find out how this record will claim your attention as its own via pure brilliance and ruthless efficiency.


The name of the game herein is complexity, complexity and complexity. There is nothing else on this EP. It is "just" pure complexity, administered/revealed by a smartly researched layered sonic strategy that bombards your receptors on three main frequencies. First, you have the rumble, courtesy of crazy-ass specter-rhythm guitars and the squad leada' bass, each disciplined and commanded by stellar drum performance. In the higher frequencies, the EP has a comfy operational field established to liquified solo (synth / guitar) work that gets complimented as - uuuuhm - stuff happens. The only rule the EP remains faithful to, is to eradicate all of those at the first place, declaring brand new ones along its triumphant way of rampant progression.

As for the third channel the release happens along, it has more to do with its primer tactics to keep your awareness engaged. (Having no position given to refuse.) Blotted Science, in character, shows similarities with experimental music that is conceived to glorify each and every notes of western music, and it seems pretty safe to say that Arnold Schönberg, one of the most prominent supergurus of atonal music, also is a very happy man if and when he listens to this release, and I suspect he secretly does, right at this moment. Yet, Blotted Science surpasses the "rules" of atonality in a sense that it is on a constant, relentless mission to seek out and kiss the PATTERN that is worth entertaining to a point from which on it is a declaration to let it drop dead.

Blotted Science does not at all lose any of its type of constant intensity in case it chooses to relentlessly abuse every note in rapid succession, and the reason for this is the band's ubiquitous ability to form decipherable musical patterns for FUN-, and for a SECOND, and they do all this so they can let it collapse and look for another, right after inspection. This aspect of building superb patterns for the consorting fun of blasting it away with another, is primer element on this release, and also the aspect that makes this record a stellar delivery. The music that happens herein is beyond words, and that exactly where music worth listening to, starts.

One could attempt and approach the gigantic sonic matter herein from a dozen other verbal directions, but what the point of that would be? This release is not 25 minutes of extreme music. Instead, courtesy of its immense complexity, this is 25 minutes of infinity. If you did not yet grind the drift here, then let me tell you this : Blotted Science is pure brilliance, and I don't see how music could want to get more serious and exigent than this. 10 / 10. At minimum.

Rating : 10 / 10

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Absu - Abzu review

Year : 2011
Genre : Black Metal Thrash Metal hybrid
Label : Candlelight Records
Origin : United States
Rating : 8.8 / 10

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The Absu to date is a rabid black / thrash metal act that simply can't be arsed to spend seconds / minutes spouting at a random crimson moon with a corpse or two while riding on the same tremolo layers for wrist-slicing effect. Absu gives you that classic feel of unforgiving, Emperor Palpatine-grade black metal, but it mounts thrash metal rockets on all possible points you can think of along its body.

Opening track called Earth Ripper is a strong example of the elegant plan of the record : the fabric herein, though easily decipherable, remains relentlessly heavy BUT valiantly playful and alive, nevertheless. An elegant riff runs around left and right on top of good old intensified thrashing, and the madly rhythmized vocal / lyrical contribution of drummer / vocalist Proscriptor McGovern is a total fit for the extremely pissed off status report the song registers as. The LP has an occult theme to it, yet the structures - fortunately - show much more interest to reveal the Mad Mage in Intense Summoning-vibe in a larger than life, hilarious comic book fashion, and has no intent to wage a full scale war on your will to exist. If you want to hear occult black metal getting chased around with the big ass minigun of thrash for a change, then you need not to look further. You need to read on, oh!, useful infidel.

Abzu is composed of two main sections, and the common denominator of those is the old school, bravely and smartly varied reckless thrash metal, which though speaks the language of black metal. As for the two main sections, the first twenty minutes of the record is composed of five gritty, furious tracks with respective running times around 3:30 to 5:00, while the second part of the release is a monster-track nearing 15 minutes. It is a kind of deceit, though, and here is why : this second section, dominated by the monster-track, sounds to contain autonomous smaller tracks of similar character, only these have been embedded into one. So, don't expect an epic declaration of progression or something like that.

As hinted, the forms and general shapes of things and patterns you hear are black in character, but they are incoming along the structures and methodologies that are super-common to thrash. This inventive pairing is toppled by the tight, sanely balanced - regarding its frequency of occurrence - vocal presence. The vocals, while they are belonging to good old fashioned spouting at heart, pack legit, tight power, and it is notable that they are not faked in a GTFO fashion, like in metalcore.

Absu's Abzu sounds like the inner sonic outburst necessarily conceived by the panicked mind of a mad wizard who accidentally messed up his highly illegal demon summoning pentagram, and now he assesses his experiences for the fabric and related sake of All Unholy Remembrance, knowing that the demon he just invited will have the fat right to rip him to tiny pieces, and has zero doubt that it will do, too. Proscriptor McGovern addresses the highly mysterious, and none less vast perspectives and soul-swallower entities of Enochian Magick all over the LP, and his related lamentations find infinite ways to shoot out genuinely "heavy-sounding word pairs", so to speak, and this is the main idea herein. You don't necessarily need to look for direct meaning to the lyrics here, they can be understood through the mere moods of the words they sink into you as.

Absu's latest reveals a demon finger through the portal, and, once you are curious/reckless - or both - enough to move a step closer, the hand shoots out and pulls you through. 35 minutes is JUST the right amount of time you want to spend on that other side, which is another little something that makes this record a solid black-thrash delivery that has a sober understanding of its own grit and recklessness.

Rating : 8.8 / 10

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Voyager - The Meaning of I review

Year : 2011
Genre : Pop Metal
Label : Sensory Records
Origin : Australia
Rating : 6.5 / 10

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Voyager's The Meaning of I is so diligently and devotedly polished that it will reflect all your cautious expectations back by its sheer pop glitter and chromium rasta-tentacles, leaving you sufficiently blinded - tautology!! - for a moment or two so it can channel its own rendition of risk-, and sugar-free, plastic-pink sci-fi metal into you. More precisely : sci-fi reggae pop metal. This record definitely sounds to have a pop / reggae feel going on, and, while one does not at all need to seek out any caveats to whine comfortably along regarding this notion, Voyager's The Meaning of I does not come through as a particularly strong pop metal release. The "official" meta-consensus is, that this is - hahahaha! - progressive metal. Wow, really! GTFO, I'm begging you. Symhony X's cybernEPIC Iconoclast HAS progression. Dream Theater's latest declaration HAS progression. Voyager and progression? No, you have been deceived. Voyager has Dr. Alban robot singing on top of synth-pop heavy metal music you have heard in the arcades in 1997, more on that later.

But, being pop metal is not necessarily bad, I'm still waiting to be touched by the genre, and I'm not at all opposing it for the sheer act of opposing it. Voyager's The Meaning of I comes through as "uhuh, OK" grade pop metal content, but a number of traits that become more and more irritating, are doing an efficient job at giving you twitches at both corners of mouth while this spin is declaring itself. Do the collective psyche a favor and scrutinize the z-grade Photoshop cover with diligence, then read on to find out more about this pop metal output, or don't.


The one and only problem with this release, - a problem though which is persistent to stick around - is that the songs on this LP - I truly am not happy for having to say this - ain't that great at all. They are mechanic exercises at creating pop accessibility with instruments of metal that are reflecting the same robotic feeling as the release's vocal contribution. I'm sorry to shatter your world, but. If you are humbly, dutifully, enthusiastically blown-, even bloooooooown awaaaaaay by the record, then know that this is the result of the release having no other agenda than to serve your nervous system out with microwave-consumption pop metal stimuli that has only super-mild creative efforts in it, and sure, this is a blatant claim. This is not a claim with a right to exhibit any hope of its validation without justification, and here is the attempt of that : some compare this release to Anubis Gate's super-slick self titled album, and I personally find this comparison highly staggering, even sorrowful. I dare say that Voyager sounds very shallow when compared to Anubis Gate. It is no doubt that AG is packed with high quality-, diligently researched and superbly realized MELODY, and when I consider Voyager after hearing Anubis Gate, uuuuuhh. Here is the thing : Voyager's latest registers as a metal pop festival nominee when compared to the entertainment factor of the music of the Danish dudettes.

People blown away by this record, please. Please? Don't believe your ears or fix the fucking things?? Get Anubis Gate's self titled and THEN it is OK if you are blown away. Blown away by THIS Voyager album is not being blown away for "real", it is your nervous system receiving very cheaply created signals to make you believe that your lazy fucking ears are graced already. Final tip regarding the introductory section of this review : Anubis Gate's self titled album kicks asses galaxies bigger than Voyager's latest ever fathomed having hopes to approach.

Guys, let's talk about the music.

The first track, Momentarily Relapse of Pain, is quick to invite grim suspicion almost right away. The track - and the album, logically enough - starts out with a superb polyrhythm that does not make sense at all and still sounds absolutely great, but the magic is to wear out soon, because the singing starts. OMFG! The singer dude sings like a robot that is not ALLOWED to commit mistakes. He is not allowed to include human emotion, either, if it conflicts with the first Asimovian Directive to deliver mathematically precise pronunciation and articulation. Listen to this articulation. This is so 111% precise, that it sounds unnatural. It sounds mannered. The lyrics are pretty boring, too. The singer must feel utterly empty indeed, because he needs to state "I feel so empty" four times in a row during the midsection. Hm. Maybe you should try to come up with a song when you are not feeling so empty, too.

Next track called Stare Into the Night starts out as an atrociously non-inventive zoo metal piece, while sporting a sense of warped carnival music, but, thank God & Co., a solid chorus comes in to save a minute of the day. One must point out that once the chorus revealed itself, the zoo metalish verse gains somewhat of a spine, as well. The chorus has a relative reggae-vibe going on, but, without the restrained rhythmization so common to that genre.

Seize the Day is your everyday average attempt to deliver a metal hymn that is supposed to give you an immediate spiritual level upwards, but, for me, it gives just a laugh I prefer to conceal into a cough, - failing now that I admit - and must say this sounds like the music I'd expect from a romantic metal-candidate at a pop festival in 1986 or so. The sound is relatively current and full, sure, - but mind us that many elements, including synthetic guitars, are being utilized in the background to make us believe that we are genuinely graced by evidently relevant content - but the composition is relatively weightless, even when considered as pure cheese, and the lyrical content is sentimental, risk free soul-flatter formed to assuage the one who is so easily can be assuaged once fat hope is served, the one who is still waiting for her/his very best hour to finally start something by. Well, Ladies and Gents, if you did not yet seize the day, then I can imagine THIS song will make the necessary mindhack on you! < - ill willed irony. This sounds to be a filler song with not too much-, if any ripe intent behind it, saved for an attempt to summon the determined epicness factor - and the hidden cheese - of anime power metal.

The track called Broken is more successful, and it also sounds to have this Dr. Alban vibe, which is a somewhat ubiquitous feel on the spin, supported by the persistent pop feel that coats the compositions into a sense of risk free accessibility. Broken also brings to mind Billy Idol's Heroin from 1992. This does not sound any more current or any more rich than that though, to be honest.

I can't tell anything about the track called The Pensive Disarray, because we - the track and me - have failed to do anything to each other during the three attempts we had at each other. OK, I see a dude in 1983, contemplating in his solitary bed with his sorrowful face on, lamenting about his Dream Woman, and suddenly I realize that he probably is a miserable grandmaster-turd, and then I lose interest in the picture.

The track called He Will Remain sounds like a prayer, and it could have been a splendid filler song you love to skip immediately, but the singing is not OK in it, in my opinion. Mind you, I'm not trying to be a troll all over the place, the singing is just COLD, in my opinion.

The consecutive, titular track starts out with top notch rumble - finally, for a tender fuck's sake - and the delivery is quick to elegantly summon a vibe similar to that of the Killer Instinct theme song, only more complex and with more extreme grit. Nevertheless, this is the same pop-metal made for immediate microwave consumption, now paired with Dr. Alban-like singing being taken to a new level of misplaced confidence. I like the thick, robust instrumental intro section of the song, and any part of it that does not have that cold, over-articulated singing. This titular track has a ripe structure and a nice flow, but also has metal core screaming in it. No worries, it only lasts for 2 bars, so it reaches its end before you could produce a nervous breakdown in peace.

The track Iron Dream is a tribute to Peter Steele Metal God / Human Demigod, and also is one of the most solid tracks on the release, one which Mr. Steele himself probably gives the nod on.

No, he did not object.

The pop vibe herein works, because the composition itself is : solid.

Fire of the Times once again gives you the metal pop festival in 1986 feeling, but the super-polished sound makes it tolerable. (For a minute or two.) The chorus of the song is not so bad, - not so stellar, either - but a lackluster, lazy verse puts a whole lot of unpleasant cosmoses on its shoulders. And, once a guitar solo kicks in and you think there will be something more relevant happening for a change, it turns out that the solo is 2 bars long, WTF!? And the average pop chorus comes back. Whattt. Evvver.

She Takes Me features kind of dignity-lacking singing of the "look, Girl, this is how I feel deep inside, look!!"-type with the so well known powerless sighs at the very end of the sung words that I think a woman is secretly disgusted of, the powerless sighs that truly commands hairs on a male's body to arrange themselves into Godlike Awareness Mode. Not a good thing, not in this aspect. This is a below average pop song - below average lullaby if you are a troll and proud of that - performed with metal instruments.

It's Time To Know tries to summon the Metal Elton John and succeeds masterfully, making use for the 32623786238623862386th time from the fact, that, it summons an instant sense of the cheapest epicness when you leave a triad of notes intact at the top, and change the root note/bass note around.

Congratulations, you have just lost a point!

I admit I utilized this trick once, too, after watching a totally unrelated, great instructional video from Guitar God Frank Gambale. He is Australian, too, like this band, and if you don't know Frank Gambale's work yet, you need to check him out ASAP, he is gigantic, and knows parts of music even music is ashamed of when they are revealed.

The last track, Are You Shaded? has this Evil VS Good thing going on, with glimpses - and JUST glimpses - of every possible sub-genres of extreme metal being thrown into this mix that seeks your appreciation like a dehydrated camel seeks rain in the desert. In a matter of ten seconds, you have death metal growls on top of thrash metal drums, riposted by the robot folk singing. Uuuuh. Not today, thanks. As hinted, the main attraction of the song is a chorus bordering on mystical folk/pop, with solid moments of mechanical, cybernetic fury that the album would sound way more convincing with, if to feature more - like : MUCH more - of that. This is a superbly produced, average plastic-pink pop metal record. At best. It reeks accessibility, but it reeks that so much that the "it" itself is nowhere to be found. It is KIA, baby.

Rating : 6.5 / 10

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Anubis Gate - Anubis Gate review

Year : 2011
Genre : Progressive Rock/Metal
Label : Nightmare Records
Origin : Denmark
Rating : 9.3 / 10

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Anubis Gate opens up and blows you a million space miles away by the incoming melodic power it invites through itself, but don't be all that afraid - who has the time to fear, anyway? - as the sonic stimulus will stick with you, courtesy of carrying you on its wings while having its sublime run.

This release has the embedded mark of superstrong focus written - almost - all over it, as the content is beyond doubt a vault of legit, relevant harmonic/melodic sculptures, constructs that reign completely free of stone-orthodox compositional techniques and the closely related GTFO-factor. Anubis Gate is at heart accessible, yet truly soulful music with legit life - oxymoron!! - in it, and brings nothing less than elegant reflections of these assuaging facts. Read on to observe how this affair glorifies the epitome of thoughtful melody with the finely calibrated instruments of sci-fi metal.


Anubis Gate sounds thick, meticulously polished, and eloquently varied. The meat-mass of the content though does not show all that much interest to wrap itself around the everyday average rendition of "metal". It does much more interesting things with its monstrous meat-mass, instead. As hinted, the scientifically sculpted, eloquent and exigent melody is of key importance on this LP. If you are a proper snob for exigent melody and harmonic structures AND a proud of that, rest assured that Anubis Gate brings your way on this LP a whole packet of delicious content to soak your starved ears into. The character of the instrumental sound is beyond all doubt metal, and the mean, fat, down-tuned, rumbling kind of it too, yet this rumble is rode by a vocal presence that bravely and magnificently deviates from the unwritten rules of "proper" - PHA! - metal singing.

Former bassist-, now lead vocalist Henrik Fevre has a pleasant timber in his pipes with a solid range to them, and the power needs no extra invitation cards to join the fray, either. The record has clean vocals, exclusively, vocals that border on pop and kick your lousy ass proper nevertheless, and this does not sound to be the result of a lack of capacity to deliver along the orthodox metal channels of rasp/siren-mode/growl/whatnot. This album simply does not need these techniques, since its themes, along with the granite-solid instrumental contribution, are reflecting a pretty integral spiritual stance, one which by sheer, honest anti-interest, negates the need to summon/channel the angst-driven methodologies of the genre. This is not an angry album at all. This is a honest album, and that is the most a record can ever hope for.

The compositions tend to have a quite healthy length to them, which gives the band a suitable amount of real estate to offer solid intro sections and bravely varied middle jams to surround the respective cores of each declarations with. Anubis Gate is not all that concerned with being heavy for the sake of being JUST that, managing to acquire mere heaviness via inflating - in a positive way, mind you - the characteristics of the harmonic structures. This is a truly valiant record in the sense that it never allows itself to stray away from its own-, quite high expectations cultivated and superbly satisfied in the compositional department, - meaning : yes, the songs themselves are slick - and music herein always gets its abundant benefits, having an audibly great and grateful time for the constant efforts being put into entertaining it for what it - music - is.

Anubis Gate is an intelligently serious and seriously intelligent record, but not over-emoted, - only on one occasion : "Uuuuuse yoooour eeeeeyes!!" I promise I will. Now calm down and come here, Henrik. You sound like you need a hug. The lyrical themes mostly are focused on thoughtful - and quite soulful, too - observations regarding the human condition, and there are a whole lot of things to consider on that field, wouldn't you agree? It is quite safe to say that the written contribution on Anubis Gate's latest manages to exhibit ballsy poetic qualities, simply by grabbing the deepest questions by their throats, and not being afraid of any answers this explicit act may yield. It is evident that there are true, legit private investigations loaded into these lyrics as fuel, and these worded thoughts and feelings are very realistic and pleasant to relate to, because they reflect deep aspects of the human condition that humanity as a hive-entity shares and experiences, but the individual is a chickengirl/chikenboy to admit. "Normally." Not Anubis Gate. The lyrics have relevance and balls, and these assertions are not necessarily self-explanatory these days. Until you were born that way, of course.

Rating : 9.3 / 10

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