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

Buy it now

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

Buy it now

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

Buy it now

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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