Ancient Bards - Soulless Child review

Year : 2011
Genre : Symphonic Power Metal, Epic Metal
Label : Limb Music / SpiritualBeast / Universal
Origin : Italy
Rating : 8.8 / 10

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Italian symphonic power/epic metal squadron Ancient Bards brings with itself an ornamented tome of rather healthy size sealed by a platinum guitar token and a platinum sword token, and also filled with stories even Edgar Alan Poe would show honest interest in, - no, Mr. Poe did not oblige, neither did The Wall. If YOU would, then you are about to be late with that already, because in a blink of an eye Ancient Bards slip out of the shadow to pop the cover up without remorse or hesitation, only, this time, the "muhaha" remains absent, and its mere absence is free to emerge as the mere fun for a change. This, no doubt, is a dainty, valiant symphonic metal statement from top to bottom, and also one that remains able to communicate itself along the dark fairy tale register without turning into the kind of Camembert that is about to be ready to move in space at its own free will. That's where cheese begins, right?

The release has full blown-, but much welcomed fixations it simply can not live without. The name of the primer game herein is up-tempo power metal of complex, gritty, yet playful character, one which proudly lacks all capacity and all the tools to hide what it really wants to do at heart without any regard to any other considerations whatsoever. The favorite patterns of the band are not hesitant to address their defining traits in full efficiency in a short amount of time, and the one simple thing that makes all this work superbly, is that the band members are aware of a flamboyant - and also soberly limited - variety of those. You will get accustomed to this album in 5 minutes, or not in five eternities. Because, in that case, you probably will remain a grandmaster-douché who gets bitter sex exclusively from dwarfs wearing pig masks. Ladies and gents, let's talk about the music.


As hinted, Ancient Bards' Soulless Child is not at all occupied with coating its primer, true intents into alienated variation. The tempo, most often - in fact, almost exclusively - is furious and fast enough to stick a smile on a pneumatic driller, the harmonies are dainty and brisk, and the whole build is complimented by a symphonic fabric in the background. Aggression is not too important here, in fact, not at all. Melody - rampant-unalloyed is more important, as you will see. The patterns I have been telling you about are expressing themselves in the rhythm section, primarily, as the LP exhibits a very straightforward, efficient methodology : you have the harmonic build with a momentary drum pattern to it, - the drummer has about four favorite drum patterns, and ONE particular carpet bomber pattern he is the Grateful Slave of and will make YOU one, too - and you have the female - aaaaaaaa - lead singing on top, that which finds absolutely pleasant directions to achieve the sense of dark tone fairy tale register which the record really is all about. One especially nice trait of this declaration is its reoccurring readiness to go rabid and exigent on the instrumental builds with crisp keyboard and guitar solo work.

As for the symphonic quality, that is not an irrelevant component of the fabric at all. It brings to mind an immediate reminiscence to fellow Italian group Fleshgod Apocalypse, - thunderous roar IN - thunderous roar OUT - only, this time, the music is more tame at heart and sports Gazelle anatomy instead of the composure of a juggernaut-grade reality eradicator the death metal specialists reveal on their latest contribution.

Regardless of a relative proneness of virtually repeating itself, - says the dudette with the letters - the release shows elegant interest to stay away from the safety shortcuts the genre offers for the antitalent at discount prices. As result of this TRULY commanding determination, the power metalish communist marching song vibe now gets traded for a much more intriguing vibe, that which is reminiscent of the ethos of dramatic musical theater, - oxymoron? - even opera, giving you a mood that invites to mind and soul such concepts as the musical atmosphere of Carl Orff's Carmina Burana and the kind of "dark" fantasy that is out for no blood, instead it is out to seek and point out "mere" secretive significance in the mighty fabric of the shared world experience.

Lead singer Sara Squadrani delivers a performance that is very easy to decide you like, and here is why : Miss Squadrani is not trying to be the immediate oh!, so most relevant Presence in a sonic fabric she is part of, she instead reigns in the state of "just" being there, - which, in a woman's case, is just sufficient - provoking a valiant fight with the sonic mass, which, in a while bows and bends to her will. Her tools are a great "as hard as I can!" attitude and splendid set of lungs and no regard whatsoever of what you think of her singing. In other words, Sara Squadrani is Your Metal Goddess Who Happens to Be There and Is Not Afraid to Prove That. And, usually the singers who fail to give a damn of what others think of their singing, are the ones THOSE others will enjoy, too. Squadrani's voice packs the raw-, but tender she-wolf a female metal singer virtually is worthless without, and her REAL, non-effected track sits in a very well researched place in the mix. I especially like the way she delivers her loooong long extremes wherein a song demands so. All in all, I like Sara Squadrani's singing and I'm pretty sure that you like it, too.

All in all, Ancient Bards' Soulless Child is a robust symphonic power metal delivery that brings to you a whole lot to soak your grateful ears into, and, courtesy of its homogeneous character, this without doubt is a record that simply weighs in as intense, flamboyant fun to listen to.

Rating : 8.8 / 10

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Iron Savior - The Landing review

Year : 2011
Genre : Power Metal
Label : Dockyard 1
Origin : Germany
Rating : 8.5

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Germany's Iron Savior is full-enthusiasm power metal with constant will present to relentlessly embrace all the favorite forms and premiere patterns of the genre. Though the communist marching song vibe is on dock and stands ready to be engaged during this meticulously sculpted power metal release, a good amount of significant benefits immediately save this contribution from sinking into mid-tempo fist-pump mediocrity. First, a concept decision to include the statements on a quasi-sci-fi / fantasy field, make this release a spiritual variant to walk in the footsteps of Symphony X's superb Iconoclast. The character of the music on this spin shows a soberly stacked, clean set of production values that bring you a deeply traditional, yet to-this-day-efficient approach to compliment the genre on. The lyrics, while charmingly cheesy at times, never seek to lie more drama than they are able to, - oh really. - which, much fortunately, gives Iron Savior the space to deliver valiantly along the instrumental department, too. Because they are eager, and able to. Usually shorter, - there are a few, elegant exceptions - but efficient and colorful solos, chordal modulation passages are numerous to be heard and behold, and, the performance of the singer dude is totally likable, as well. He knows the character-, the timber of his voice, unleashes an elegant kind of NATURAL animal without having to pay with soul, while wisely refrains from forcing his voice to do things it would not look convincing without. Read on to find out more about this sci-fi tinted power metal declaration.


Thank God & Co., it is very hard to find caveats around-, and on this release for what it is, and it becomes so hard from a point on, that you stop looking for them altogether, instead. Iron Savior brings you a very cleverly constructed foam of stimulus in the sense that the album mainly is an up-tempo delivery that wants what it wants right here, and right now. This absence of any notable will to give you the usual slower variants on epic determination, imbues this LP with a persistent charm to go high octane 99% of the time. This urge to invite the power metal animal 23/7 deserves both respect and admiration, because the vehicle is properly driven all the way through. Track number 9, called "Faster Than All" - see?? - has an especially nice example of the percept the record seems to be fond of cultivating : after a solid, intense section, the band arrives at a deceitful stall for a moment, and you think they have "intensed-out", and a more tamely constructed sequence will entertain you from that particular point on. But, you are mistaken, and so happy about it, too : Iron Saivor picks you up and throws your hide into the trunk, and brings back the original intense mode you loved the most at the first place, and it rides on an even more rabid note, now that you had the chance to reflect on the mere memory of it for a second. But NOT for more.

As such, Iron Savior's The Landing is speedy, traditional, elegant power metal with so competent and exigent musicianship behind it that it finds no need-, nor desire to be your everyday average Iron Maiden clone. Instead, the Iron Savior dudes like to collide the same sonic entity with different harmonic environments, but, to be honest, this is one of the most fun part of music, so there is nothing wrong with THAT technique at all, in my opinion. This record is a testament of a well operated-, sharply focused creative force that seeks to properly appreciate the traditional, and this serious, gracing quality is written on all the shapes it is radiating outward. Once you have invited your secretive power metal fan forth, - even better if you did not even hide the thing - Iron Savior's The Landing comes to you as nothing sort of immediate power metal delicacy.

METAL HEEEEEEEART!!!!!!!!!!!!!4four

Rating : 8.5 / 10

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Nickelback - Here and Now review

Year : 2011
Genre : Radio Rock, Soft Rock
Label : Roadrunner Records, Universal
Origin : Canada
Rating : 5.0 / 10

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Canada's Nickelback crushes into your radar zone with a cover art that has the Need for Speed Underground 2 going on right from 2004. OM fucking G. High Dynamic Range Photography for High Dynamic Range bubblegum rock of the pretty deceitful kind, and the only catch - huge catch at that - herein lies in the profound inconsistencies the album is prone to exhibit along its not too long spin time of 39 minutes.

Nickelback's Here and Now starts out on its highest note to offer with brisk, muscular album opener "This means war", - forget the pretentious platitude lyrics - in which the rule set is quick and efficient to reveal its surprisingly deceitful character : the name of the main game, you, oh!, tricked one would think, is up-tempo hard rock-accessibility with modestly tamed aggression that packs sufficient amount of grit, but you will find yourself further and further away from this hope along the spin's way. Read on to find out more about this release, that which relentlessly collides your face with every single sentence of the "here is how to build a risk free, catchy mid-tempo rock song for the family friendly radio audience!" textbook. Blooooeeeeeeeh.


As hinted, it is very easy to be totally enthusiastic and honestly hopeful for the record after hearing its intense opener, and I personally find myself with my mouth and eyes wide open by the bewilderment caused by a healthy 75%-80% (!!) of the latter segments of this radio rock release. There is one primer quality to this record that will determine its ultimate value in your eyes, and that is this : on this Nickelback LP called Here and Now, every single ear-friendly bonfire chord progression will have its ass bruuuutally, brutally abused to death and beyond, and the same goes for the melodic rock-lines. You have heard every single one of those before. Truly, I invite you to check out the superb first track of this LP, - the second, called "Bottoms Up" is solid, too, minus the shitdigger "let's be drunk,aye!" lyrics - and compare it with the last one. Once again : OM fucking G.

This LP shallows to as radio friendly soft rock as you have ever saw or heard, in fact, it does not refrain from the borders of annoying-ass pop, on occasion. Track number "When We Stand Together" starts to test the flashing red light with a "hey, hey, yei, yie!" chorus that makes John Lennon's Give Peace a Chance run to a corner, go fetal and cry, imagine what it does to me, asfjasklfjlsflasfsfas

Unfortunately, saved for its first two solid tracks, Nickelback's latest is so brutally fixated on the super-orthodox, radio-friendly compositional technique of verse - chorus - verse - chorus - intermission - huuuugechorus - not to mention that the content gets more tired and disturbingly sweaty with each song, as I will attempt to illustrate - that the listener is quick to learn how it is a vain idea to expect anything relevant after the first two contributions. (Which are the only two actual ones on this spin, in my opinion.)

OK, I admit, track number 4 "Midnight Queen" shows a little sear promise of plastic dignity yet, but nothing too serious : this is a relatively retarded, but at least, enthusiastic offspring from Aerosmith's Mama Kin and Guns N' Roses' Rocket Queen - Freud nods - and it also is the marker from which after the record turns into saliva-embarrassment and relentless anti-relevance.

Track number 5, called Gotta Get Some : the verse structure is Genesis' "I can't dance" from 1992, and the song gets a glam metal chorus to make daddies hide their daughters in the closet. Pha. Who gives a shit. Your daughter is ugly, Sir.

Track number 6, called "Lullaby" is a copy of "Winds of Change" from Scorpions from 1990 or so, only, the chorus is replaced with the instant love song chord progression a decent woman will flamethrower-, THEN butcher you for. The fact that I was able to sit through this shit without spontaneously igniting up in flames, is a testament of will bordering on the superhuman, to be honest. Never. Again.

Track number 7, "Kiss It Goodbye" goes '80s synthpop with distorted guitars, - the riff is stolen from the '80s "uaaa - uaaa - u" song, I don't know what its title is, sorry - and the whole track reeks Peter Gabriel's Sledgehammar, in my opinion.

Track number 8, called "Trying to Not Love You" is an unsuccessful radio-hack attempt/riposte to Stone Sour's "Through the Glass", only "Through the Glass" is a song with power and dignity, and "Trying Not To Love You" is recycled soft-ass rock vomitory in slime format and I don't like it at all.

Track number 9, "Holding to Heaven", supposedly is a separate song from "Trying to Not Love You", - not so evident at first - yet one has to admit with delight that this song shows more success in communicating itself as the epitome of an Aerosmith glam metal ballad, but, basically, this what this song is. That "Holding on for : EVVA'" at the end of the chorus is what the song is all about, other than that : bonfire open chord rapeage.

Track number 10, "Everything I Do" is about women. This sounds like a mid-tempo ZZ Top song, only - and unfortunately - much less successful than the classic declarations of the Texan Ancients. And here is why : Nickelback,. Your. Song. Has. No. Chorus. !

Track number 11 is just a hideous closure with the hackneyed "we are children forever, you know, and life can be so beautiful you know, when I'm not abusing these poor chords in THIS particular sequence, you know!" vibe with another chord progression that is an embarrassment to consider, let alone PLAY.

Honestly, I tremendously like the first song of this LP, the second, I consider a good one, - minus its platitude-ass booze-abuse lyrics for teens wearing flannel shirts with horrifying rectangles on them - and all other things on this release are epic fail, in my opinion. Five points, because my heart is Gold.

Rating : 5.0 / 10

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Echancrure - Paysage. Octobre. review

Year : 2011
Genre : Experimental Drone with Black Metal flavor
Label : Independent
Origin : France
Rating : - review requested by artist -

Echancrure - Paysage. Octobre. sounds to be 30+ minutes of experimental moods that are characterized by a deeply observatory stance, showing zero interest to harm stuff on sight, and only mild at declaring where the structure wants to go, especially in its start off sequence. This restrained contribution most often is reluctant or utterly disinterested to make a move for the hook or the sharply sculpted harmony, exhibiting more readiness at seeking your enjoyment via a brittle atmospheric/background nature that is cautiously flattered by a wide variety of shy, but clearly defined musical instruments.

The primary language of this yours-for-free, or pay-as-much-as-you-want digital download is tenderly expressed experimental gloom, threading along vague directions in the company of a sense of quasi-helplessness the record and its listener cooperatively cultivate during a healthy dosage of the program time. I drift away from stacked void to stocked void in the galore of pretty much bare open musical spaces, looking at random sonic entities that are as ignorant of my alien presence as most often I find myself to be of theirs, and this experience summons the intimacy of listening. As for the relative - at least initial - alienation, that sounds to be a result of some quasi-odd, but no doubt rather exotic instrumental selections, which, of course, are of a highly subjective matter. Read on to find out more about subjective matters.


Though the "I" in a review is not at all important, sometimes it just begs to differ and say that I am genuinely surprised by the presence of cimbalom on a drone record, since, to me, it tends to click along the "NOW, you are ASLEEP, rascal G. I. Joe!" embedded command, but. Once again, this is highly subjective, and if someone else finds this tender, funny cimbalom timber to do justice to the much murkier surroundings they are expressed in on this record, then my private amen naturally has no other chance than to bow down to that particular autonomous experience.

As hinted, Echancrure - Paysage. Octobre. delivers a relatively cumbersome, but tolerable start, and eventually finds a more focused tone to communicate along a share of more relevant moments in its latter portion. The main attractive factors of the release will come to entertain you as courtesy of diligently realized-, chaotic-but-not-offensive orchestra segments, - composed of violins, primarily - and an eerie distorted background guitar joins into the fray here and there too, in order to valiantly veil its one note song of cosmic torment away into the immediate surroundings with hollow, but efficient skeleton-drumming sharing the misery in the neighboring background by its own consent. What I personally enjoy the most about the release, are the moments with pronounced-, playfully chaotic and also soberly limited "violin-foams" present in them. This entity further assuages a not at all unfriendly sonic chaos, and plays around in it in a way that sounds to summon a hint or two at brittle, but diffo-present steam punk vibes.

The release beyond doubt has the capacity of communicating itself as a continuous experience, which probably is one of the steepest requirements to fulfill in the blend of genres this download seeks to flatter. This diligently nihilistic music review site Noise Shaft WILL review an album of an independent artist if one requests so, - as it did right here, right now - but will not offer a rating in such cases, because there is nothing an independent artist needs more than independent listeners, and it is unnecessary to attempt to influence consensus by giving a rating to something that is not yet in commercial circulation, thereby narrowing its chances to be. So, this time, you will rate, if anyone. Follow this link to check out the album yourself :

Echancrure - Paysage. Octobre.

Rating : - review requested by artist -

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Steel Panther - Balls Out review

Year : 2011
Genre : Glam / Penis Metal
Label : Universal
Origin : United States
Rating : 7.0 / 10

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Steel Panther does not make the miserable critic's life easier, as it is not enough that the band's latest contribution is an unblemished hair me... penis metal delivery when witnessed from the angle it wants you to entertain along, - meaning nothing more or else than hearing, you little rascal, you! - it also features lyrics that sooner or later WILL start to kick one hysteric laugh after the other out of you, no matter how hard you tried to resist like a respectable stock-civilian. This, first and foremost, is a commercial microwave product solely engineered to immediate consumption while it tolls the idiotic giggle out of you via the oh!, so naughtyness it wettily swims - gihi, gihi! - in. This is '80s, early '90s glam metal galore with a relentless comic-book sex fixation. Legs, lips, tits, meat, more legs, more tits, more lips, more meat, until you need 5 magical minutes to recuperate. This is the Life of Your Rock Star God who Has It All and Fails to Give a Shit Anymore, until he has the opportunity - again - to witness two drunk chicks - others, this time - licking out cocaine from each other's ass, now THAT still demands a minute or so of attention. This is the underlying parody-ethos of this decently presented commercial product, and deciphering it any other way will make you look kind of bitter and super-miserable, which is a pretty clever trick of the album. You can't oppose it without coming across as a tool, because it is the deliberate comic-book caricature of a lifestyle the judger probably has zero access to.

You, who judge, are only angry at it because you are not part of it.

As such, brutally negativistic notions about this harmless commercial product are not only unnecessary, they simply can not have significant weight on this LP, either. Quite the contrary : they are making it only more notorious, and more sellable. Which is part of the plan, of course. If you are crying out "this is the desanctification of metal!" - then you are 1. wrong, 2. have been brainwashed, and you are making money for the creators. Not believe me? Hah. Not a single person who has been brainwashed, has knowledge about it. If you think metal can't take a parody like this, - and an EXIGENT parody, mind us, because

Steel Panther is legit glam metal

- then your current conception of metal should be wasted, in my opinion.

Steel Panther's Balls Out is not at all pretentious - positive - nor utterly relevant enough - negative - to develop a largely bullshit-based valuesystem-hate for, yet, being enthusiastically blown away by this product, which is primarily out there to make you a Buyer via serving out your most superficial soul-content and deluding you to think that the album is not about the creator's bank account but about YOU, on the other hand, is the equivalent of you tattooing "ATTENTION! I'm a retarded fucking turd and I like fantasy too, and I also am the guy who likes to get slapped around!" on your forehead. This is why and how this LP has the potential - haha, haha, ahahaha! - to be somewhat relevant to the genuinely staggered - smaller group - and to the drunk-ass audience that mainly looks to pump fists while throwing up on each other during a live show. Read more about this marketing attempt, or don't.


The record knows and utilizes - in an enjoyably realized manner, musically speaking - all the clever harmonic mechanics and the proven-, ever-vigorated pattern-platitudes of the glam metal genre, and, what is totally respectable from the album, is that it does not want to offer anything else or anything less than the 101% fulfillment of the - by the way : quite steep - requirements of still-enjoyable classic hair metal you prefer to deny you - sometime - enjoy.

Yes, the most cheapest form of the ethos of glam metal is kind of directed to the 13 year old girl -, who else does feel anything but the urge to shed a tear for perplexing lines like Poison's "Talk dirty to me", OMFG - but we should never forget that the glam metal vibe also could produce much more relevant popcultural deliveries, Guns N' Roses' Sweet Child O' Mine, for instance. (I know all Guns N' Roses songs by heart, and I feel secretly embarrassed about it a little, this is the magic of glam metal.)

Steel Panther's Balls Out shows equal interest in delivering along the more intense form of the style, while also making valiant and relevant attempts to revive the Aerosmith / Bon Jovi glam metal ballad with lyrical themes fixated on harmless comic-book porno. As hinted, the whole album is about explicit, harmless comic-book porno, and this direction is quite suitable to make you look more and more idiotic as you even ATTEMPT to oppose it. As hinted, the lyrics sometimes will get you completely off-guard, which simply is the most efficient quality of the release. An example : "Tomorrow I'll go to a party, tomorrow, I'll get myself some pussy, but, tonight : I'll jerk off."

In my opinion, you need to be an exceptionally sad person if you do not laugh at such a line. Mike Patton comes to mind who says : "Slayer. What can you tell about Slayer? I do not trust ANYBODY, who doesn't like Slayer."

There is a track on this album with a superb sequence. Track 11, called "I like drugs" has a powerful harmony/vocal melody collision from 1:42. If the album would feature ideas like this instead of the microwave glam it is primarily fond at, I would give the 8.0 even if the lyrics were : pussy!, cock!, pussy!, cock!, pussy! all over. But "I like drugs" is a pretty decent track, and it reeks classic Guns 'N Roses, Aerosmith glam-intensity all the way. Nothing you have never heard before, but very authentically, muscularly and properly done for that.

But, the reality of related things is that the more jokes a man offers about his genitals, the less interested I am in those jokes. And I show ZERO for the cock itself, OK?? Anyway. Steel Panther's Balls Out should be among your number one picks to surprise your feminist friends with. It is not the tragedy of this album if it produces millions of sales, it is the tragedy of humankind, but hey, life goes on.

Rating : 7.0 / 10

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Leviathan - True Traitor, True Whore review

Year : 2011
Genre : Drone Black Metal
Label : Profound Lore Records
Origin : United States
Rating : 9.0

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Jef - with a single "f" - Whitehead, A.K.A Wrest is the central figure of American black metal one man band Leviathan, in which he is responsible for all vocals, lyrics and instruments. This release has a rather unique character to it, because it was conceived after / during Whitehead underwent a stormy period of personal experiences, and you can allegedly tell the same about his ex-girlfriend. Noise Shaft openly despises physical violence and finds art an acceptable place to portray it in AND lock it in, and, also a place to get rid of all real life desire - if there is any - to exercise violent acts. Why do I say this, you ask. Here is why : according to Wikipedia, quotation starts : "Jef Whitehead was charged with criminal sexual assault and aggravated domestic battery on 9 January 2011 and held on $350,000 bond after allegedly attacking his girlfriend and raping her with tattoo tools. Whitehead was released after the bail was dropped to $100,000."

Beyond considering physical violence unacceptable, semi-worthless critics has no business nor function offering opinion on the matter, because it would necessarily be one to be resonated from a self-claimed "higher moral ground" that is more about the person who is standing on it than about the circumstances he is offering his impressions about. Only the ex-girlfriend, Wrest, and God knows what actually happened for real, and all other beings should probably be confident that everyone will get what they have sculpted for themselves, in the long run. The mills of God are grinding slowly. But they ARE grinding. With that, I see no need to add further thoughts to the legal connotation, but still remain super-curious of the black metal music Jef Whitehead came up with while living the real life turmoil the content has been recorded in. Ladies and gents, let's talk about the music.


True Traitor, True Whorror sounds significant, sick, massive, brittle, ugly, disgusting, interesting, deranged, unhinged and most importantly, rampant. One thing is guaranteed : you won't be able to get away with the actual lyrics-, in fact, not with a single proper word of those - that Wrest is voicing through 342342423234 effect processors, but it is not primarily important, not for this moment. The lyrics will be something to behold upon their release, but Whitehead really would have to be super-unwise to condone violent/threatening lyrics on an album while facing a series of trials. The titles of the tracks are indicative of violent acts on their own, so that should be sufficient enough to defend against at the court, I imagine.

The music on this disc is bubbling with a possessed kind of intensity, that which is definitely not a very positive kind either, to say the least. Wrest is giving away intentionally thin, - production wise - yet efficient cracked-voice rants about fucks knows what, but you can clearly hear and UNDERSTAND the mere INTENT behind the register he is delivering the vocals in, and there is no doubt in you at all that this register is serving exclusively bad news for you all day long.

What I especially enjoy about this release, are the compositions themselves, and the album's brutally intimate production values : the LP sounds insipidly - in a good way - real and vile, and Whitehead did a superb job at parking the instruments around in the builds at attentively researched places to create efficient sonic functions. Track number 6, called "Every Orifice Yawning Her Price", for example : notice the guitars in this track : they are only as prominent as to make you cautiously acknowledge/feel their presence, and, when you move in closer to flatter their meaning, it is evident that they are here to suck your soul out through your eyeballs, too, which is the least efficient way to start a day.

A keen readiness to offer flamboyant variation is a focal trait of this rascal threatparade : Wrest, fortunately enough, is not one to sabotage cavalcade for too long, instead, he is riding on a pretty constant capacity to affect/shock you proper with the consecutive pattern structure. Mark 3:40 in the opening track, called True Whorror, for instance : a terrible vortex of inhuman voices and wailing guitars invade your receptors, and you have lost that particular war before deciding to wage it. Or track 3, called "Brought Up to the Bottom" : the siren effect is "just" discomforting, but the central riff of the initial sequence takes a deep breath and pulls backwards just to thrust forward and vomit fire on you in the next moment. The album features a twisted sense of lyrical qualities and moods, as well : this very same track reaches a conclusion that revolves around three sorrowful, morose chords that simultaneously assuage and provoke the monstrosities they are witnessing their movement in the vicinity.

It is without any doubt at all that this release is fueled by real deal-, top of the heat creative forces, and the personal experiences that have invited those, are not something I feel the need to offer a necessarily incompetent judgment upon. Let's hope that Jef Whitehead will keep his demons exclusively in his music, because they are looking pretty good in that place, while they would necessarily be pestilence and disease if released any other way. With its superb, garage-charm-intimacy production values and a relentless intent to bully your receptors around in an inventive, exigent and meticulously sculpted fashion, True Traitor, True Whore reeks musical significance all the way through, and I like it.

Rating : 9.0 / 10

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Esoteric - Paragon of Dissonance review

Year : 2011
Genre : Funeral Doom
Label : Season of Mist
Origin : United Kingdom
Rating : 9.2 / 10

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Esoteric - Paragon of Dissonance is spaceship-delerict doom metal with its focus exclusively directed on the incapacitated states a human is in and constructs its assumed reality by. This band is out to rip your face off to help you see better with the heart, but, according to the music contained on this double barreled, it is not at all guaranteed that what the heart sees, will be to its liking, either.

If you want to go mad-, or, at the very least, would prefer to suck on the tongue of good old fashioned existential dread as result of you lacking the capacity to consciously and radically adjust those at any time, - which is indeed not something we possess the capacity for, but we are permitted to accept this state and do our best to improve this capacity in the future, [- by improving our current ones, for example?? -] then this CD is your immediate premiere choice to move in for the ancient, saggy tits of existential anxiety.

I bet she is a much more adept kisser than you, and no, I do not want to try. This review will include a superb nervous system trick as well, if you need one. If you don't, then I apologize. Yet, as for now, read on to find out how the latest Esoteric delivery to date crashes into your concept of reality.


Esoteric seems to be a critic, and one with a troll temper at that, and this double CD set is openly out there to rip your face off, so the access to your third eye is realized, at last. Esoteric expects you to give thorough face time - oops - to your dire companion Mr. Unbeknownst, the guy who is equally open about his agenda to bury a part of you every single day.

Esoteric is crawling, crushing doom metal reigning evident-rampant, primarily realized by analog instruments. Big, tidal-wave drums, guitars tuned to the depths of hell, and bass wide enough to make your subwooffer reconstruct your DNA, what irony! Esoteric also utilizes some rather elegantly and meticulously realized digital atmospherics to spice a build up here and there with little vile vibes of much greater significance. Yet, mind us that this solution is not ever present on the release, so its occurrence always is a very efficient-, and, paradoxically enough, gracing feat to behold.

As for the main attraction of the music herein, that is none other than a superb sense for strong, albeit tormented harmonic structures and odd - in a good way - rhythms. One would be quite curious of the lyrics, as well, - though I imagine there is not much manlove in them - because what you can get away with without the textual description of those, is nothing less, nor nothing more than decent vocal delivery via traditional death metal growling.

The songs are long like a round under a banshee, and thank God & Co. for that, because Esoteric's music absolutely demands these thorough investigations. The listener can not be criticized if she/he dismisses the stimuli she/he hears if to think of it as being unsuccessful. This is not the case herein at all. Esoteric, as hinted, comes up with harmonies that are sewn out of a highly psychedelic nature, and they are so well researched-, so "well felt" and smartly sculpted indeed that listening to their progression - various basic intensity and background to them, etc - remains utterly efficient and highly enjoyable for the multitude of minutes they tend to address their autonomous, exquisite deviancies. It seems to be quite true that once a harmony is strong enough, you are not sure you want it to go away too soon. A funny thing to witness : the ending track of this double CD shows emotional/modal similarities to Epitome XII from Blut Aus Nord, in my opinion

Paragon of Dissonance is a - seemingly - robust fabric in which full musculature sonic monstrosities are handling the door knob to each other, but, to be honest the record does not even sound to be too lengthy to me, despite the program time of 1 hour 33 minutes of both discs combined. The reason for this is simple : the record investigates places time comes to a still in. Time. Is. Not. A. Factor. Herein.

You, I think, are depriving yourself from a significant musical experience if you listen to this album amidst submitting to your daily activities. Give this tightly realized mindhack attempt the decency to listen to it with your eyes closed and your hideous body being comfy, so there is only the music and you, and the experience that connects the two. Which is all it is about.

Here is the nervous system trick, which I have read in a book by Rudolf Steiner : if you want to tap into the higher worlds, then - among 23423423423 other things - you need to focus on the energy that connects your physical body with the soul. That energy is beyond your physical body, it's been around since the days of cavemen and Cleopatra, and still it is here, as a part of your being. This thought has hacked my existence for the better superbly, and I hope you find it beneficiary, too.

now BE FUCKING HORRIFIED and check back soon.

Rating : 9.2 / 10

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