Album Review: Faith No More - Sol Invictus

From their humble, early beginnings trading as Sharp Young Men, way back in 1979, through to their last studio album in 1997 and eventual break-up in 1998, Faith No More was a rabid tour de force of a band; undeniably clever performers and songwriters they remained as unpredictable as they were addictive. Their fan base grew to the point that when they re-emerged as a live act in 2009, people flooded to every festival outing to see them as a priority. The success of their own shows only spurred them on to produce this very album, their first for 18 years. So, have they messed around with their winning formula, and if so by how much?

Well, there's certainly an element of their more exploratory later albums in here, but there's also a taste of something completely new to the band - the subversive, experimental edge that has followed frontman Mike Patton's solo career around. The content feels unusually spacious with short whip-cracks of sound. It's an album unsure of itself, yet one with a wild-eyed lunatic forever ducking into and out of the shadows. It feels dark, unkempt, anguished and unruly. This is music built for the stage - hell, it's so choreographed the tracks could form scenes of a play.

Just the sound of Sol Invictus will singe the ears and sting the eyes. It's inevitably the fact that there is a step-up in production values since their last studio foray, but this has an almost maddening degree of layering and an overwhelming dynamic range. What has changed most of all here is the weakening of the band's guitar rock bias; it is a recording marked out by a chilly, piercing tone rather than one with their usually warm underscore. Roddy Bottom's keyboards emerge as the staging platform from which Patton can launch his adaptive combination of croon, spoken word and psychotic invective, and Billy Gould's bass has shifted from driving the beast to merely steering it.

From behind a progression, one strikingly similar to that of The Stone Roses, but with an added military drum-roll and a soft piano, Patton's half-whispered, half-rapped verses of the short title-track are pre-cursors to the real deal when monsters like "Superhero" and "Motherfucker" finally hit. The former snarls with menace as it plays a game of catch-and-release with the huge hook of the chorus - an enigmatic piano cascade and the lyric "Leader of men, get back in your cage". The latter is another familial, measured, half-spoken rap. Determined and fluorescing this was always going to be their party-piece - too subversive to be mainstream, too catchy to be anything other than the album's first tease. Even "Sunny Side Up" proves they aren't messing when it comes to driving home the hooks, while always bouncing ideas off the backbone of the track. Here, they conjure up a passage of funk guitar, burbling backing vocals, and transient classic piano. The boys appear to be diving in to their task with their confidence high and their imaginations bubbling nicely.

They also seem just as comfortable connecting with their past as they are keen to experiment with new sounds. One track in particular, "Separation Anxiety", appears to step firmly into the footprint of their 1992 "Land Of Sunshine" hit and that jagged rumbling underscore overlaid by rapid, lyrical bursts. Yet, it also explodes from it into sections of maniacal raving with Patton employing a vocal element not a million miles from that of Deftones/Palms' Chino Moreno's.

Ultimately though, there's more here that will shock than will appease. You'll notice that, seeping up between the cracks in the pavement, we also get a variety of atmospheric effects which daub the album with strong, stylized strokes. For example, "Cone Of Shame" is the biggest step into the warped mind of Patton's recent body of extreme music and is heavily-embedded with minor keys. Then, "Rise Of The Fall" plays with depth of field; layered deep and recorded both in your face and way at the back of the room. Bursting with a folky shtick it employs arcane instrumentation - possibly, castanets and accordion with what sounds like a dampened or plastic-stringed guitar. There's also "Matador" to engage with, which pulls through elements akin to the dark work of Steven Wilson.

As a final statement, "From The Dead" is awash with colour, yet feels detached from the rest of the album. It really is an easy-listening bolt-on bonus without direction or purpose. With that in mind, it seems obvious that, as expectation has raged out of control for this album, Sol Invictus was always going to disappoint on some level. No, it isn't the masterpiece so many dreamed it would be but, then again, it does what Billy Gould promised it would - it "kicks things up a notch". Of course, if Patton manages to mimic this degree of mania in a live setting, then all will be forgiven. The jury remains out on whether they can rediscover their mojo, but if they are to do it by warping perceptions then they're making all the right noises; just perhaps not in what many will perceive to be the right order.

Also online @ The Line Of Best Fit = http://www.thelineofbestfit.com/reviews/albums/faith-no-more-sol-invictus

Album Review: Skyharbor – Guiding Lights

For their first full studio release, Skyharbor‘s two-disc Blinding White Noise created a sonic shockwave that reverberated around the world receiving plaudits at every turn. They made enough of an impact to have their second funded by their fans so they really must have felt the pressure when constructing it. We are therefore delighted to report that this Indian-British combo have knocked it out of the park.

For starters, the album art by Michael De Lonardo is simply gorgeous. The flaring streaks of light and graduated pink shading create the illusion of slow-motion whilst the subject matter plays on the enormity of the subjects lurking within. Most likely taking inspiration from the birth, late last year, of his first child, lead vocalist Daniel Tompkins’ lyrics deal with the rough concepts of birth, re-birth, life choices, death, evolution and entropy. The music matches up working as an exploration of sound and mood, and as such takes them away from the heavy rhythms employed on their début. Here they linger in the twin realms of post-rock and dream pop, reaching out to the ambient qualities of bands like Palms, Oceansize, and Uneven Structure.

Though there is a beautiful flow to the music and an aching search to make colourful connections to what might be termed the modern pop song, they do still indulge themselves in dragging the music away from the standard, more recognisable structures, often dissecting tracks into two or three-part movements. Exploration and dissolute patterning still play an important role in discovering the true heart of each piece. Some then, may say this isn’t heavy enough (there is no Chaos here, no Sunneith Revankar) and typically the syncopation and palm-muted rhythmic undertow has been smoothed and flattened allowing the dream pop vibe to take over. Notably, though, this is not to the detriment of the songs. This change of direction has also freed Tompkins to explore the warm, tones of that sultry vocal of his; he never raises his force of delivery above a semi-anguished cry and he most definitely does not scream or roar. Hell, he even morphs into George Michael when he takes it down to a breathy lilt, something we’ve never noticed him doing before.

The most straight-forward pieces head the cast, with the punchy ‘Allure’ (featuring Periphery guitarist Mark Holcomb) and the quite simply immense rush of ‘Evolution’ still breaking their shackles but hauling themselves back to the spine for the close. In fact, the latter track is worthy of extra special mention for its warm build, gorgeously-layered centre and hellishly catchy verses. The thing is an absolute earworm – a perfect companion piece to BWN’s award-winning ‘Maeva’.

Elsewhere, the multi-part ‘Halogen’ doesn’t shirk away from complete changes of direction with the stunning input of a female spoken and sung vocal (probably Hieroglyph‘s Valentina Reptile who appears on the cracking ‘Kaikoma’) changing the emphasis. For the biggest show of force, head straight to ‘New Devil’. This has a nagging, cantankerous edge to it, with the affected stringwork hinting at an admiration for the work of The Safety Fire. As a neighbour and yet coming from the other end of the scale, ‘Patience’ is a fragile beauty of a piece; sashaying gently; eloquent and enigmatic. Then, to close proceedings, ‘The Constant’ sports input from multi-instrumentalist Plini Roessler-Holgate and slaps on the layers to paint a rich, striking picture of life in constant motion.

When the songs themselves aren’t blowing your mind, it’s the little touches that elevate this album to a different level. From the heavenly choir that sprinkle their “hallelujahs” at the terminus of the title-track to the passage of spoken Japanese that flavours ‘Kaikoma’- they all make their mark. Some of the more self-indulgent tracks require more perseverance – growers like ‘Idle Minds’, ‘Miracle’ and ‘Guiding Lights’ only making their mark after several listens. It’s no use though. No matter how hard you search for dips in quality, there’s no getting past the simple fact that from any angle this is a potential album of the year. Skyharbor have grown-up, fine-tuned and quietly evolved – we are all just struggling to catch up.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2014/11/14/skyharbor-guiding-lights-2/

Streaming now: http://music.basickrecords.com/album/guiding-lights

Album Review: Palms – Palms

Rip out the gnarled beasties that lurked within ISIS, the howling, human cyclone that was Aaron Turner and the sudden, throaty wall-of-sound guitar that Michael Gallagher was capable of, and you’re left with a bit of a soft touch. However, throw in the unique, game-changing voice of Deftones’ Chino Moreno and suddenly you have an excitingly fresh, dynamic combo that offers the potential for something truly special. Early run-throughs of this, Palms’ self-titled debut, reveals that the heart of ISIS still beats on and within Jeff Caxide (bass), Aaron Harris (drums) and Bryant Clifford Meyer (keys and guitars) it appears to be beating more strongly than ever. The dark, brooding anger of their old band may be gone, but retention of emotion is still their raison d’être and this thing is flooded with it.

With everything kept in-house, right down to the production and mixing duties (handled by Harris), the overall tone is immediately familiar. ISIS’ burnt-out, skidding instrumentals meet Chino’s gorgeous croon head on and the end result, although being way more lush than expected, is littered with moments that remove your capacity for resisting emotion and motion – your heads will nod, your hair will stand on end and your spine will shiver.

Doing justice to the impact that “Future Warrior” has made on this reviewer is a tough ask. With its cogently circular verse, bridge and chorus, it is a creation that is about as tangibly close to being populist as these artists would ever dare travel, and yet it resists any of the finer trappings of the mainstream by remaining beyond the reach of those fashionistas with their prerequisite short-attention spans. God forbid they ever release a radio edit though – it could make and break them all at once. Chino’s vast vocal range, from deep, softly-whispered croaks to piercing, divergent, anguished howls, beautifully complements the warm, haunting tones and creamy textures of the strings and keys, lifting them from the warm, crystal-clear waters of their birthplace to the heavenly skies above.

The difference between the similarly luscious, soft-hearted tracks “Shortwave Radio” and “Tropics” and the rougher, electro edges of “Mission Sunset” is marked. The latter, dark of purpose, burns with a slowly-released reserve of buzzing energy and clanging melancholy. The first signs of imperfection crop up here as the vocal and backing do jar a little in places, almost like two pieces from different puzzles, wedged together. “Antarctic Handshake” isn’t faultless either and although it truly is suitably spartan and determinedly steady of pace, the tone remains unnvervingly warm as pastel vocals are brushed back and forth across a gentile, yet vibrant backdrop. At nigh on 10 minutes, it is mostly just filler, spending much of its running time warbling within its watery repose, rebounding back off its own walls and doesn’t age at all well.

It would be harsh to expect this debut release to be wholly organic, but it is an interesting novelty to discover the oddly digital, viscous quality that lurks within. As much as you loved Deftones gritty, subversive edge or ISIS’ heaviosity, this ambient-minded collective are, as Chino suggests on “Shortwave Radio”, just as capable of offering you both polar extremes – “Ascending you to Heaven whilst staring into Hell / You’re staring into Heaven, descending into Hell”.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/06/palms-palms-ipecac/