Album Review: Servers – Everything is OK

“Well I know what I just said. For those of you who came with us, everything is OK” intones the voice and just like that this sophomore provides the perfect link to their debut and we’re off.

Having shown us just a glimpse of their new wave leanings on their debut album, Servers have expanded this thread now to include a synthetic swagger that tip-toes between the worlds of dark pop and industrial rock. It has made for a cleaner, more vibrant sound. However, their vast grooves are now less impacting having been flattened to create simpler, more accessible structures that seem over-reliant on a singular hook. Is this a dangerous game they are playing here?

Well, the initial tracks like “Spells” and “My Friends Are Enemies” build from solid bases but do begin to crumble at the point of choral release. The slackening of rhythmic bite in the former track, from those rumbling drums loaded with tribal menace, is certainly an odd experience. The latter track is certainly spiky enough, ripped with dark fizz and a groovy electro-buzz but again the choruses feel slack. There’s definitely a need for them to punch more.

Happily, what follows brings the power. Yes, the bitter and twisted “To Hell With You” and the chant and chop of “Bodies In The Ground” set about revisiting the manic splatter of their debut with plenty of grunt and a vitriolic crush instigated by overdriven guitars. This power surge is ably complemented by some of Lee Storrar’s wildest roars. Acting like a shot in the arm it feels like we’re back on track. By regularly switching tempos, Servers take us on an emotional rollercoaster. “Unconditional” goes completely against the grain of the other tracks, picking up from a ponderous quiet verse to instigate a huge kinetic chorus. There’s a sweet orchestral intro to dissect, an addictive vocal hook and a bouncing heartbeat underscore too.

Then when all seems well, the band start meddling with formulaic pop constructions as “Our Lady Of Bad Counsel”, “I Will Make You” and “Codes” hit. The former drags us kicking and screaming back into the past with bursts of synth and a feisty but simplistic rhythm. It even drops in some driven, upbeat, punk-pop elements. Getting specific, “Codes” is just pure Zoolook-era Jean-Michel Jarre. That repeating beat sampled from a short vocalisation, so familiar, so incessant, smacks into lyrics that slowly recount the putrid stench of murder. Then, they find another gear and bring more orchestral and synth backup into the mix to offer an element of power metal.

By the time you hit the dull, blueprint candy of “I Will Make You”, you’ll sense that something made of purest slate-black evil is at play. The band have lightened the music to use as a tool to fool. Those taped interjections you’re hearing come from media broadcasts and interviews and are revelations from the the minds of deranged cult victims and their instigators. Conceptually and lyrically, it’s a pretty damn wicked and the inference is to play off the light music against the dark wordplay. Have they gone in hard enough though? The delivery does seem to fall short and those gentle suggestions feel too weak. Imagine the mayhem they could have created here. Each psychological exploration could have powered the music, exploded eardrums and bitten down harder. Would it be fair to point out this comes on the heels of Periphery’s truly heart-rending MK Ultra-dissection, Juggernaut?

Look, Everything Is OK is… OK. With its hints of nineties grunge and naughties’ alternative rock scenes, it certainly feels like a step backwards from the punch that so marked their debut. It’s shorn of so much of its sparking emotion. It’s poppier, less vicious, superbly aggressive in spots but even those points weaken the album by highlighting those bits that really aren’t. Hell, there is certainly a dark side to it and the more you persevere and the deeper you sink into it, the more visible its intentions become. “The world has gone to shit” screams the PR blurb, so why doesn’t this album feel like a fair representation of that mindset when to do so was clearly the band’s intention?



Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/08/servers-everything-is-ok-undergroove-records/

Album Review: Primus – Primus And The Chocolate Factory

Not many bands have released albums throughout one decade, skipped one, then returned to release more in the next. But then Primus are no ordinary band. And here they are with their original line-up (frontman Les Claypool, guitarist Larry LaLonde and drummer Tim Alexander) all back together and set to release their first full-length studio set for the first time in nearly 20 years. And their project? A reworking of the 1971 soundtrack that accompanied the original Charlie And The Chocolate Factory film. I titter ye not.

Created as a reaction to the horrors imposed by the ghastly 2005 remake with the $150 million budget, Les turned to the one with the $3 million budget that so defined his youth – “I really wanted to pay homage to the film that was very important to me as a kid and very influential to me musically. And as opposed to going in and recording the songs and playing them the way they are in the film, we twisted them up a bit… we twisted them up a lot“.

It’s very apparent that, whilst dipping into the innocence, joy and colour that so burst out at them from the celluloid screen, Primus have also mastered the more sinister aspects lurking behind the factory and its owner. Of course, the wondrous industrial machines of the film play a part here. In fact, they take the starring role with each track finding its own rhythmic pump, groan and splurge to play along to. Les also uses a variety of voices to graphically narrate the story channelling a range of styles from Mike Patton to Kermit The Frog.

Lurking at the heart of the album, introduced by the, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, four seconds of introductory fanfare that is “Lermaninoff”, are the tracks “Pure Imagination” (with its slowly crescendoing background scales imparting the fear of God into the listener), the “Oompa” variations and “Semi-Wondrous Boat Ride” (complete with gruesome Jaws-esque bow-sawing). Here, they dig into the underlying horror of using temptation as an excuse to abduct kids (no matter how flawed those characters may be) with Les reprising Gene Wilder’s manic, wild-eyed Pied Piper figure. Flashed, suppressed images of beheaded chickens and maggoty corpses will undoubtedly return from your collective memory bank.

“Candyman”, backed by a pained moo-ing setting the rhythm and a nifty rat-a-tat lyrical style, is an odd one, with the majestic howling echoes of “Farewell Wonkites” not far behind. However, the mad ravings of “Wonkmobile” takes the prize for freakiest inclusion. Understandably, the similarity of the four “Oompa” tracks do hold the album back but there are also some songs that feel detached from the overall tone. As an example, the variety of instrumental touches that back “Give It To Me Now” do kick it from the souks of Marrakech to Morricone’s Wild West but as a rule it’s played just too darn straight to fit.

You will recognise the amount of love and thought that has gone into these re-workings and the result really is something the band can be rightly proud of. Alternative in every sense of the word, elegant in places and truly scary in others, Primus’ Chocolate Factory is definitely a place you’ll want to visit. C’mon, Paramount – re-release the film with this soundtrack worked in. Just for shits & giggles?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/10/primus-primus-and-the-chocolate-factory-ato/

Album Review: Chimaira – Crown Of Phantoms

At the forefront of the New Wave of American Heavy Metal, lurking between the spasming core of Lamb Of God and the thundering grooves of Machine Head, Chimaira have forged a network of paths, rarely stopping to settle too long on one signature sound. Sure, they’re long-time fans of the skull-crushing breakdown but their knack for integrating genres has meant their career in music has been one long progression. In 2011, the band and the fans, already rocked by the departure of Chris Spicuzza and Andols Herrick, had to deal with the bombshell of losing guitarists Rob Arnold and Matt DeVries. That hit fans pretty hard with many rebelling to cries of “R.I.P. Chimaira”. Two years down the line, however, and they’re back to operating at full power with Matt Szlachta (Dirge Within), Austin D’Amond (Bleed the Sky) and, well, half of Dååth stepping in to plug the gaps.

Now, someone wiser than me once said “He who rejects change is the architect of decay” so, let’s look on the bright side here. Chimaira have clearly viewed this all as an opportunity to properly toy with their sound once more and have shifted to one with a more industrial edge. Break it down and the catalyst here has undoubtedly been Sean Zatorsky who has taken on the task of handling the electronics, ambient supplements and additional vocals. If he’s not a fan of Fear Factory’s new album, I’ll eat my hat. There’s also the welding of Emil Werstler’s chaotic leads onto Szlachta’s mathy groove and you begin to realise just how potent this new line-up really can be.

Take opening track “The Machine”, with the line “The time has come to reboot the machine”. Oh, yes, they mean business and this chugs, clanks and groans like some vast factory of pistons operating at full bore. D’Amond’s drums are immense with ballistic double-kick and skins stretched to the point you’d swear he’d used botox on them. Everything else up top is set to chug and batter you to death, but they haven’t forgotten how to write big in all this either. Bursting with musicality and almighty singalong choruses, “No Mercy”, “Plastic Wonderland” and the title-track all have enough pomp and power in them to flatten any venue.

There’s also curios like the bleak monster “Love Soaked Death”, the thrashy “Spineless” and the subterranean “I Despise” to consider. The latter has a dark, multi-faceted mathematical quality about it all. Borrowing from others it fuses elements like slow vocal whoops and piercing string slides with djent’s arrhythmic bottom line to create something truly menacing. Vocalist Mark Hunter’s obsession with firearms takes another step forward too with “All That’s Left Is Blood” refining his point down to the chilling line “Feel the cold steel on the back of your head, one click and it’s over”.

If this wasn’t Chimaira, a band who actually understand the concept of a two-sided vinyl, then “The Transmigration”, with its chanting, clanging atmospherics, classical strings, keys and eventual noise disintegration, would be a track one banker. However, instead of being a throwaway (oh so passé) instrumental intro, it’s the perfect mood-piece that creates space mid-album, allowing its listeners a moment to breathe, dividing it up into bite-sized chunks. As a bonus, it provides the perfect set up for the monstrous vitriol and muscle of that title-track.

The one problem with Crown Of Phantoms is not the concept of a stylistic overhaul, but the fact that their “machine” feels like it may have malfunctioned before the “reboot” could be completed. After setting things up with that opener, they only really pay lip service to the concept itself, choosing to integrate it completely into the groove elements. A more concerted effort might well have eradicated the fillers and might have provided opportunity to nail an album with even more diversity. Fear not, though, this new line-up has done an immense job of giving Chimaira a truly gritty quality. Consequently, Crown Of Phantoms is still going to cut and nick you throughout and will leave you with a strong metallic taste on your tongue.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/08/chimaira-crown-of-phantoms-long-branch-records-spv/

Album Review: Ill Niño – Epidemia

Ill Niño are one of those bands that you either like or loathe. Many believe their nu-metal bleatings should be sent packing back to the past where they belong. There are those, however, who like their hybrid sound and are simply happy to enjoy their headbanging grooves and funky rhythms; they are the folks who have decided not to pigeon-hole them and that’s a wholly admirable stance to take.

Anyone remember a song called “2012″? It lies forgotten by most, deep in the midst of 08′s Enigma. That song, in particular, struck a chord with me because it did the musical equivalent of grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking. With its tight, feisty metal licks wrapped around airy Latin pop rhythms, it served as my wake-up call to just how far this band could stand out from the pack. Well it’s 2012, folks, and Ill Niño frontman Cristian Machado clearly hasn’t missed the irony when he recently commented: “It’s 2012 and we’re all still alive. It’s time to redefine Latin metal.”

Epidemia, as a follow-up to Dead New World (an album that I felt carried too many mixed messages and one where the Latin rhythms no longer felt integral), is a work that focuses on the heavy. And when I say heavy, I mean fridge-in-the-face heavy. Machado’s “redefine” claim is played out by the fattening up of the band’s already-present industrial metal vibe. Tracks like “The Depression” with its heavy-duty pulse, “Eva” with that petulant bite and, the album highlight, the startlingly impressive “Invisible People”, really lay it on thick – they each carry an element of Fear Factory’s rough-housing but always pull up short of instigating anything approaching their kind of crush.

To ram their renewed position of strength home the band clearly felt it necessary to draft in vocalist Frankie Palmeri of Emmure. He takes the mic for “La Epidemia” and together with Machado they litter the track with alien gargles, pig grunts and random blasphemy to accompany the sugary-sweet, affected harmonies – yes, those flirtations (with sounding auto-tuned) that remain the band’s weakest link. If I’m honest, it’s a step too far and the incompatible juxtaposition of rough and smooth is all a bit of a mess.

The old remnants of Latin rhythm, those few that they have left, come to light in absurdly brief snatches of mid-song bongo or Spanish guitar. Most of what matters has been sucked up by regulation blasts of snare, tom and kick-drum. You’ll also spot the occasionally gritty lyrics, although they show a certain naïvety with some. Particularly biting lines include “We are misery / We are suffering” as backing vocals to “Start a war / death wants more” (from “Death Wants More”) but scratch the surface and you get the oddly contradicting suggestion of “Nuclear surrender to relieve this shameful endeavor” (from “Escape”).

With a firm backbone, but still suffering from a lack of memorable bites, a penchant for grinding repetition and carrying plenty of non-descriptive baggage, Epidemia may walk the band in a vaguely new direction, but a quick glance back reveals them to still be a long march from their greatest moments.



Also online @ The NewReview (with 30-sec samples) =  http://thenewreview.net/reviews/ill-nino-epidemia

Album Review: Avatar - Black Waltz

Oozing pumping melodeath from every pore, Sweden’s Avatar are now on their fourth album and yet they are a band who have, up until now, slipped right through my fingers. Naturally, I was disappointed to discover they aren’t blue-skinned Na’vi from the planet Pandora but, having scanned the album title and proto-gothic freak on the cover, neither do they sound anything like Insane Clown Posse or the craptacular My Chemical Romance. In fact, there is a band that springs to mind when you add the album’s industrial overtones to their proclivity for thick black-make up, uniforms and all things Big Top, and that band is Rammstein. Now, that is a hard act to follow.

“All Is Lost” and “Torn Apart” kick off Black Waltz with the kind of rhythmic hammering you’d associate with a powerful steam locomotive haring down the rails. Sure, those metronomic drums fire up a sweet blazing trail, but it’s frontman Johannes Eckerström, in the engine cab, stoking those fires. Scouring his lungs for more and more power, he’s like a psychotic version of Randy Blythe (Lamb Of God).

With elements of Swedish compatriots The Haunted, Deathstars and Soilwork and, from across the border, Danish rockers, Hatesphere and Mnemic, they pile on the slick production and rip into their songs following a verse-chorus-verse pattern that brushes aside any overcomplicated sequencing or wild flights of fancy. Everything they’ve got is shoved whole-heartedly into the churning drum and bass, bottom-end groove. Tracks like “Blod” and “Smells Like A Freakshow” whack up the metal and, in doing so, become their fist-pumping anthems, whilst the nifty little riffs in “Paint Me Red” and “Torn Apart” add an addictive edge to spice up the deal.

With their simplistic construction and fondness for repetition, some of the tracks eke past the five-minute mark and, consequently, tend to turn a little sour – another case of over-egging a pretty straight-forward pudding. In the main, though, things are kept fast, fiery and attention-grabbing and the band have plenty of tricks up their sleeve to keep the album cannily varied.

“In Napalm” picks up a gothic bent as the band unite to deliver a whispered verse and accompanying chanted chorus, whilst the title-track goes even darker, riding snare rolls and walking us through a stageful of power-on, power-off, slow-quick theatrics (you have to check out the video, featuring circus act Hellzapoppin’, to really understand what’s going on here). Then, Avatar don a ten-gallon, chaps and chinks for “Let It Burn” and, from somewhere, find a dirty-ass blues groove and ride that buckin’ bronco for all it’s worth.There’s a few sticky moments, such as the 30 seconds of “In Napalm”s build that starts so quietly as to almost make it dead air, or the irksome twinkly chorus that kills the momentum of “One Touch”. Oh, and the near-as-dammit 10-minute, suck-it-up, harmonica-littered utter lunacy of “Use Your Tongue” wants bagging and tagging and throwing into a padded room. We’ll take it though for that killer line of “Good morning, good morning, good morning, rise and shine, rise and shine, rise and shine!”

I’m delighted to report, Black Waltz is a bit of a nutbar. The content seemingly rebounds off genres like a helpless pinball, but when it hits a bumper cap, it hits that cap with everything it’s got and that kind of commitment to the cause is a rare commodity. Yep, it’s a bit of a beast, so don’t be surprised to find Avatar breaking the machine with this one. Heck, they may not have anything like the wanton desire for destruction that Rammstein have, but you still wouldn’t want to be trapped in the same room as them. Hold on to your hats!

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/avatar-black-waltz