Album Review: Soma Dark - Begin

Show me an album cover of a shadowy figure creeping through a gloomy, misty wood and I'd bet my bottom dollar that a black metal band was responsible for it. Well, I'd end up with an empty wallet if you showed me Soma Dark's debut effort, Begin. With a raging groove, catchy riffs and sharp, unobstructed vocals, the Manchester quintet are about as likely to wear corpsepaint as they are to burn a church down. Nope, they are far too ensconced in their pastime of seeing which musical styles work best together.

There's clearly plenty of Machine Head worship lurking at the heart of their decision to start crossing those genre streams. It's there from the start with vocalist Michael Hardman invoking the spirit of Rob Flynn with soars and roars in equal measure, whilst throughout Arun Kamarth and Stuart Armriding trade Demmel chugs and shreds like they're going out of fashion. The rhythmic drive that drags you kicking and screaming into "Passengers Of Time" ends up with freewheeling arpeggio riffs crashing into crusty bass and skittish drums. There's plenty of 'Tallica influence in here too with a good dose of mainstream melodics to help you through tracks like "Lies Behind" and "A Tone Set For The Lace Skyline". There are also doomier qualities that skulk within the gritty seams of "Mauna Kea" and "2505" and, to top it all, "Faultline" and "Resolute", with its Cavalera-esque blurt, go all rapcore on us and the neat production instantly responds by disassembling itself in protest.

In the end, either unnecessarily complex structures or these insane vocal machinations only succeed in break up the flow of the heavier tracks and the slower numbers just don't venture into those misty woods far enough when trying to seek out a menacing solitude in which to bury their bodies. There's a doughy, repetitious quality to the poppier choruses and there are plenty of loose connections at vital times. There's still promise in the simpler movements of tracks like "Breathe", with its thick, boomy bass and gentle sweeping action, and the hard rocking sneer of "Forsaken And Falling" which both end up being a million times more tenacious as a result.

For a debut album, they've certainly bitten off a large chunk here and, at the moment, it's proving a bit of a tough chew. It shows they've got guts and ambition though which are definitely good qualities to have. Clearly avid metal fans with a good ear for melody and a craving for song variation, I really hope they can match their ambition with a tighter, more clearly defined vision next time around.

Also online@ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/oct11reviews/cdreviews-soma.htm

Album Review: Loch Vostok - Dystopium

Having never come across Loch Vostok before, I was quite surprised to hear, upon listening to this, their fourth album, just about everything but the kitchen sink blazing back out of the speakers at me. You name it, from the abrasive hectoring of Lamb Of God to the 80's commercial rock polish of Whitesnake (see 'Navigator') and on to the sweeping pomp of Turisas, you'll find it in 'Dystopium'. So just who are these adventurous Swedes?

History tells us that they formed back in 2001 when three members of prog-metal act Mayadome decided to split and look for something a little more destructive to play with. You really only have to know that former drummer Teddy Möller has switched instruments, to perform both lead vocal duties and lead guitar for Loch Vostok, to realise the talent that lurks within their ranks. With 'Dystopium' they clearly have their sights set on ruffling a few feathers with potentially provocative song titles like 'A Mission Undivine' and 'World Trade Dissenter' - no, it's not quite what you think.

'Dystopium' starts big. Real big. Fiercely thrashy, shredded guitars release to give the spasming bass, pounding kick-drum and emotive, wildly adaptive Dickinson-esque vocal some space to spread themselves out. The black chords, djent dynamics and death motif quickly step in to wrench away any prospect of the music getting too emotive and instead manage to bestow an almost seedy vibe on proceedings. 'Repeat Offender' changes tack once more and bristles with expansive melodics, mimicking the same big choruses and stop-go patterns that makes Viking metal such a force.

There's also the aforementioned 'World Trade Dissenter' to chew on and this turns out to be an attack on multinational corporations playing games with our earnings rather than a few choice words about the War On Terror. It gallops along with a strong, clear vocal taking the lead - imagine the kind of sound Iron Maiden might make if they channelled Therion and you won't be a million miles away.

Shamefully, the band seem to run out of steam half-way in and try too hard to mix up their bag of tricks. There's the crazily overplayed mish-mash of prog and power that is 'In The Wake Of Humanity', whilst the insidious 'Viral Strain' comes off sounding like the deformed bastard son of O.S.I. and Betraying The Martyrs as they try and weld electro-industrial metal, with added vocoder, to the side of the rumbling tank that is pig-grunting deathcore. There are also far too many occasions where they disappointingly fade out just as they are getting going. Now that's unforgivable. They really need to tighten this ship up. Having said that, there are moments like 'Absence', which you'll be stunned to hear sounds an awful lot like they've stumbled upon Devin Townsend's marbles, and 'Sacred Structure', which is the undoubted star of the show. It integrates more progressive elements, like its kitsch, warbling guitar riff into the verse and a classy harmony to an insanely catchy chorus.

Being as chaotic as it is, 'Dystopium' is by no means a perfect album (for one thing, Teddy Möller definitely needs to tighten up his shaky, nail-gargling growls), but it's definitely worth checking out if you're a fan of inventive melodeath or, ironically, modern progressive metal. You do have to take the rough with the smooth but that's what happens when a band tries to cram every one of their influences into one album - Loch, Vostock and two smoking barrels. Sweden has been hiding a bit of a potential gem here.

Also online @ Metal Team UK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/oct11reviews/cdreviews-loch.htm

Album Review: Betraying The Martyrs - Breathe In Life

Melodeathcore. Is that even a genre? Well, it goes some way to describing what you can expect from the French sextet Betraying The Martyrs. It has to be said the prospect of this debut album has aroused a sizeable amount of interest with fans of modern metal slavering at the prospect of them building on the promise of their stunning EP 'The Hurt, The Divine, The Light'. Since then, though, a change of personnel with new vocalist Aaron Matts and guitarist Lucas D'angelo stepping in has led to a real colossus being born. This is music that will tear you apart with startlingly fresh-sounding bursts of power and then turn round and somehow soothe your frazzled senses by firing familiarity at you.

Their sound sticks a big dirty finger in the same holes that Winds Of Plague and Hope For The Dying, have been plugging of late; that whole sweeping symphonics meets hearty, visceral attack vibe. Being a Christian band, their music also comes with the inevitable well-meant messages which, depending on how observant you are, may either inspire or disaffect you. If it gives the band a passionate focus to really lay into their component parts, then you can always look to that as being the positive in such shenanigans. Passion in performance being, after all, the key to really making the biggest impact.

Their intro blusters in like the soundtrack to some blood-lusting, historical war movie. Symphonic strings, rippling piano arpeggios, fearsome chanting and drum-rolls all round. It stirs the blood and sets the scene for the onslaught of 'Martyrs' which blasts forth our first glimpse of Matts' gigantic death vocal, crammed with the most fulsome of lows. It grasps and shoves our heads into stirring ivory-key builds and emotion-soaked clean vocal which, upon first inspection, appears anything but out of place. There's an extra dimension which comes grunting spasmodically through in the technical guitar parts; parts that echo the djenty qualities of bands like Periphery and TesseracT. It's a repeating pattern that is only added to by the addictive hooks - the soulful choruses and flamboyant mini-beatdowns - in 'Man Made Disaster' and 'Because Of You'.

Now... have you ever wondered what atmospheric metal dubstep might sound like? Check out 'Liberate Me Ex Inferis'. It drags you in with a big industrial swirling, reminiscent of something Jean-Michel Jarre might produce, then rapidly transforms into a vast beast inhaling and exhaling through a gas mask. It's one scary-arsed sound but even this is out-mentalled by the crashing track that follows. 'Leave It All Behind' crushes and drives itself into steep climbs before stalling to loop and spin crazily out of control. It's a bone fide lunatic and it should come with an optional straitjacket.

Track after track the band dig at your senses, sinking their instruments of torture into flesh time and time again. Not taking the somewhat suspect wholly-clean soft rock number, 'Azalee', (yes, a soft rock number) into account, the band's only real weakness is at the points where the softer, heartfelt vocal parts step out from knitting together the dark and the light. These moments come when the music dips and they step forward. These are also the moments where their rise and fall begins to sound quite similar in construct from track-to-track. When they're in there with the bottom-end pit-worthy powerhousing (on tracks like 'Life Is Precious') there isn't a problem but, when they aren't (for instance, 'Leave It All Behind'), they sound repetitious and far less addictive than they should be. They become without doubt the focus (the parts that unite the crowd; the singalong; the fists-to-the-sky moments) so that's where the songwriting needs to step up another notch for future albums. Other than that, I'm just... well... speechless.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/aug11reviews/cdreviews-betraying.htm

Album Review: The Living Fields - Running Out Of Daylight

Chicago's The Living Fields spend their days dwelling on dark times for mankind. It's these injustices that inspire them to write lyrics and compose music on the subject of war, disease, self-doubt and self-destruction. What churns out of them is this eclectic doom that bridges gaps between symphonic, black, death and folk metal.

'Running Out Of Daylight' quickly-establishes itself as their own personal masterpiece. By refusing to apply limits to their music they have managed to compose the longest and shortest songs of their careers, featured strings for the first time and, by seeking out the best production package, have achieved an end result that is a rich, emotion-soaked tapestry of layers - something that they can rightly be proud of. The music carries themes, hooks and lines across from one track to the next; proof that it is a work that has been fully realised from beginning to end.

Tracks divide themselves into segments - each part collapsing into the next to bring us hope before crushing it. 'Perseverance', for instance, rides out on a series of upbeat battle metal strings and chugs, but it soon turns to drone back a clean lament. 'From Miseries To Bloodsoaked Fields' does away with such frivolity and simply plunders bleak chord structures to inject feelings of despair and hopelessness that the death-edged vocals only exacerbate. You'll hear the rolling snare of a lonely soldier sounding out across a misty battlefield, the cannon-fire and the damaged cries of those that have been injured. The futility of war is quite brilliantly portrayed.

'When The Walls Go Down' refuses to follow it's brethren past the nine-minute barrier and reduces itself to a beautifully succinct three minutes of crystalline, campfire folk that issues a line that hooks us in. It's reminiscent of the way that both Fleetwood Mac and Caravan pair-down their songs for maximum effect. 'Bitterness' begins in similar vein, dragging forth Floydian comparisons but flowers out into a driven rock beast with gothic and power overtones. Everywhere you look there is something fresh to listen to, but none quite hit the mark like 'Glacial Movements' - "The awesome power of erosion that forged the valley: deeper / it carved the mountain and laid the stones where they stand: eternal". Like a great, churning goliath its awesome might is exemplified by the nail-biting string builds which speak to the listener at both cinematic and geological levels.

It's true... some of the tracks are overly long but none even come close to the ridiculous seventeen-minute drag that forms the jammed-out title-track. Not everything hits the mark then, but you do have to consider that this isn't your average doom record. You'll rarely find so much light in such a dark place so it most certainly comes recommended, but do proceed with caution - it's inevitably going to divide aficionados of the genre.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/july11reviews/cdreviews-living.htm

Album Review: Baaba Kulka - Baaba Kulka

I know, I know. You're about to start listening to me waffle on about fiddle-de-dee folk and bippety-bop pop music and you want to know why the hell as a rabid metal fan you should carry on reading. For now, all I want you to do is take a moment, a deep breath, as I try to explain who the hell Baaba Kulka are and what the devil they have got to do with Iron Maiden.

Comfortable? Then I'll begin. The driving force behind the Baaba Kulka project is the award-winning Polish singer/songwriter/pianist Gabriela 'Gaba' Kulka. Now, the idea of a jazz/folk artist citing Maiden as an influence, may seem a little out of left field but, to be fair, she is a bit prone to bouts of eccentricity (one listen to her off-the-wall lyrics should do it). Still with me? Okay. Well, such is her love for the Irons that she decided to gather other like-minded Polish artists (some of whom she'd worked with previously on her solo albums) to play a supposedly one-off show of Maiden covers at the Hard Rock Café in Warsaw. She could have had no idea as to how well it would be received so, needless to say, they ended up touring it all over Poland and following it up with this very album of classic Maiden songs. Naturally, us being a dedicated heavy music site, we needed to give you the lowdown on just how "metal" it is.

Well, let's just get this out of the way, it's not going to open any moshpits. However, hearing Baaba Kulka's unique take on each individual track is still a pretty rewarding experience. The familiar kick-ass lyrics, backed by a rich variety of tones and textures, takes you on a potted saunter through Maiden's early history. You can hear that each track treats each lyric as if it's something to be adored and cosseted; granted its own particular space and mood. Believe me, when I say you can feel the love.

The simple synth and deliberately-ponderous opening delivery of 'The Number Of The Beast' allows for each word to ram itself into your conscious, so hacking clear a path for Kulka's elongated quavering vocal peak to pitch you into string, brass and woodwind pieces that lope along to a stripped-back beat. The jazzy construction and salsa rhythms of 'Wrathchild' are joined by the soul and electronica of 'Aces High' for what could quite possibly be the spawn of Chrome Hoof and Burt Bacharach. 'Children Of The Damned', similarly, hits the groove pedal and fishes out an emotional, piano-led, funk-fuelled piece of pop that, for some reason, has me thinking of those oddball alt-rockers Foxy Shazam. Oh yes, the horns are high and the Devil is dancing tonight.

All too often, though, things get just a little too odd. Baaba Kulka manage to turn 'Prodigal Son' into a meandering Queen-esque dance track (with Marina & The Diamonds jamming to Jethro Tull's Ian Anderson on jazz flute) and the most metal track (you could call it a kind of black pagan metal), 'To Tame A Land', a 7-minute troll through a series of macabre theatrics, simply fails to ignite any level of curiosity. The different speeds and layers never quite seem to gel and you'll find yourself hitting the skip button pretty rapidly. Ditto the minute of Gregorian chant that forms 'The Ides Of March'.

But, worst of all, they've committed the ultimate sin and rather screwed up the legendary 'Hallowed Be Thy Name'. These heathens appear to have gone so lo-fi as to construct the entire backing for the track on a tinny keyboard no less. It reminds me of that dusty old Roland we have in the corner, set to that god-awful "swing rock" drum setting with accompanying, pre-programmed chords sounding off in turn. Burn them, burn them all.

Okay I'm exaggerating but, it's fair to say the second-half of the album fails to live up to the promise of the first. On the bright side, to keep the metal flag flying, several of the tracks have a habit of suddenly breaking out the heavy and this is definitely a good thing. Take 'The Clairvoyant' which starts out flying along, disjointedly cuts to insert a half-time flamenco rhythm (yes, they actually do break out the castanets), before that acquiesces to allow the guitars to charge back in. Odd.

Weird Al Yankovic, Flametal, Richard Cheese, Rodrigo y Gabriela, Hellsongs, early-Apocalyptica - we've been here before. Yes, we've all got at least one collection by a band who play odd covers of rock/metal songs. Off the top of my head, I've got a copy of The Darkness' 'Permission To Land' as performed by The Angry String Orchestra. If you don't have one of these and/or love the Maiden, then let Baaba Kulka be your slice of dairy. If you approach this with an open mind, the novelty value may wear a little thin after the first couple of spins, but you could do a lot worse.

Also online @ Metal Team UK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/july11reviews/cdreviews-baaba.htm

Album Review: Khariot - Disymposium

Over their short lifespan, Khariot have set themselves the seemingly impossible task of welding deathly grind to prog metal. That’s one genre characterised by fleetingly abrasive bursts of anger, the other an assortment of rambling tracks that morph before your eyes over an aching passage of time. The result is, naturally, an infinitely complex warzone that has to be heard to really be believed.

The result is like this manic welding job between bands; one offering the unstoppable force, the other the immovable object. There is an impressively-crafted proficiency married to this chameleonic imagination - it makes them sound like Psycroptic covering Protest The Hero songs. They also offer this blackened death undercurrent that you could liken to 1349 giving their take on a Cephalic Carnage set. Pretty nuts, huh? All this mind-blowing mayhem and yet the music has a clearly defined path. Whether it runs along it as smoothly as it could do is debatable.

'The Hermit' offers you rambling scales, damaging chugs and rolling double-kick. You also get interwoven pig grunts and scowling top-end which team up for the scathing lines "Damn you, cursed sun! I am the tainted one! First of the last-born son", all around a section of proggish guitar that picks its way through the carnage of all that has gone before. There's a slog of unexpected piano and bow-effect synth that beckons you through from 'Dimension Shift' to the fascinating instrumental layering of 'Cacophony Of The Insane'. There is definitely some method in this madness.

Yet, there are times when the tracks become like overworked dough - like the structures have been fiddled with until their constituent parts have started to flake away to leave this incohesive mess. 'Cerebral Continuum' suffers badly from an ambitious sequence of drums and overtly jazzy stringwork. Likewise, 'Spectral Monarchy' which drives its weighty tank over most of its content. 'Crimson Sanctorium' isn't far behind but, at least, offers a section of recognisable rhythm within to settle the stomach. When they do segment the music, you are able to grab onto the coat-tails of the more insane material. I'm talking about the kind of slow-build that '...Of Frail Entanglements' offers, with its solid lump of progressive power lurking menacingly within. When you are steered through like this, to their audaciously manic attack, the music absolutely demands your attention.

Sadly, more than anything though it is the lack of fun that comes from this conglomerate of styles. It's the kind of album that comes with a frown and the bonus option of a splitting migraine; it's a work of artistic integrity that must be appreciated within its own space. Heads will nod appreciatively, oh yes, but will they be attached to thrashing bodies? I certainly have my doubts. 'Disymposium' isn’t a thing of beauty, by no means, but it is something to pin up and marvel at every now and again.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/june11reviews/cdreviews-khariot.htm

Album Review: Steak Number Eight - All Is Chaos

Steak Number Eight may be a Belgian post-rock band who sound like they're something you'd order off a meat-lover's menu but, having an average age of 18, they're also a band that would struggle to order a beer in a bar. It's probably this fact that will make you sit up and take notice rather than any other. Although these are all pretty impressive facts, your eyebrows won't raise any higher when you learn that they've supported Deftones, Torche and Pelican, nor the fact they've played Graspop, won their country's most famous rock competition, or that the legendary Matt Bayles (Isis, Neurosis, Mastodon) has mixed this sophomore album of theirs. Yes, there is a serious amount of teenage angst being laid down here. Trust me, you'll know it when they're aiming it at you.

From an introductory squall of feedback they proceed to adeptly lay down some of the heaviest, pounding rhythms I think I've ever heard. The drums and crunched guitars are like solid concrete - the gormlessly-monikered 'Dickhead' is the sonic equivalent of experiencing a bombardment of hailstones the size of baseballs. You'll find yourself ducking as each sludgy beat batters into the side of your head. There's a punkish, unhinged edge to 'Pyromaniac' where vocalist/guitarist Brent Vanneste digs out an electronically-twisted, frazzled squawk that sits somewhere between Kurt Cobain and Scott Kelly. And yet this isn't where Steak Number Eight like to idle too often.

From here, you'll recognise the shift into cleans and complex structures that mark out their more well-known progressive side. Vanneste conjures up this fantastical, distant vocal that just echoes on and on sounding like something out of the 90's Madchester scene - think Oceansize's Mike Vennart and you'll be in the ballpark. The music behind wanders somewhere between the dreamily psychedelic bent of that particular band but tacked onto the dirtier, pistoning rock slant of Pelican. The tone is very much darker than either of these though - it's almost menacing. The 9-minute 'Track Into The Sky', for instance, gets all Isis on us for a moment as the vocal roars bloody murder and the cleans chunk up before dropping out to reveal a brewing storm beneath a clunky, cyclical riff that will plink away until it annoys the hell out of you - especially when the following 'Trapped' just apes the same pattern. Opposing that 'The Calling' is almost pop-rock in its simplistic construction and transparent time signature, and the insanely lengthy 'Drowning In Your Blood' is just absolute batshit mental - things get awful messy as it tries to head in four directions at once.

All this negativity and then it all slots into place for the stunning instrumental 'Man vs. Man' and the blindingly barren 'Stargazing', which both score deep marks in the sand and dare you to walk over them. The riffs are oblique enough to dig their claws in and the guitars grind away, then simply flip over and chime. It's all very perplexing. The meshing together of tracks just falls apart under scrutiny. Their colossal opening salvo gives us a vicious scowl and yet peels away to reveal this confusingly beatific, oddly fake countenance. Having said that though, this is very much a young band with already a vast abundance of skill and a firm grasp on each concept they're attempting to pull off. They're not a million miles away from nailing it, but at the moment 'All Is Chaos' is, unsurprisingly, just too chaotic for it's own good.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/june11reviews/cdreviews-steak.htm

Album Review: Alestorm - Back Through Time

Being in a pirate-themed band means there is a finite number of songs about sailing and drinking that you can hope to conjure. Listen to 'Scraping The Barrel' from this, Alestorm's third album, and you'll see what I mean as the band ridicule their own situation with a hearty chorus of "There are no more tales to be told / no more stories from battles of old / Now it seems our journey has come to an end / We are scraping the barrel, my friend". However, Alestorm have always been on the goofy side of even the goofiest metal, so don't expect this to be them sounding their ship's "eight bells" obituary just yet.

No, it seems they have identified a new foe. "Cap'n, there be Vikings off the starboard bow" is the incredible opening cry of the title-track as the Scots, through a rather handy "mystic portal", commence battle with the kind of blazing thrash that is so redolent of Swashbuckle's debut effort. Is this the sound of them actually declaring war on Viking metal itself? Now that is a tasty prospect. Although a brief glance at the stature of the opposition initially suggests it might be a bit of a rout, I suspect these wiry old sea-dogs have more underhand methods in mind. It's all very interesting when you consider that the choral gang-chant of "One more drink" from 'The Sunk'n Norwegian' is the absolute spit of Turisas' 'One More'. Methinks, they've been eyeing up the opposition a little too closely.

Talking of drink there are plenty of drinking-themed tracks on offer. Could it be that the fist-punching 'Rum' is their answer to Korpiklaani's monstrous "Vodka"? They've certainly upped the ante when it comes to loading the backline with different instruments. There's their standard penny-whistle and accordion in there, but they've also layered the whole shebang with symphonic strings and horns. Consequently, 'Shipwrecked' swings from side to side with a catchy chorus and an impressive display of gusto whilst the long passionate lament of the aforementioned 'Scraping The Barrel' shows humour and courage (and that tacked-on noodly solo is enough to illicit a small tear).

After the acrimonious departure of Ian Wilson, who left citing he'd "had enough of the bullshit", replacement drummer, Peter Alcorn, comes through with flying colours. His lightspeeding drum-rolls, double-kick rallies and cannoning crashes forcefully lift the tracks up a notch from previous efforts. Perhaps it's his swaggering presence that has led them to try and give pop-punk an eye-patch and a peg-leg for 'Barret's Privateers' and load their closing highlight 'Death Throes Of The Terrorsquid' with death-edged black metal.

At the end of the day, 'Back Through Time' is still a bit one-dimensional, which is not a new experience when it comes to experiencing Alestorm, both recorded and live, (there's only so much "yarr", "yo-ho" and "matey" a person can take) but the determined tone of the album and the fact that they've begun to expand their sound to take on other genres makes this easily the finest work that Alestorm have yet produced. Exciting times for a band that have discovered new methods for interpreting time-worn songs. Or, in their own words, "So when the time comes to write album four / We'll scrape out the barrel once more!"

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/june11reviews/cdreviews-alestorm.htm

Album Review: Between The Buried And Me - The Parallax: Hypersleep Dialogues

Here I am staring at the album cover of Between The Buried And Me's latest album, 'The Parallax: Hypersleep Dialogues', struggling to come to terms with an image of what looks like a discombobulated, dissected drosophila. It's grotesque and yet, at the same time, strangely beautiful. In a way, it perfectly portrays the multi-layered tones and hues found within - both disturbingly monstrous and jaw-droppingly gorgeous in turns. Like metamorphosing pupae, wrapped in their glistening cocoons, you'll hear each of the tracks build from small beginnings to emerge in sequential bursts of colour. It seems a difficult task to expect them to top 2009's stunning 'The Great Misdirect', but early signs show that they may just have produced a fine companion for it.

First thing that needs pointing out is that this is dense, hugely progressive metal so don't expect an easy ride. Listening closely to the way each layer infects the layer beneath, it gives the listener the strange impression that they're riding a lift up through levels of deep-lying strata to reach the surface where each one of the three tracks reveals itself. 'Specular Reflection' comes at you with fists-flailing before it pauses to deliver the most sublime of chiming stringed arpeggios. It'll get jazzy on you, then funky. The shifting patterns will take you stumbling across a padding rhythm and overlapping melodiously-hooked vocal that manage to lift the whole track to another level. 'Augment Of Rebirth', sounding like some almighty battle between The Faceless and Protest The Hero, wheedles then hammers, chips then gouges, rips up a deathly vocal and scatters it over staccato stickwork that will end up muddling the senses to a point when you'll find yourself locked out of your own thoughts. The descent into madness is complete when they break out the cleans to go with the circus oompah. Mental, beyond belief. Finally, the contrasting warmth of 'Lunar Wilderness' gives way to raging violence in the end but still offers more in the way of accessibility than its brothers with plenty of sick, then harmonious vocals and groovy, walking bass. Hell, there's even a large wodge of chunky headbanging in there somewhere.

'...Hypersleep Dialogues' is sprawling, yet organic and, at times, BTBAM surprisingly generate the kind of ambience that only bands like Dream Theater and Nine Inch Nails can produce. In a word, it's just epic. Yet, despite all this, it's not as memorable as I'd hoped it would be. Like an expensive meal, featuring a multitude of interesting taste sensations, not every one of those flavours sticks in the memory. The album is something of a sonic bombardment and, as such, it takes multiple plays before the entire construction can fully be appreciated. On top of this - three songs, thirty minutes? When did bands start becoming so stingy with their albums' running times? There's been no end of, mainly American, releases of this length that have started popping up recently. Does half-an-hour mean it's an EP or an LP? I've certainly seen longer EPs than this. It does seem to be an odd trait that leaves one feeling somewhat swindled in the long run. Here, of course, this represents part one of a two-part concept and that already makes it feel like half an album. When you combine this thought with the fact there is no option of the quick hit, it's easy to say the band have failed to surpass their best work. If, however, you believe in quality over quantity, then you may find plenty to like about this and already be salivating over their next release.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/may11reviews/cdreviews-btbam.htm

Album Review: Of Legends - Stranded

Of Legends mix the rampant technical tomfoolery of Strapping Young Lad with the mathematical, bass-heavy polyrhythms of Meshuggah and throw it deep into the kind of roiling 'core tempest that bands like Oceano or Whitechapel get swept up in. They are the side-project of Luis Dubuc. Yes, that's Luis Dubuc, the electro-pop wizard, founder of one-man band The Secret Handshake (which he announced as defunct towards the end of last year). How he jumped from one absolute pole to the other in one vast leap is astounding. Not just because of the audacity of such a move, but that he's managed to produce something as utterly convincing as this. He's pulled in a little help from none-other than Travis Orbin (Periphery, Sky Eats Airplane) on drums but the rest of the parts are, inevitably, performed by his good self.

Not surprisingly the interest of Ben Weinman (Dillinger Escape Plan's guitarist) and Tim Smith (Atreyu, HORSE the band and Norma Jean's manager) was piqued and they are now co-managing the band which, according to the cover bumph, appears to have become a quintet with Elliot Coleman now on bass and Zack Ordway and Jacob Belcher coming in on guitar. However many they are, they have clearly enough clout behind them now to make a lasting impression.

'Stranded', their debut album, will feature twelve tracks when it finally drops in March (two more than this promo release has) and all the signs point to it being a monster. It is, essentially, an epic display of Orbin's drumming prowess and, when that ability is fed into this colossal series of body slams it leaves you feeling utterly breathless. Highlights are the scraping guitar licks and elongated open, whammied chords that litter 'Cannibal King', the donkey kick battering that the drums of 'Death Eyes' give you, and the phenomenal two-minute electro machine-gun blitzed husk that the venomous 'Consecro' snake resides in.

The vocal delivery, being nothing more than a piercing, mono-pitched lughole scraper, does tend to make one track seep into another but, thankfully, the lyrics behind the screaming banshee do a good job of identifying each track for you. Off-the-wall lines like "Stay above the water and try not to sink" (from 'Consecro') are telling, but it's the full-'Ziltoid' lunacy of "It's just the humans, they do tend to scatter" (from 'Nothing Matters') and, in particular, "OH MY GOD, we've got to keep on fighting to save the humans" (from 'Save The Humans') that shows off the extent of Dubuc's desire to emulate Devin Townsend. The day he starts sporting a skullet is the day we'll know for sure just how fanboy he is.

You simply have to ignore the writing and production inaccuracies. Ignore the obnoxious click on the drum kick-pedal (particularly noticeable on 'False God's bare double-kicked intro), ignore the lifeless smack of the snare, ignore the fact that the electronic sample fills and effects keep the album from feeling truly organic. Especially ignore the final abruptly-cut caterwauling reverb effect on 'The Last Legend' (the full-length album should leave you with a more suitable lasting impression). You have to ignore all these things because you just must admire what Dubuc has achieved here in such a short space of time and marvel at what this band could potentially become. If this man can keep his wandering mind on this one project for awhile we might see Of Legends become legends themselves.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/jan11reviews/cdreviews-ol.htm

Album Review: Darkest Hour - The Human Romance

Seven albums deep into pouring molten metal into their vast cauldron of churning thrash and splintered 'core, Washington DC's Darkest Hour have arguably been getting more emotionally adventurous with every passing moment of their 15-year existence. The Human Romance, as the title of their latest album hints at, is undoubtedly their most melodic work to date. It's riddled with cascading solos, interwoven top-end arpeggios and curios like the instrumental 'Terra Solaris' and the soft-hard-soft anthem 'Love As A Weapon' (an attempt to slipstream Killswitch Engage, maybe?) - quite a departure from those abhorrently bleak moments that littered Deliver Us and The Eternal Return then. Guitarist Mike Schliebaum explains - "We were able to take something established and re-polish it in a way where we could present it as something new. It's still got the classic vibe, but the music is a little bit more easily digestible, I mean, it's not like John [Henry, vocalist] is singing all the time. The music is a bit more ethereal yet still aggressive as hell."

Recorded with Soilwork's Peter Wichers at the Echo Mountain complex and Old Towne Recording Studios in North Carolina the band have played around with numerous tempos, the music pinging from raging blast-beats to slothful semi-breakdowns and cutely inserted mid-song gaps. 'Purgatory', for instance, is a bull in a china shop. Loaded with snorting death vocal and pile-driving double-kick it lurches from pillar to post, spinning itself dizzy in repeated wild breaks, before curling a hoof to paw the ground and charging to a close.

The Human Romance is also riddled with moments of genius - the dive-bombing strings on 'Severed Into Separates', the swaggering riff that licks the spine of 'Savor The Kill', the "aaah"-ing build that lurks within 'Man & Swine' and the lightspeeding double-kick of 'Violent By Nature'. Despite all this, there are times when they belly-flop headfirst into that horrific pile of dirgeful hair bands that we seem to be inundated with these days. 'Wound' is one of those tracks where nothing marries up; Henry's scarred vocal suddenly seems completely out of place as the guitarists throw out whining riffs that would slot neatly into a Lostprophets or Bullet For My Valentine track. 'Terra Solaris', likewise, just doesn't emotionally connect at any point throughout it's torturous ten-minute run - on an album still loaded with enough gobbing punk attitude to fill a swimming pool, it's the equivalent of finding a kitten in a moshpit.

Repeated plays reveal the biggest disappointment to be Henry's refusal to open up his mono-pitched vocal range. If the band continue to soften the inner steel that has always marked them out, something will eventually have to give with that. When it does, this awesomely talented band will finally be able to come out of the closet and reveal their true colours. It will undoubtedly be a stunning sight, but that moniker will definitely have to go. Lightest Hour, anyone?

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/jan11reviews/cdreviews-dh.htm

Album Review: Acid Witch - Stoned

Detroit's Acid Witch came hacking their way into our collective conscious with their debut album 'Witchtanic Hellucinations', a blend of death-ridden doom and cosmic psych rock all wrapped up in a gruesome, cartoonish and startlingly eye-catching cover that leapt out at record store browsers. Now, a couple of years later, though sadly delayed (for some) from a Halloween release, they have a new album, 'Stoned', for us to ogle. Judging from the blinding packaging it promises more of the same but, at the end of the day, will that be enough?

Well, it's easy to spot the band's main selling point with the brazenly comedic vocal growl of Hooded Menace's Lasse Pyykkö doing the same here for Acid Witch that Cannibal Corpse's Chris Barnes provided for Six Feet Under. It's big enough to flatten a house and when combined with slothful headbang-worthy chugs and several nifty guitar licks, that'll see you suddenly humming in the bath whilst frantically searching for the source, you have quite the fun-fuelled, drug-addled package to contend with.

'Satanic Faith' provides the shlock horror set-up with creaky old church organ and dramatic B-movie dialogue leading us down to the fuzzed-up Fu Manchu-esque stoner groove of 'Witchfynder Finder' and gnarled, repeater crust of 'Thundering Hooves'. By the time, you come across the sparkling dread of 'Whispers In The Dark', and its maniacal sound effect-strewn play on mental lunacy, all but the strongest souls, will be gripping their teddy close to their chests and casting furtive, backward glances.

Tracks like the black metal brood of 'Trick Or Treat' or the barbaric, hook-laden romp of 'If Hell Exists' impose the band's guile and personality upon you, but others are coated in a kind of ambiguous, self-absorbing gloop. The slack delivery of 'Stoned To The Grave', for instance, and the crazily-titled cheese-muncher 'Metal Movie Marijuana Meltdown' tend to meander into the background with little to make you sit up and pay attention. It seems the unwashed and unholy murk that Acid Witch peddle is enjoyable to a point, but lacks staying power. What it needs is an extra dimension and, god forbid, a hint of clarity to resuscitate it back to life.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/jan11reviews/cdreviews-aw.htm

EP Review: Burn The Iris - Sovereign

One letter shy of being horribly accused of being Emerald Isle-bashing pyromaniacs, the crazily named Burn The Iris hail from the nether regions of the Netherlands and seem at pains to claim they draw great inspiration from their progressive metal neighbours, Germany's The Ocean and Sweden's Burst. Having recorded a promo back in 2007, it's certainly taken them a fair old while to construct three tracks worthy of release - possibly a sign of either a lethargic demeanour or an absolute dedication to producing nothing but quality.

Moving through the tracks, 'Holding Time' pounds along at a fearsome rate, firing out damaged licks and globs of roared, echoic hate until it reaches a gut-churning breakdown that sinks itself into a grim mire where it meets a sticky end. Changing tack, 'Old Son' is a sand-shifting storm of Isis-inspired battery and ubiquitously contrary acoustic guitar and guest vocal, courtesy of Tamara Clijsen. The real find here though is the 10-minute ‘(Sovereign) Ghost’ which straddles an incessantly subversive, richly macabre vein that punches above its weight, inhabiting a groove that will inevitably inspire windmills and headbanging alike. It's possibly a little too choppy to really cling onto the coat-tails of Opeth, and infinitely more opaque than their named influences.

It's probably the deep, echoic vocal and lamentable repetition of minor keys that mark out the distinct streak of black metal running down BTI's spine, but it's a strong feature that bears noting for all future releases. 'Sovereign' is a fine glimpse of the capabilities of an upcoming band but, if they continue to release at a rate of one track a year, I don't recommend holding your breath for a debut album anytime soon.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/nov10reviews/cdreviews-bti.htm

EP Stream = http://soundcloud.com/burntheiris/sets/sovereign

Album Review: Ill Nino - Dead New World

Ill Niño have taken multiple knocks for continuing to forge a long-forgotten path in a long-dead genre, diligently brushing away cobwebs, side-stepping obstacles and generally keeping the faith when so many have moved on to other religions. So, seemingly, as the last of a dying breed that refuse to jump on the nay-saying bandwagon, I've accepted this chance to defend them.

Their last album, 'Enigma', a Cement Shoes release that was delayed numerous times (which naturally affected sales), turned out to be something of a welcome surprise. I'd not heard the band prior to that and what impressed me more than anything else was their luxuriantly flowing amalgamation of Latin rhythms and vocals with a good, clean dose of hard rocking. It took them seven months to record but their patience clearly paid off. 'Dead New World', on their new Victory label, finds the band singing from the same lyric sheet but clearly to a completely different tune. The recording itself has been somewhat stripped back to create rougher edges and the Latino and electro affectations are almost completely missing (they occasionally pop up teasingly, but feel like something of an afterthought in the process). They've aimed for a more basic, full-frontal assault of Bleeding Through-style macho posturing blended with an, admittedly less than awe-inspiring, rather cluttered, radio-friendly, rock sound.

I think it's safe to say Christian Machado's vocal style dominates the album, with his familiar penchant for using multiple vocal recordings to build up a kind of gang-chant in places. Here, though, he also treats us to some metalcore scream-to-clean vocals and some eye-opening deep bellows too. His range has always been pretty impressive, but this is stepping it up to a whole new level. At times, it's almost as if he's dictating the amount of grunt the rest of the band put in, rather than the other way around. Tearing into the openings of 'God Is Only For The Dead' and 'Serve The Grave', Machado gives it his all leading to a powerhouse display of drumming and a similarly hefty level of guitar chopping and chugging, whilst holding back for 'Against The Wall' and 'If You Were Me' results in a smoother ride for all. 

Brushing quickly over their Smashing Pumpkins cover of 'Bullet With Butterfly Wings', you'll find the album highlight, 'The Art Of War' ripped through with an arsenal of drum shots, and riding a Soulfly-esque tribal groove. There's also the monstrous 'Killing Me, Killing You' to consider as it pounds away creating a monumental driven energy all curled around a brief flourish of nifty Spanish acoustic guitar. This is the true sick realisation of just how pumped the band were in the recording studio and clear proof that Ill Niño aren't quite as stuck in the mud as we perceive them to be.

I've languished on the album's stronger points to create what, I believe, is a valiant defence but, if my review has changed your opinion of this much-maligned New Jersey sextet, even just a bit, then I'd whole-heartedly recommend you heading over to your iTunes/HMV/whatever store and grabbing a copy of 2008's 'Enigma', because at the end of the day it's three times the album that 2010's 'Dead New World' is.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/nov10reviews/cdreviews-in.htm

Album Review: Chickenhawk - Modern Bodies

If, like me, you find Chickenhawk to be an oddly familiar moniker, then one flick through wikipedia may prove just why. It's been used as a descriptive slang word, in ornithology to describe not just one, but three species of North American bird, in gay culture to describe an older male who prefers younger male partners, or as a U.S. political term to criticise a bureaucrat who supports military action yet avoids serving himself.

The truth can be traced back to the writer Robert Mason and his experiences in the Vietnam War or, as the band put it, the moment when the man himself told them "in some drunken bathroom incident". Fair enough. It matters little when you actually whack up the volume on Chickenhawk's new album and brace yourself as this spasmodic screamo bull threatens to buck you clean over the fence. Its riotous crowd of chiming piercing harmonics, butch chugs, clattering cymbals and chaotic snare strikes is both maddeningly catchy and utterly overwhelming. The furiously spiking intro of 'The Pin' and its hammered pick-ups is a perfect example of the amount of muddied backwash that leaks into the foreground to create this wall of violence that this genre-hopping quartet are thriving on.

Where their debut album, 'God Helmet', left us namechecking Dillinger Escape Plan and Mr. Bungle, 'Modern Bodies' feels more like a mixture of Ghost Of A Thousand, Cancer Bats and Kong with a big old hit of The Melvins thrown in for good measure - 'My Name Is Egg', for instance, burns with the latter's colossal presence, whilst 'Kerosene' digs its heels into a groove so deep it threatens to break through to the other side. Punk sensibilities power the shit-throwing and gang chant of 'Bottle Rocket', whilst 'The Let Down' draws deep on the stoner pipe until the mind-bending, semi-distant vocals start to vibrato back in on themselves. The vibe is constantly warping, dragging you this way and that, inevitably resulting in a little loss of cohesion - the multi-part 'NASA vs ESA' and 'Son Of Cern' dive a little too deep into cymbal overload and multi-part curiosity.

Interestingly, this band come from Leeds. The same hometown where curiously a band called The Plight hail from. Both formed around the same time, both throw themselves on punishing touring schedules, both have cultured a similar clash of butt-clenchingly brutal first-wave screamo and wildly inventive heavy rock, and, judging by the shining glory of their sophomore albums, both are destined for startlingly bright futures.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/oct10reviews/cdreviews-ch.htm

Album Review: Floodstain - Slave To The Self Feeding Machine

Floodstain are tough-talking Dutch metallers who, according to their website, were "spawn out of the dark bowels of a town nicknamed 'Hell', a place dominated by gray skies and endless rain, where boredom gets killed by vandalism, drugs and heavy sludge rock." On closer inspection they appear to have originated in Hellevoetsluis, a small village in Southern Holland, although they currently cite the sunny climes of Alfaz Del Pi, a peaceful resort in Costa Blanca, as their MySpace location. So I think we can take all this PR posturing with just a small pinch of salt (although we do love that "horns" cursor).

What we do have to take seriously is their colossal riff engine spewing angry, dark sludge into any spare lughole it can find. Jozz, the vocalist and, amazingly, lone guitarist, layers up his own outpourings to evoke Down's Phil Anselmo at his most vitriolic, whilst bassist Bobysan and drummer Vesso balloon out the bottom-end. They eagerly diversify the aggression to echo both the stoner wall of fuzz of Fu Manchu ('The Slumbering Titan Slayer') and the magnificent roar and balls-out grunt of High On Fire ('Suicide Pep Rally'). Despite all this early bluster they are clearly at their happiest when settling on the driving groove of Corrosion Of Conformity ('Ice Pick Lobotomy'), and sound oddly ineffective when the walking bass and softened build of the title-track take us on a more rocked-up, QOTSA-influenced path - the halfway drop-off into a heaving abyss of jerking, psychotic Pantera hat-doffing soon gets the party restarted.

There's sneaky touches of Sabbath-esque musicality to be found in 'Crooked Teeth' and 'The Slumbering Titan Slayer', that rise up from the deluge of riff-slinging, but they are merely fleeting and by the time you've finished the bad trip of the bonus track's anomalous radio static and sirens, these moments are long forgotten. I could spend all day name-checking bands that this reminds me of; there really is no trick here. If it's meaty and it rocks, Floodstain will amp it up to the eyeballs and beat it black and blue until it cries bloody tears. The liner-notes even see them paying homage to "Budweiser" - the supposed "king of beers". Their early material (they've been going at this for ten years now) was full of promise (do check out the awesome 'Asphalt Blues' on their MySpace) so instead of all these aforementioned influences, that clearly run deep, we'll be hoping for a little more of their own personalities next time around.

Also online @ MTUK = http://www.metalteamuk.net/oct10reviews/cdreviews-fs.htm

Album Review: Swashbuckle - Crime Always Pays

...You couldn't accuse 'Crime Always Pays' of being anything other than embedded in the world of eyepatches, poopdecks and talking parrots, but here the band have let loose some pretty nasty-looking demons. Like their first two albums, the song-titles alone ('Surf-N-Turf For Piratical Girth' is a particularly fine example) are enough to convince you of their commitment to the cause but, at the same time, they've ramped up the volume and, similarly, the production quality, not one but three notches, to produce a classy crossover sound that will have you banging your head until your tri-cornered hat falls off....

Full review = http://www.metalteamuk.net/sep10reviews/cdreviews-sb.htm

Album Review: Since Yesterday - The Artificial Truth

Blending metal rhythms and riffs with hardcore structures and sentiments, 'The Artificial Truth' comes blazing out of the traps at you. Opener, 'The Aftermath', is chock-a-block with fizzing shreds, warping sustain and flattened snare strikes, all topped off with an elaborate solo spot and a lacerated, acidic vocal. "Waiting for you / want to smash your face / count the teeth on the floor" - 'It Always Feels Good To Remove Scars' leaves little to chance in its lyrics, backing it up with an emotive chorus and a menacingly dark outro...

Full review = http://www.metalteamuk.net/aug10reviews/cdreviews-sinceyesterday.htm

Split EP Review: Fading Waves/Starchitect

Ukraine teams up with Russia for this 12-track split EP as a duo of dark sentimentalists, Starchitect from Kherson, take on a one-man band, Fading Waves from Rostov-On-Don. Surprisingly, there's actually more material here than you'll find on most albums, but then most post-rockers like nothing better than a damn good wheedle.

Fading Waves main provocateur Lex Maximuk is used to playing, programming, singing, engineering and mixing virtually every note you hear, but here he has brought in vocalist Alexey Morgunov and guitarist Artem Bat'kov to help him paint a torrid picture of modern living. Very much inspired by the bleak novels and poetry of Charles Bukowski, as well as the city he lives in, he goes to great lengths on 'Megapolis Depression' to pick wickedly bruised minor notes and repetitive loops to cast the gloom, following it up with an oppressive vocal scouring for 'Lights On Water'...

Full review = http://www.metalteamuk.net/july10reviews/cdreviews-fw.htm

Album Review: Loathe - Despondent By Design

...Whilst you'll tire of the incessantly skiddy 'This Respect' very quickly, 'Children Of A Lesser God' will absolutely rip your head off and spit down your throat; whilst the repetitious snare, see-sawing guitar hook and weak fade-out of 'This Overwhelming Grasp Of Solitude' will seem like a tipping point (it's quite possibly what the hopelessly weedy brother of Lamb Of God's 'The Faded Line' might sound like). 'The End Of All Things Good' will drag you back from the edge and hammer home just how seriously good this band can be when they peak...

Full review = http://www.metalteamuk.net/july10reviews/cdreviews-loathe.htm