Album Review: The Treatment – This Might Hurt (U.S. Release)

With Bermuda, The Contortionist and Periphery all releasing new albums in July, over the past few weeks I’ve been immersed in a world of mathematical metal, desperately trying to either decipher oblique lyrical threads, to latch onto layers submerged under evasive polyrhythmic changes, or to ride on the malleable back of some seriously intricate riffwork. Sometimes you just need to get away from all that calculus and sink your teeth into something that feels less computer and a lot more human. Like Florence Nightingale bursting in to save the day, loaded down with metaphorical bandages and imbued with one hell of a bedside manner, I give you the reassuringly familiar four-four beat-bothering, verse-chorus-verse antics of rock n’ roll classicists, The Treatment.

These UK boys, who happen to hail from in and around my neck of the woods in Cambridgeshire, were virtual unknowns a year ago. That all changed when they released their debut album on Powerage Records. One blink later and they’ve secured a frankly overwhelmingly important tour spot on the KISS / Motley Crüe U.S. merry-go round and have secured a deal with Spinefarm to release their debut, Stateside, for the first time to coincide. Having never heard the album before, and you’re going to have to take my word as an honest Limey for this, now seemed the perfect time to give it a spin.

From what I can pick out, having heard this through a few times, This Might Hurt, is roughly divided into two styles. On one hand there’s your blues-loaded swaggering grooves – “I Fear Nothing”, “Winter Sun” and “Stone Cold Love”. Here, the music echoes the sentiments and stylistic lilt of bands like The Answer, Thin Lizzy and Stone Gods – bands with a strong heart and plenty of ideas. In the other hand you’ve got your sing-a-longs, like “The Doctor”, “D***k F**k F***t”, “Shake The Mountain” and a cover of More’s “Road Rocket”, which should go down a treat with your average KISS and Motley Crüe fan. Being so chorus-geared, with plenty of emphasis on the builds, you get smacks of gang chanting and endless recycling of lyrics. These tracks pretty much speak for themselves – they’re catchy as fuck with plenty of gusto (braggadocio as the Italians say) and nary an innovative twist in sight.

My personal favorites come when they manage to meld both styles and come up with some Aerosmith meets Def Leppard smooth cruisers like “Lady Of The Light”, “I Will Be There”, and “Just Tell Me Why”. The slight vibrato and strong, coarse vocal that Matt Jones piles out on these beauties is immense. Combine that with music that is soaked in blues, dripping with feisty emotion and drenched in soul, and you have a team that I simply cannot wait to get in my car stereo. With these bad boys pumping out into the cool air, that night-time drive home will get a hell of a whole lot easier. Live the cliché, man!

Of course I must mention the little niggles. Sadly, the acoustic version here of “Just Tell Me Why” is rendered completely useless by its mismatched production values – in simple terms, the playing speed and vocal tone leave it feeling far too much like a tack-on. There’s no getting away, either, from the fact that a good chunk of the songs, and in particular “Nothing To Lose But Our Minds” (is it just me who hears “God Gave Rock n Roll To You”?), wear their influences a little too obviously, but neither can you deny that the foot you are surreptitiously tapping and the head you are subconsciously bobbing to those same songs aren’t factors here.

There are times when your little world just can’t handle any more extra complexity; at these points in time, simplicity is everything. In these moments you might just crave music like this. The Treatment’s songs do just what they say on the wrapper. They’re more sugary than a honey-dipped, Cornflake-encrusted Mars bar but they still r-o-c-k.

Alson online (with samples) @ The NewReview =  http://thenewreview.net/reviews/the-treatment-this-might-hurt-u-s-release

Album Review: Periphery – Periphery II: This Time It’s Personal

Meshuggah-worship comes in many forms. Front of the queue, bowl in hand, was a young Misha Mansoor. Naturally, he went on to start his personal project, Bulb, and form the band Periphery and the kind of math-heavy, palm-muted power chords that marked the band out as the djentleman who owe most to Fredrik Thordendal and company. Their eponymous debut album was bulging with jagged, heavy syncopation and angular battery fused with, first, the kind of yobbish yelps of derision that only seem to come from those whose vocal cords haven’t yet been fully broken in and, second, Spencer Sotelo’s whining cleans that turned so many potential fans away from the band.

Their follow-up is the cringingly-titled Periphery II: This Time It’s Personal. Yes, I thought it was a joke too. It’s a work that’s led me to wonder if, after their forthcoming concept release, Juggernaut, the next album will be called something equally tacky. Perhaps Periphery III: In Your Face or Periphery III: The Real Deal. Well, apparently the answer is “yes”. In a brief comment made by Mansoor recently, which includes the information that the lyrics in II actually reference III, their next album will be called the horrendously gimmicky Periphery III: Third Time’s A Charm. But, I digress.

This sophomore album sees the whole band taking on songwriting duties, as oppose to the one-man show of their debut, yet it still contains a number of reworked Bulb demos, so it’s a bit of a mixture and that does come across. As the title suggests it is, in general, less abrasive than their debut with much more of a melodic, colourful approach to tracks. The production values have been tightened a notch and the vocals have been thrust more to the forefront. Of course this brings Periphery into line with current trends for a more textured, ambient approach to the genre and the latter half of the album, especially, dangles its legs deep inside that concept. The first half is more of a patchwork quilt of chaos and order; battering groove and demonstrative lulls; hard-hitting roars and growls that dive into the kind of clean singing that is mostly pitched at the top-end – just the zone where Sotelo’s whine comes fully into play. Those who ducked for cover last time will be doing so once more.

The introductory posturing on “Muramasa”, for instance, is short and sickly sweet and quickly pitches us head-first into the crush barrier of “Have A Blast”. The spasmodic, mathy nature of the music here goes a long way to focussing our minds on the g-spots of each chorus and this pattern is followed deep into the album. A gnarly, pop-up electro-beat backed by reverb-heavy strings feeds into the jerky hammer of “Ji” and, at last, Sotelo rediscovers that tone that suits him best with some dark, throat-ripping growls and mid-range cleans. There’s a beautiful, cosmic wash lurking in the background here and some impressive stickwork from Matt Halpern that seeks to plug the gaps.

With other tracks creating gateways, like the hook-laden “Scarlet”, the chameleonic “Ragnarok” and the ambient layering and simplified structure of “Erised” sucking us in, and surprises such as the instrumental “Epoch” and all the craftily-integrated guest solos, the album stands a thousand times more accessible than their debut. Yet, there is far too much that simply passes by without ever finding its feet, and, ultimately, you’d really have to question if, at any point, Periphery hit the addictive bounce and lightness of touch that the most recent releases by Vildhjarta, Uneven Structure, Skyharbor and, even, Textures feature. All these albums simply hit harder and sink deeper into our psyches.

In the cold light of day, 14 tracks and 69 minutes (their debut topped 72 minutes) is a heck of a lot of material to wade through when so much of it ceases to shock and awe to anything like the degree that their debut so clearly did. But then, apparently, “this time it’s personal”, so perhaps we should allow them some leeway; some selfishness in their experimentation. Let no-one say you don’t get value for money with Periphery. Whatever the effect that this softening of the edges has had on their fanbase, they can be pretty proud of the fact that they’ve successfully managed to build another interesting level on their already solid foundation. We can only hope that, in the future, their talent for album titles remains so asymmetrically opposed to the quality of the material that lurks inside them.

Also online @ Ave Noctum =  http://www.avenoctum.com/2012/07/periphery-periphery-ii/

Album Review: All Shall Perish - This Is Where It Ends

Since their last album, All Shall Perish have parted ways with both guitarist Chris Storey and drummer Matt Kuykendall. A large couple of obstacles dumped on their road to stardom then, and just when they seemed to be building up an unstoppable head of steam. So often during these times of trouble the inevitable infusion of so much fresh blood can lead to a weakening of bonds and a blunting of edges. That certainly seemed to be the case early on when they claimed to be experiencing slow progress and subsequently lost one replacement. However, listening to this end result, now Francesco Artusato and Adam Pierce have come in and truly established themselves, they’ve clearly inspired the Californians to even greater heights.

From the first to the last, they absolutely grip it and rip it. This Is Where It Ends is intensely heavy, yet still coyly melodic in parts. The technicality is firing on all cylinders but a little of that exciting, experimental edge and rich layering that featured on Awaken The Dreamers has been left by the wayside. You see, you simply can’t define this band as deathcore and leave it at that. They pick and mix flavours from track-to-track like kids in a candy store. Sure, death and hardcore run through most of their work but there is also a distinct metal edge that hits tech, prog, groove, and thrash all at different times.

One thing is for certain, vocalist Hernan Hermida’s human-suit has split a seam; at times here he’s clearly flashing his green, reptilian skin beneath. C’mon, the man is quite clearly an alien being. No man or woman can make sounds as diverse, rough and bollock-janglingly heavy as these and get away with it. He’s right up there with all the other pink-painted, multi-organed, genii vocalists – Randy Blythe, Mitch Lucker, Guy Kozowyk, [insert your own particular favorites here]. Consider that and then know he repeatedly scowls “We are the dominant species!” during “The Death Plague”. His low, gargled, animal grunts are particularly powerful on tracks like “A Pure Evil” and “Royalty Into Exile” and his scouring pad squeals on “My Retaliation” are enough to turn your brain to mush – “I hope to see you fucking dieeee” – especially when he follows that up by showing off his full range.

The guitars so often split into these two distinct factions, both burble away along threaded arpeggios but one is firing out crisp high- and mid-range melody and the other is laying down dirty, low-end groove – there is a sublime example of this at 3:30 of “A Pure Evil”. They are also there blasting out speeding thrash for “Spineless”, “Embrace The Curse” and the magnificence of “The Past Will Haunt You” – which also features, by the way, an equally addictive barbed riff and pained roar of “How could we be so wroooong?” – oh, their audiences will love yelling that one, fists clenched, at the full moon. The drums are crushing – listen to “Rebirth” for a perfect cross-section of the various speeds and power that Pierce wields. On the downside, the album pacing does feel a tad lop-sided and there is perhaps a little too much of that spleen-slicing groove for my own personal taste, but I’m the sort to go misty-eyed during bits like the softly, softly acoustic outro to “Procession Of Ashes” or the orchestral intro to “In This Life Of Pain”.

Zach Ohren’s steady hand once again has been tasked with the production, and that continuity allows for nothing to dull the impact that the new boys have had. All Shall Perish are back with an album that can easily go toe-to-toe with The Price Of Existence – time will tell if this lasts as long in the memory as that little doozy. The road ahead seems to be straight and smooth once more, and if Hermida’s driving they’ll be once more heading for those glistening lights of the ASP mothership – we’re all doomed, I tells you, doooooomed!

Also online (with samples) @ The New Review = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/all-shall-perish-this-is-where-it-ends

Review Archive: Loyal Trooper - One Day All This Will Work Out

Self-produced and self-released, Loyal Trooper (AKA Andy Walker) seems prepared to trudge methodically on in his attempt to break into the public consciousness through the back door. With MySpace and YouTube now available he’s got as good a chance as any.

‘Division Street Blues’ is this EP’s class act, drawing comparison with the likes of Frank Turner. It’s upbeat, angst-fuelled and cutting - It follows on from the pace set by the opener ‘Nottingham Wasn‘t Built For Me‘. When things begin to get dark, as on ’Five Year Plan’ the lyrics, along with the music, can get a bit too heavy and cloying - “Will they ever get bored of being self-important pricks“, he hisses.

‘Okay At Best’ picks things back up, with a little help from his friends, and backing vocals and extra instrumentation give it plenty of layers into which to delve. The guitars have a pleasant twang to them and the pistoning drums sit strongly in the mix. To finish with the gentile, stripped-down ‘M1 To The A52’ is inspired. If Andy Walker really is a trooper, then he’s got every chance of success.