Live Review: A Day In The Life Of UK Tech-Fest 2014 – Newark Showground, 13/7/14

After the over-riding success of last year’s event, Tech-Fest returned bigger, bolder and brighter. This year saw the team take over the Newark Showground with its simple access to hangars for the stages, merch stands, bar and promoters. Not to mention the outbuildings for the loos, food facilities and adjacent closely-cropped field with running water for the campers. Of course the nearby run-off strip that allowed for parking was a bonus too. On the downside, and it is a downside. Once all the speaker stacks, assorted lighting rigs and accompanying band gear had been rolled into place it was immediately apparent that the stages themselves were too low, too tight and too far back from the barriers. Once those hangars started filling up, there was only ever going to be a clear line of sight for the first few rows. That was an unforgivable oversight and, word of warning, one that will undoubtedly impinge upon this review.

On the Sunday that Ave Noctum rolled up, tail between legs, it was apparent that plenty of other djentlemen had taken up the challenge with 800 camping tickets sold and 200 more walking in on day tickets. Of those punters that this reviewer encountered, there were plenty of happy faces with the majority of those dining out on the positives rather than dwelling on any perceived negatives. For most, this entire event was a simple godsend, being less about all that unwanted promotional garbage, unnecessary levels of security and ridiculous pricing that so afflicts the big name festivals. The fact that the bands that they loved were here playing their hearts out (not filling up the bottom support slots elsewhere), supporting each other and walking amongst their fans, was the only thing that really mattered to the attendees.

Thrown straight into the action, the first band up were Shields who, accompanied by stage two’s mad lighting set-up (hangar-flooding strobes and big strip lights burning holes in retinas throughout), tore into their set with energetic abandon. The heaps of echo on vocalist Joe Edwards was as much to do with the spacious metal hangar as whatever delay had been added through the sound-desk. Edwards and floppy-haired guitarist Sam Kubrick’s wild stage antics (one bouncing whilst snapping his neck violently, the other shooting himself in the chin with his fingers as he sprayed out water) deserved better than being met with bleary-eyes and folded arms but their hefty, inventive metalcore grooves certainly set heads gently nodding.

Aeolist lead vocalist Bradley Gallacher made great use of a flight-case to raise himself above the crowd. Sporting a network of tattoos and augmented lobes (one fashioned into a teardrop, the other boasting a huge tunnel), his slow prowl, lascivious leer and eyeballing of the crowd certainly loosened a few bowels. More so, the entire band’s utter abandonment to their post-rock noodling (closed eyes, heads bobbing, swaying gently) made each passage of scathing death vocal even more effective. Part-Contortionist, part-Between The Buried And Me, they certainly proved beyond doubt that they know a thing or two about the art of flow.

Featuring a Mikael Akerfeldt lookalike on vocals and bursting with NWOBHM and thrash-light tendencies, Aeon Zen seemed a little over-reliant on their introductory samples to get each song going but when they hit their stride there was plenty of warm, soft ambient keys courtesy of Tom Green. Sadly, it all felt a little tacked together and considering the fact that they were deemed strong enough to tour with the great Devin Townsend, that’s somewhat of a disappointment.

Saving the day (replacing Destiny Potato who had to pull out), Exist Immortal over on stage one absolutely nailed it. Their death-heavy tech fired up the slowly-massing crowd into a bout of fist-pumping and frontman Meyrick de la Fuente made certain we reached a peak of frenzy for the big hit “Edge Of Infinity” from their debut full-length. With all that hair flying about it was hard not to buy into each and every swirling, hammering groove.

Italy’s Destrage were an utterly manic burst of colour. No matter which genre you tried to stick them in (melodeath / metalcore / progressive metal) these Italians had a way of breaking free. Thanks to all the samples and a vast, floor-shaking bass drum, it sounded more like Rage Against The Machine were playing Nintendo against Dragonforce. Utterly bonkers from beginning to end. You had guitarist Matteo Di Gioia looking like Ali G, sporting a black beard, blonde crop, knee-length socks and a spasming body and singer/rapper Paolo Colavolpe tearing into the first few rows to deliver his invective in torrents.

As Chicago trio Alaya hit stage one, everything changed. So accomplished, tight and superbly emotive were they, that there was an instantaneous sense that the thrilling mayhem of the support acts had ended and the assured pomp of the headliners had begun. With stonkers like “Grace”, “Sleep” and “Poor Gloria” threading their way through the minds and mouths of the crowd, the soft floating cascades and arpeggios that surrounded the infectious choruses hit home and moved heads. With such little material to choose from there was a tendency for a mid-set slackening of impact, but with frontman Evan Graham Dunn literally bubbling over with enthusiasm (“We’re having the time of our lives at this festival. It’s been worth every dollar and every mile”) it was easy to become completely immersed in the performance.

Having left bereft guitarist Chris Purvis behind, Friend For A Foe  made sure they paid due tribute and enjoyed the moment. After losing Chris Barreto to Monuments we were blessed with multiple vocalists tonight with regular leggy blonde Max Curnow taking the lead role. The alternate blonde, Nikki Simmons (Drewsif Stalin), played a superb cameo skipping her way into the crowd before cheerfully ending with a “Thank-you for letting me party with you guys”. The pumped-up guitarists were soon in with us too and Curnow quickly followed, fighting his way into the crowd only to sink to his knees to scream his heart out. There was a bit of mic trouble and a few holes in the sound but their infectious energy made for compulsive viewing.

Aliases were able to laugh away stage two’s continuing “technical fuck-ups” by offering the crowd plenty of foot-on-amp posturing as Pin (ex-SikTh) and Leah Woodward hammered away at their guitars. It all made for a blindingly intense experience, both sonically and visually (those strobes again).

With a shift back to the main stage, there was a sudden sense of abandon, the pit properly began to kick-off and it was all due to those happy-go-lucky Eggheads The Safety Fire (9/10). Each of their firecracker numbers like “Old Souls” and “Mouth Of Swords” sparked a new bout of bouncing bodies as fists punched the sky. Amongst it all one overzealous fan was manhandled from the venue (never a pleasant side) by some pretty heavy-handed security who seemed desperate to calm the fervour. The taped segues brought a certain element of calm to proceedings but those titans of scrambling tech had their moment of genius to blow our minds and the high-pitched climax of “Beware The Leopard (Jagwar)” was it as vocalist Sean McWeeney hit that insane top-note.

The Ocean were restricted a little by their surroundings. Undoubtedly, that pesky sun peeking through the roof and the downsized stage set didn’t allow for complete immersion in their moody masterpiece Pelagial. They still made a fist of it though with the lighting crew doing a grand job of throwing blues and purple spots down at them. There was also a scattering of interesting filaments shining out from on stage and their enigmatic ocean blue bubble-boards offered a visual piece of the puzzle to connect to. Without the band backlit and the enigmatic video to fall back on though (something that so powered their own intimate tour performances) the show lacked the necessary impact. However, this being Tech-Fest we did get a robot dancing in the crowd so it wasn’t all a wash-out! The joys of those soft builds and the deep, scarring, all-encompassing vocal attack of Loïc Rossetti was immense. Time and again, he ran forward to scream into the faces of his adoring fans. Robin Staps was equally monstrous as with head hung he hammered out the doomy strains of the emotional “Bathyalpelagic II”. Against all the odds, they’d only gone and left us dazed and confused once more.

With UK progressive metal godfathers SikTh reforming and headlining here, you could forgive the venue for packing them in until catching a glimpse of the band became a matter of Darwinian theory. The stronger and more determined won out leaving this old sod with little to view but a red glow and the occasional choice bobbing of Mikee Goodman’s dread-covered head as he mounted the barrier. What was heard was more than enough to inspire. Referring to the mayhem before him, Goodman’s satisfied cry of “Having been gone seven years you don’t expect this kind of shit” said it all. You only had to know how much this all meant to the crowd from the reverential chanting that emerged from every mouth in the venue as “When Will The Forest Speak…?” rung out. With Goodman leading them like some deranged puppeteer the whole gig became an utterly cathartic experience. A place of worship – where else would a chant for the festival organiser kick off? Yet here we were hearing “Si-mon, Si-mon” spinning round the hangar. Mr. Garrod must have shed a tear, this event being a real labour of love for him. Like the fans, he too must have been in his element as “Sanguine Seas Of Bigotry” kicked the conveyor belt of crowdsurfers off. Sadly, as “Wait For Something Wild” left us with jaws agape this reviewer had to tear himself away.

Old Father Time is such a cruel master, but even he might have moshed a little that night that SikTh preached to their disciples once more.

Festival Website = http://uktechfest.com
This review also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/07/uk-tech-fest-newark-showground-13714/

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: 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

EP Review: I, Inside - Mental Exhibition

Sucking lazily upon the fumes of Metallica, this Belgian quartet plunder their heroes thrash and groove, disappointingly turning it into bit of a chore. Behind a wall of volume, there seems to be very little variation to the tracks, one wandering aimlessly into another. There is a distinct lack of bite and there aren't exactly any hooks to cling onto to. A lot of it is just two-chord faffing around. All sounds pretty damning but there is an occasional flash of inspiration. The artwork is pretty neat, for one. Also, the bass blast that steps in around the 1:45 mark of 'Verdrängtes Trauma' is pretty worthy, and the vocal occasionally finds an impressive guttural edge for 'Moral Midgetry' - yes, I'm really grasping at straws here. The trouble is you simply have to concentrate too hard on blocking out the biggest weakness that this EP exudes - the production.

All hail their attempts for, presumably, digging this out without assistance, but it just hasn't paid off. The dull, lifeless thud of the solitary cowbell lurking inside 'Liquid Recollection' pretty much sums up the kind of contrast between hissing top-end and thick, sludgy bottom-end - I see big black boots and a bobble-head but where's the body? The drums are particularly paper-thin, sounding ridiculously clipped next to the incessant grunt that the guitar chugs offer. Throw on a vocal that sits about thirty feet back from everything else and you've just got this grotty mess that is never going to showcase the band's nascent talent for digging out a groove.

This opaque mess continues right through until 'Turbid Shape' opens out and starts revealing slow, delicately plucked open chords. The undulating nature of it is a bit of a revelation, as it proves the band are prepared to blossom out into more than just one-dimensional grunt. Vocalist Kris' last verse is delivered with real menace behind a flux of dark, minor chords - "He has no face / he has no shadow".

I guess, sometimes what's on the cover just doesn't match the innards. No matter how much I try and constructively criticise this beast, it's always going to end up sounding pretty ugly. I honestly believe 'Mental Exhibition' isn't a great example of what this band are actually capable of. They need to put this behind them and come at us again with a more solid, fine-tuned attack.

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

Gig Review: The Chariot - Rock City, Nottingham 19/3/11

Day three of the latest Chariot European tour, which itself is wedged in between their travails around North America and Australia. This is, clearly, one of the hardest working live acts out there so, although it’s still a privilege to witness them tear Rock City a new ass, the evening has this nagging air of inevitability about it. Me, them, bedlam. I’ll throw the horns at that.

Tonight, we are invaded by painted Vikings with plastic swords as the venue pits two tours against each other. Upstairs in the larger room we have Crimfall and Turisas, the latter sounding oddly lacklustre without accordion-player Netta Skog but still well supported. Down in the dirty basement lurk the fiery hardcore kids who’ve come to see MyChildren MyBride and The Chariot. The former were certainly sounding pretty fucking heavy as I sat and tried to interview Chariot vocalist Josh Scogin over the mayhem, but now it’s later and we’re both stage-side watching bassist Jon ‘Wolf’ Kindler and drummer David Kennedy go through a series of warm-up exercises.

It’s the very first note in anger that we truly realise what we’re in for here. With stunned faces all around me, I watch as ‘Wolf’ turns and hurls his bass into the crowd, following it in to retrieve it just moments later. In all my years of gig-going, I’ve never seen someone do that on the first note. There wasn’t even a proper pit formed yet! From that point on, anything goes. The show becomes an absolute free-for-all and that’s just the way The Chariot like it.

Describing this quintet’s music to a casual observer would be tough but (and please excuse my inexact grasp on the subject) I’d go for the words: Chaos theory. It’s exactly that. Sonically, on occasions, everything all hooks up and you can get a good neck workout, but the component parts (the periodic orbits if you will) all immediately split and go there separate ways just as quickly as they all came together and chaos ensues again. Visually, it’s exactly the same. There are moments when they are all face-front, hammering out their destructively cantankerous hardcore as a unit, but then one-by-one they all turn and start scaling furniture, jumping up wildly, yanking at their respective instruments, falling over. Chaos.

Two minutes later and the first mic has gone – torn from its lead and discarded. Scogin grabs hold of the backing mic, screams bloody murder into it until the drums cave and the guitars dig in, at which point he lobs it to the ground like it’s wronged him in a past life. “David De La Hoz” fires up and he frantically retrieves it only to loft it over the metal ducting above and swing it back and forth whilst he bellows into it with each pass. All around him, the rest of the band show similar disdain for their beloved equipment. More evidence of a life spent on the road. ‘Wolf’s bass, in particular, looks like it’s been stripped of its paint which, considering how often it goes over the barrier, is no surprise.

Kennedy is suddenly up and kneeling on his drumstool; his adjusted action bringing his elbows up high around his ears. A glance to the right and the seemingly omnipresent ‘Wolf’ has mounted the bar whilst below him Brandon Henderson is yanking his guitar up and down, back and forth; hurling himself into impossible shapes. Out front, the pit is small but violent, encouraged by Scogin’s exhortations that “tonight is all about being free” and how their new album, Long Live, is “a tribute to them”. Every now and then fans, some with cameras, begin to find the courage to join the band on stage, one lingering too long before an utterly overwhelmed member of security takes a small, pensive step forwards.

With an Orange amp either side of the drumkit (the bass sound tonight is mighty) there are several moments when it feels like the shockwaves may lift you off your feet. ‘Wolf’ is certainly enjoying it from his lofty perch on top of the speakers, freaking us out as he considers dangling from the glitterball overhead. A brief pause gives Scogin the chance to step front and centre and stare us down. “This has been my favourite show of the tour so far”, he says with a wry smile knowing that it’s only their third date. And with the line “from the first day of the tour people have been shouting for this song” we are thrust into the spasmodic heart of “Yanni Depp” – “NOVOCAINE!” we yell in unison and the huge, heaving breakdown is met by punching fists and flying feet.

By the end, the venue is laid to waste, the audience are ashen-faced and sweat-slicked from their efforts, the floor is littered with broken items, parts of the roof hang loose, an expensive-looking camera has taken a battering, clothing has been discarded at the corners and there, in the centre of the stage lies a mangled and lifeless microphone. All are symbolic of tonight’s wonderful, joyous, brilliant chaos.

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/show-reviews/the-chariot-nottingham-uk

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: 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