By Dave
The Dillinger Escape Plan (DEP) is the most intense band I have ever heard anywhere period. They are an inaccessible, yet incredibly engaging force, melding the desperate fury of bands such as the Bad Brains and Minor Threat with the chaotic time signatures and chord voicings of progressive musicians such as King Crimson, Voivod and the jazz pianist Cecil Taylor.
I'm going to try to put into words the sonic attack which is the latest release from the originators of the math metal genre and will probably fail. The standard elements of DEP's style are all laid out in heavy strokes. The drumming is incredibly explosive and to the uninitiated chaotic and frenzied, yet to the more dedicated listener carefully calculated and full of creative nuance. The guitars frantically zig and zag across the stereo field relentlessly tearing through odd chord voicings and lightning fast lead fills at a level of speed and precision that seems nearly inhuman. The vocals have a nice range moving from larynx shredding screams to sarcastic snarls and actually, some very nice melodic harmonies. Some how the bass holds everything together very tastefully.
The thing that really impressed about Option Paralysis is the way DEP has been able to reign in some of the fury and actually write some really catchy music interspersed between blasts of mind bending thrash/jazz brutality. Songs such as “Widower” and “Chinese Whispers” really draw me in as a listener with memorable riffs and catchy hooks and then build up the intensity to a nearly unbearable level. I think these lyrics from Chinese Whispers lay things out pretty well: “Every second is passing by so fast /Everything that you cling to will not last/There's your chemical weapon made from all your broken dreams”.
Despite the overall chaotic nature of the Dillinger Escape Plan's style I'd say this is one of the more focused efforts I've heard from them. Really the album has two faces to it that it seems to jump back and forth between in a very sporadic manner. They go from solid catchy classic hard rock and modern ambiance to manic progressive blast beat fury at the drop of a hat. For a lot of people this would probably be a pretty disconcerting listen. I think most DEP fans are into something a bit more uncompromising and challenging. If you aren't acquainted with this band I'd recommend at least downloading the song Chinese Whispers as a more accessible introduction to one of the most creative
metal bands to come out in a long time.
Using Jimmy's time honored scale of 1 to 10 minutes in reference to the auto erotic pleasure produced by this album I'll give 8.0 minutes.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Sam Quinn, The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships (Ramseur Records, 2010)
By SoDak
I love disfiguring facial hair, especially unruly beards that take on a life of their own. The last several times that I saw Sam Quinn in concert, his bread was scraggly and seemed to be consuming him. If his bangs were long enough to cover his face, Sam could enter a Cousin It contest. Behind the tray on his debut “solo” record, there is a wonderful picture of Sam and his beard—such a beard deserves to be recognized as a separate entity, especially when its mass might be more than the skinny body to which it is attached. Needless to say, Sam’s willingness to let the beard do whatever the fuck it wants for so long impresses me. In the same spirit, Sam creates music that is fiercely honest and independent.
For over five years, Sam played in the Everybodyfields with Jill Andrews. I was fortunate enough to see them six times in Oregon and once in North Carolina. I loved the dynamic between them, as they traded lead vocals on songs and as they passed the bass and acoustic guitar back and forth. On Valentine’s Day, at a show at the Axe and Fiddle in Cottage Grove, OR, they broke our hearts with songs of sorrow, while making us laugh between songs with their light-hearted banter. On Halloween, at a show at Cat’s Cradle in Carrboro, NC, the whole band was in costume, adding to the humor between songs. All three of their records are wonderful. I was eagerly anticipating a new record from them, as they had become one of favorite artists, on a seemingly endless list. But Jill and Sam decided to go separate ways. Fortunately both of them have recently put out top-notch recordings. The way that I see it, the more music I have by them the better.
On Sam’s myspace page, several videos were posted, sharing new songs, building excitement of a new release. On days that I felt more mellow than usual, I would go to his site and just play the video for the song “Hello” over and over again. Like most of his songs, there is a persistent sorrow and loneliness. But there is also comfort. Something in his voice soothes the heart. “Hello” is the first song on The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships. For me, this was a perfect choice. My only complaint is that the version on the record is a minute shorter than the video online and over a minute shorter than the early demo on myspace (in the jukebox). I had become accustomed to the longer versions of this song, as I love the space that the song creates. But this is a minor issue. “Fanboy” (the second song) is a haunting song infused with pain: “I never needed anyone except myself.” The sadness swirls throughout the song, “of the things I didn’t do.” Relationships and time are lost along the way. A fiddle touches the heart at the right moments. “I would give anything just to be there.” In the end, Sam states, “I’m the one waiting.”
Different versions of the songs “Suite Motown” (song four) and “Strange Wave” (song five) were previously available online, at the Daytrotter website, as a new Everybodyfields songs. I was pleased that both songs appear on this collection. “Suite Motown” is a catchy song and bounces along, with some wonderful pedal steel playing on it. Damn, I just got lost in the music. It is two in the morning, I keep turning the volume up, as Sam’s voice whispers, occasionally cracks, from the speakers “I’m your gun and I’m loaded baby. I could kill you tonight. I never thought I would hurt you like I hurt you. I can’t get you out of my sight.” The song “Gun” concludes, “I kill myself a little every night.” The following song, “Help Me,” features great backup vocals from Josh Oliver and Megan Gregory, who also play piano and fiddle on this song. Sam sings, “Will you help me?” Josh and Megan answer, “I can’t this time.” Down on the ground, Sam sings, “And I’m tryin to give up the hope for a ghost that can save me?” Disappointment and failure pervade these songs. There is something so fuckin’ real about these feelings, I hit the button to play the song one more time. Once I am inside these songs, I feel myself letting go to explore memories and feelings too often ignored.
Recently, I saw a new video of Jill and Sam playing together, covering Lucinda Williams’s “Something Happens When We Talk.” Sam’s beard was gone, but big, bushy sideburns remained, along with a moustache. It was good to see and hear them singing together again. Several years ago, when I was hiking at Crater Lake, I had a nice conversation with a Harley biker, who had a beard that was at least a foot past his waist. He said that he hadn’t trimmed his beard in thirty-five years. While Sam’s disfiguring beard is no more, at least for the time being, I hope that he continues to release such outstanding music for at least four more decades.
The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships is a great album. But it might be one that you listen to alone or on a long drive on an open road that gives you time to immerse yourself in introspection.
I love disfiguring facial hair, especially unruly beards that take on a life of their own. The last several times that I saw Sam Quinn in concert, his bread was scraggly and seemed to be consuming him. If his bangs were long enough to cover his face, Sam could enter a Cousin It contest. Behind the tray on his debut “solo” record, there is a wonderful picture of Sam and his beard—such a beard deserves to be recognized as a separate entity, especially when its mass might be more than the skinny body to which it is attached. Needless to say, Sam’s willingness to let the beard do whatever the fuck it wants for so long impresses me. In the same spirit, Sam creates music that is fiercely honest and independent.
For over five years, Sam played in the Everybodyfields with Jill Andrews. I was fortunate enough to see them six times in Oregon and once in North Carolina. I loved the dynamic between them, as they traded lead vocals on songs and as they passed the bass and acoustic guitar back and forth. On Valentine’s Day, at a show at the Axe and Fiddle in Cottage Grove, OR, they broke our hearts with songs of sorrow, while making us laugh between songs with their light-hearted banter. On Halloween, at a show at Cat’s Cradle in Carrboro, NC, the whole band was in costume, adding to the humor between songs. All three of their records are wonderful. I was eagerly anticipating a new record from them, as they had become one of favorite artists, on a seemingly endless list. But Jill and Sam decided to go separate ways. Fortunately both of them have recently put out top-notch recordings. The way that I see it, the more music I have by them the better.
On Sam’s myspace page, several videos were posted, sharing new songs, building excitement of a new release. On days that I felt more mellow than usual, I would go to his site and just play the video for the song “Hello” over and over again. Like most of his songs, there is a persistent sorrow and loneliness. But there is also comfort. Something in his voice soothes the heart. “Hello” is the first song on The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships. For me, this was a perfect choice. My only complaint is that the version on the record is a minute shorter than the video online and over a minute shorter than the early demo on myspace (in the jukebox). I had become accustomed to the longer versions of this song, as I love the space that the song creates. But this is a minor issue. “Fanboy” (the second song) is a haunting song infused with pain: “I never needed anyone except myself.” The sadness swirls throughout the song, “of the things I didn’t do.” Relationships and time are lost along the way. A fiddle touches the heart at the right moments. “I would give anything just to be there.” In the end, Sam states, “I’m the one waiting.”
Different versions of the songs “Suite Motown” (song four) and “Strange Wave” (song five) were previously available online, at the Daytrotter website, as a new Everybodyfields songs. I was pleased that both songs appear on this collection. “Suite Motown” is a catchy song and bounces along, with some wonderful pedal steel playing on it. Damn, I just got lost in the music. It is two in the morning, I keep turning the volume up, as Sam’s voice whispers, occasionally cracks, from the speakers “I’m your gun and I’m loaded baby. I could kill you tonight. I never thought I would hurt you like I hurt you. I can’t get you out of my sight.” The song “Gun” concludes, “I kill myself a little every night.” The following song, “Help Me,” features great backup vocals from Josh Oliver and Megan Gregory, who also play piano and fiddle on this song. Sam sings, “Will you help me?” Josh and Megan answer, “I can’t this time.” Down on the ground, Sam sings, “And I’m tryin to give up the hope for a ghost that can save me?” Disappointment and failure pervade these songs. There is something so fuckin’ real about these feelings, I hit the button to play the song one more time. Once I am inside these songs, I feel myself letting go to explore memories and feelings too often ignored.
Recently, I saw a new video of Jill and Sam playing together, covering Lucinda Williams’s “Something Happens When We Talk.” Sam’s beard was gone, but big, bushy sideburns remained, along with a moustache. It was good to see and hear them singing together again. Several years ago, when I was hiking at Crater Lake, I had a nice conversation with a Harley biker, who had a beard that was at least a foot past his waist. He said that he hadn’t trimmed his beard in thirty-five years. While Sam’s disfiguring beard is no more, at least for the time being, I hope that he continues to release such outstanding music for at least four more decades.
The Fake that Sunk a Thousand Ships is a great album. But it might be one that you listen to alone or on a long drive on an open road that gives you time to immerse yourself in introspection.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Grim Reaper, See You in Hell / Fear No Evil (RCA,1984/1985; Collectables, 1998)
By Class Warrior
I’m a big sucker for male vocalists with a multi-octave range, especially when they can really hit those high notes. Rob Halford is the prototypical metal frontman with a wide range. If you haven’t done so before, listen to Judas Priest’s early albums. Both Sad Wings of Destiny and Sin After Sin feature some outstanding vocal work. When Rob screams “Victim of Changes” at the end of that song, like someone’s squeezing his nuts with a pair of pliers, tingles run up and down my spine. Similarly, when Bruce Dickinson lets loose his howl from Hell about a minute into “The Number of the Beast,” I stop whatever I’m doing and put two fists in the air.
I get the same feeling when I hear the vocals of Grim Reaper’s singer Steve Grimmett when he sings “See You in Hell”. Yes, I’m comparing him to Halford and Dickinson. You’ll get no apology from me! What has led me to make this apocryphal announcement? For one thing, Grimmett screams like a medieval warrior storming a castle who has had boiling oil poured on him from above. In other words, his high range is excellent.
Whenever I play this album, I have to sing along to the song “See You in Hell.” If anyone were listening, they would be treated to my feeble attempts to hit the high notes along with Grimmett. The song is perfect: great chorus, hooks as catchy as norovirus on a cruise ship, fucking awesome lyrics about…well…taking someone down to hell, and the aforementioned excellent vocal work by Grimmett. There’s not much of a solo, but I don’t worship at the feet of the guitar gods, so that doesn’t bother me. Something becomes very clear to me as I listen to this song: Satan was looking over Grim Reaper’s shoulders and nodding in approval when they wrote this tune. Fuck, this is a great song!
The rest of the See You in Hell album is solid (with the exception of “The Show Must Go On,” a long, tedious ballad). It’s filled up with high-quality metal tunes. Nothing, however, is on the level of the title track. “Wrath of the Ripper,” “All Hell Let Loose,” “Run for Your Life,” and “Now or Never” are the songs that stand out, with “Ripper” being a minor classic in the Warrior household. However, the title track is so awesome that I want to be perfectly clear on one point: if the rest of the album were as good as “See You in Hell,” we would be talking about this album in the same breath as British Steel, The Number of the Beast, and Paranoid. It’s that fucking good. One of the five best metal songs ever, in my opinion. It may just be my favorite. Alas, Grim Reaper’s first album is a bit of a letdown after the almost impossibly high level set by the first song.
I wish that Grimmett would use his voice to greater effect on this album. If you have the ability to sing in a high octave, you should do so more often. I’m not saying that he should have sung every song under threat of castration, but in more of a Rob Halford style. Rob, at least in early and mid period Judas Priest, sang low, medium, and high in the same song. Listen to the aforementioned “Victim of Changes” for an example. It sounds great. Most of the Grim Reaper songs have only mid-range vocals. The ones that are more varied, such as the title song and “Run For Your Life,” are the strongest tracks.
Fear No Evil isn’t quite at the level of See You in Hell. As with the first album, Grim Reaper placed their strongest song (the title track) at the beginning, then put a collection of lesser songs behind it. Same formula, but the quality is down a notch this time. The tunes aren’t quite as catchy and riffs don’t grab the listener as easily. Make no mistake, though, it’s still a good record, aside from the embarrassing spoken word intro to “Final Scream.” Not sure what they were thinking there, but it didn’t work!
One last thing about this album: the video for “Fear No Evil” is truly great. It, more than anything else I have encountered, captures perfectly how I have always envisioned heavy metal. It is the definition of heavy metal’s aural and visual aesthetic. It’s hard to describe – you should just watch it. Usually I don’t like music videos, but this one is brilliant. Search for this video on Youtube – you will be rewarded with a metallic feast for ears and eyes.
Speaking of a feast for the eyes, Grim Reaper isn’t it. The members constitute one of the ugliest bands to have ever existed. Grim Reaper could not exist today because of their lack of looks. They could not have been mainstream successes in the 1980s because they came nowhere close to looking glam. They are, in fact, the anti-glam. In an earlier review, Jimmy brought up SoDak’s theory of ugly bands rocking the hardest; Grim Reaper provides strong proof of this theory’s validity. Watch the “Fear No Evil” video and you’ll see what I mean.
These two albums are available on one CD from a company named Collectables (sic). See You in Hell receives eight and a half gore-encrusted swords, while Fear No Evil earns seven bloody blades. If you like solid traditional heavy metal, you will enjoy these albums. The song “See You in Hell” and the video for “Fear No Evil” receive the absolute highest marks I can bestow upon a metal performance: TEN bloody swords raised in TRIUMPH! Hail Satan!
See you in Hell, my friend.
I’m a big sucker for male vocalists with a multi-octave range, especially when they can really hit those high notes. Rob Halford is the prototypical metal frontman with a wide range. If you haven’t done so before, listen to Judas Priest’s early albums. Both Sad Wings of Destiny and Sin After Sin feature some outstanding vocal work. When Rob screams “Victim of Changes” at the end of that song, like someone’s squeezing his nuts with a pair of pliers, tingles run up and down my spine. Similarly, when Bruce Dickinson lets loose his howl from Hell about a minute into “The Number of the Beast,” I stop whatever I’m doing and put two fists in the air.
I get the same feeling when I hear the vocals of Grim Reaper’s singer Steve Grimmett when he sings “See You in Hell”. Yes, I’m comparing him to Halford and Dickinson. You’ll get no apology from me! What has led me to make this apocryphal announcement? For one thing, Grimmett screams like a medieval warrior storming a castle who has had boiling oil poured on him from above. In other words, his high range is excellent.
Whenever I play this album, I have to sing along to the song “See You in Hell.” If anyone were listening, they would be treated to my feeble attempts to hit the high notes along with Grimmett. The song is perfect: great chorus, hooks as catchy as norovirus on a cruise ship, fucking awesome lyrics about…well…taking someone down to hell, and the aforementioned excellent vocal work by Grimmett. There’s not much of a solo, but I don’t worship at the feet of the guitar gods, so that doesn’t bother me. Something becomes very clear to me as I listen to this song: Satan was looking over Grim Reaper’s shoulders and nodding in approval when they wrote this tune. Fuck, this is a great song!
The rest of the See You in Hell album is solid (with the exception of “The Show Must Go On,” a long, tedious ballad). It’s filled up with high-quality metal tunes. Nothing, however, is on the level of the title track. “Wrath of the Ripper,” “All Hell Let Loose,” “Run for Your Life,” and “Now or Never” are the songs that stand out, with “Ripper” being a minor classic in the Warrior household. However, the title track is so awesome that I want to be perfectly clear on one point: if the rest of the album were as good as “See You in Hell,” we would be talking about this album in the same breath as British Steel, The Number of the Beast, and Paranoid. It’s that fucking good. One of the five best metal songs ever, in my opinion. It may just be my favorite. Alas, Grim Reaper’s first album is a bit of a letdown after the almost impossibly high level set by the first song.
I wish that Grimmett would use his voice to greater effect on this album. If you have the ability to sing in a high octave, you should do so more often. I’m not saying that he should have sung every song under threat of castration, but in more of a Rob Halford style. Rob, at least in early and mid period Judas Priest, sang low, medium, and high in the same song. Listen to the aforementioned “Victim of Changes” for an example. It sounds great. Most of the Grim Reaper songs have only mid-range vocals. The ones that are more varied, such as the title song and “Run For Your Life,” are the strongest tracks.
Fear No Evil isn’t quite at the level of See You in Hell. As with the first album, Grim Reaper placed their strongest song (the title track) at the beginning, then put a collection of lesser songs behind it. Same formula, but the quality is down a notch this time. The tunes aren’t quite as catchy and riffs don’t grab the listener as easily. Make no mistake, though, it’s still a good record, aside from the embarrassing spoken word intro to “Final Scream.” Not sure what they were thinking there, but it didn’t work!
One last thing about this album: the video for “Fear No Evil” is truly great. It, more than anything else I have encountered, captures perfectly how I have always envisioned heavy metal. It is the definition of heavy metal’s aural and visual aesthetic. It’s hard to describe – you should just watch it. Usually I don’t like music videos, but this one is brilliant. Search for this video on Youtube – you will be rewarded with a metallic feast for ears and eyes.
Speaking of a feast for the eyes, Grim Reaper isn’t it. The members constitute one of the ugliest bands to have ever existed. Grim Reaper could not exist today because of their lack of looks. They could not have been mainstream successes in the 1980s because they came nowhere close to looking glam. They are, in fact, the anti-glam. In an earlier review, Jimmy brought up SoDak’s theory of ugly bands rocking the hardest; Grim Reaper provides strong proof of this theory’s validity. Watch the “Fear No Evil” video and you’ll see what I mean.
These two albums are available on one CD from a company named Collectables (sic). See You in Hell receives eight and a half gore-encrusted swords, while Fear No Evil earns seven bloody blades. If you like solid traditional heavy metal, you will enjoy these albums. The song “See You in Hell” and the video for “Fear No Evil” receive the absolute highest marks I can bestow upon a metal performance: TEN bloody swords raised in TRIUMPH! Hail Satan!
See you in Hell, my friend.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Wilco, Wilco (The Album) (Nonesuch Records, 2009)
By SoDak
Not too long ago, I was in Chicago O’Hare International Airport. After a long flight, a mighty dump was imminent. Much to my surprise, in the men’s bathroom, I confronted a high-tech toilet. The seat was covered in plastic. A button triggered a mechanism that was supposed to rotate the covering, so clean, fresh plastic would cover the seat, while the previously sat on material would collect inside the contraption on the back of the seat. No more paper covers for the toilet. I can imagine critics marveling at this technology, praising the innovation in the water closet. Each part of the modern toilet was finely constructed, working together to create something special for restrooms—a sterile environment.
But not everything works as smoothly as engineers would like. I noticed that the plastic was slightly bunched up at one end. The previous occupant was kind enough to piss all over the plastic. In addition to this, pieces of shit were scattered on the covering. Preferring different seating, I stepped out of the stall. The other two doors were closed, leaving me with no option. I returned to the mess, pressed the button. New plastic emerged from the right, but the collection on the left malfunctioned. The plastic continued to bunch, folding in on itself in various ways, creating a bigger mess. The piss was spread all over and dripped from the edges. The shit smeared on the actual toilet as the motor continued to try to pull the plastic through the slot into the collection device. With increasing internal pressure mounting, I watched my predicament go from bad to worse. I feared that I would not be able to walk to another bathroom without a brown incident.
I stood there, in place, contemplating how often things do not work out. A band may be comprised of amazing musicians, but together produce music that does not excite me. Record after record, I faithfully return, hoping that something will. I seem to be alone here, as the applause, like this malfunctioning toilet is deafening. But when it doesn’t work, and is covered in piss and shit, I must finally decide to walk away—from this stall covered in feces. As I clenched and prepared for my trek to find sweet release, an empty chorus ran through my head: “Oh, oh, oh, oh, Wilco, Wilco, Wilco will love you baby.”
Danava, Unonou
Label: http://www.kemado.com/artists.php?req=show&artist=11
By Jimmy "Explosive Diarrhea" B
This review and the Paranaut Review that follow were originally posted at a now mostly defunct music review website Dave, the FJWM, set up.
Tracks:
- Unonou
- Where Beauty and Terror Dance
- The Emerald Snow of Sleep
- A High or a Low
- Spinning Temple Shifting
- Down From a Cloud, Up From The Ground
- One Mind Gone Separate Ways
The Fucking Jedi Webmaster (hereafter known as the FJWM) in his finite wisdom asked me to review the mighty Danava’s sophomore effort. But the FJWM forgot to give me a rating format. I kicked around numerous rating schemes, from such classics as thumbs up/down or number of horns in the air. I decided to go with something more traditional; my rating system will consist of a one to ten scale. It’s boring - but wait - don’t judge this humble reviewer as a bandwagon jumper. For my reviews, and I hope all reviews on the FJWM’s website, the numbers represent minutes I touched myself while listening to the album under review. It seems that a rating of one would be the best, since a more exciting album means that I conclude my review and tossing off double quick. But my friends, I believe that a good record, like rubbing one off, should be prolonged and enjoyed. Therefore a ten is the best any album can get, since I can’t possibly prolong things any longer than that.
While poking around on the Internet trying to find out a little bit of background information on Danava I found their record label, Kemado, who has signed some very impressive bands, such as The Sword, Priestbird, and Dungen, bands that should be know to any fans of stoner rock. Danava I predict will surpass their label mates in short order.
The inevitable questions that everyone wants to know from a review are who do they sound like, and what style of music do they play. Unfortunately, neither of these questions have obvious answers. When I listen to Unonou I hear Black Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult, Hawkwind, Thin Lizzy and many of the NWOBHM bands from the eighties. Danava’s vocalist, Dusty Sparkles, sounds a lot like Witch’s Kyle Thomas and Steve Henessey of Sheavy. But none of these comparisons really mean anything. Danava’s sound, I believe, can be best described as retro psychedelic stoner rock with a progressive twist. But who the fuck cares, all we really need to know is that these guys kick ass!
Every song on Unonou has a guitar hook that immediately grabs you by the balls and tickles your taint. Danava manages to keep the music at a slow tempo without falling into a depressing doom style – not that there is anything wrong with gloriously depressing suicide doom. There isn’t a bad track on Unonou; they are all exceptional. However, my personal favorites are the title track, Unonou, and the long epic track, One Mind Gone Separate Ways, which contains multiple style changes, and to my untrained ears could be compared to some of Hawkwind’s early tunes. But enough of my blathering, run out and pick up this album.
The FJWM and I touched ourselves for 8.5 minutes.
Paranaut, The Hills Fell Silent
By Dave
Alright so to kick things off properly I'm going to review the debut release of one of the most underrated bands in Portland, OR these days. I'm talking about The Hills Fell Silent by Paranaut. These guys lay out the fundamentals of a proper doom metal album in incredibly relentless, thick, dark, sludgy slabs of stereophonic power.
The album is really all about heavy dark depressing atmosphere and they pull this off quite admirably. After listening to their album I usually feel like taking a nap or a couple shots of whiskey. If you are looking for something melodic and full of hooks or high flying guitar solos or otherwise have ADD issues, this not the record for you. If you are into hypnotic huge fuzzy dark riffs propelled by thunderous dynamic drumming and intensely scorched vocals leaning towards Max Cavelera or Barney Greenway you might want to check it out.
So you are probably wondering, "ok that's great but what makes this really much different than your normal stoner metal release?" The main elements that really stand out are the general dynamics and grooves that this band explore. Instead of building things from the ground up with the drums laying out the groove things are reversed with an interesting kind of jazzy effect. The guitar riffs really set the tempo and the pacing while the drumming is continuously changing, accenting and augmenting the chord structures in interesting innovative ways I haven't really heard in this genre before. The drums are also played with a pretty light touch overall creating an underlying urgency that I find very interesting and unique to Paranaut.
Some people might be turned off by the raw harsh tones of the bass and guitar, but it's really more about creating interesting unique sounds and textures than playing the “our guitar player has the biggest dick in the room” game that a lot of metal bands get caught up in.
There are only a couple things that I could really say negatively about The Hills Fell Silent. Sometimes riffs get a bit repetitive and the build-ups sometimes in my opinion take a bit too long to develop. I also really liked the guitar solos on this record I just wish they were more up front in the mix. Although the vocals are pretty sparsely included on the record I also would have liked to see them placed a bit more prominently in the overall mix, again really to add more overall dynamics.
This is a big, dark, brooding, hulk of a debut album. In my humble opinion this record really lays out what a good doom record is all about. It's the type of cd 17 year olds should be listening to while skipping class cruising the hills behind Vernonia in their old rusty camaro, high as a kite.
Using Jimmy's time honored scale of 1 to 10 minutes in reference to the auto erotic pleasure produced by this album I'll give 7.5 minutes.
Alright so to kick things off properly I'm going to review the debut release of one of the most underrated bands in Portland, OR these days. I'm talking about The Hills Fell Silent by Paranaut. These guys lay out the fundamentals of a proper doom metal album in incredibly relentless, thick, dark, sludgy slabs of stereophonic power.
The album is really all about heavy dark depressing atmosphere and they pull this off quite admirably. After listening to their album I usually feel like taking a nap or a couple shots of whiskey. If you are looking for something melodic and full of hooks or high flying guitar solos or otherwise have ADD issues, this not the record for you. If you are into hypnotic huge fuzzy dark riffs propelled by thunderous dynamic drumming and intensely scorched vocals leaning towards Max Cavelera or Barney Greenway you might want to check it out.
So you are probably wondering, "ok that's great but what makes this really much different than your normal stoner metal release?" The main elements that really stand out are the general dynamics and grooves that this band explore. Instead of building things from the ground up with the drums laying out the groove things are reversed with an interesting kind of jazzy effect. The guitar riffs really set the tempo and the pacing while the drumming is continuously changing, accenting and augmenting the chord structures in interesting innovative ways I haven't really heard in this genre before. The drums are also played with a pretty light touch overall creating an underlying urgency that I find very interesting and unique to Paranaut.
Some people might be turned off by the raw harsh tones of the bass and guitar, but it's really more about creating interesting unique sounds and textures than playing the “our guitar player has the biggest dick in the room” game that a lot of metal bands get caught up in.
There are only a couple things that I could really say negatively about The Hills Fell Silent. Sometimes riffs get a bit repetitive and the build-ups sometimes in my opinion take a bit too long to develop. I also really liked the guitar solos on this record I just wish they were more up front in the mix. Although the vocals are pretty sparsely included on the record I also would have liked to see them placed a bit more prominently in the overall mix, again really to add more overall dynamics.
This is a big, dark, brooding, hulk of a debut album. In my humble opinion this record really lays out what a good doom record is all about. It's the type of cd 17 year olds should be listening to while skipping class cruising the hills behind Vernonia in their old rusty camaro, high as a kite.
Using Jimmy's time honored scale of 1 to 10 minutes in reference to the auto erotic pleasure produced by this album I'll give 7.5 minutes.
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