The US has a major crush on Japan. We don’t just admire their culture, we tattoo that shit on our faces. I have no hate in my heart whatsoever for the Japanese, but as with most situations in life, I find myself the odd man out. I’d rather go down on Courtney Love than eat sushi, I can’t get into Anime, and I’d much rather watch King Kong than Godzilla (as I’ve tried many times to climb a building with a hot blonde only to be shot down).
[Note: Jack’s views and opinions on Japanese culture in general, and Godzilla in particular, expressed in this review are solely his own and are not necessarily the views of Metal Curse or Cursed Productions - or me! -Editor]
Takashi Miike? A few homeruns, a lotta strikeouts. And while we’re on that topic, Ichiro’s first MLB season in 2001… Rookie of the Year? No doubt about it. AL MVP? Gimme a fucking break. So, as with everything else, Japanese Metal bands tend to be severely overhyped. Admittedly, I’m drunk and it’s 1am, but I can’t recall much that is collection-worthy beyond select albums from Defiled, Vomit Remnants, Abigail, and Sigh. Judging by some of the reviews I’ve read on Tokyo’s Desecravity, you’d think that Implicit Obedience was the single greatest Death Metal LP of all time. It isn’t. It’s a sea of unmemorable riffs and blast beats with a solid but forgettable guttural growl. I’ve been listening to this thing for two months trying to come up with a review that consisted of more than, “not bad but really fucking boring.” Occasionally I hear a riff or two that reminds me of Sinister… then I think, “hey, I should go listen to Sinister.” There’s some virtuoso bass-slappin’ and ripping guitar solos all over the place, but like everything else here, it’s impressive but instantly forgotten. “Condemnation” has some nice Krisiun-style breakdowns. That’s about all I have. Not much else stands out, save for Yuichi Kudo’s excellent drumming and a few humorous lightweight screams. All that said, this album will probably win a Grammy (assuming it isn’t beaten by Gallhammer’s cover of “Stone Cold Crazy”). I just don’t hear it.

I’m still not, and may never be, completely sold on any form of Accept that does not include Udo “Bastard!!” Dirkschneider, but even I have to admit that Stalingrad is something of an improvement over 2010’s Udo-less return from the grave, Blood of the Nations. There are still too many expeditions into exhausted Hard Rock territory, like “Twist of Fate,” “Hellfire,” or the terrible album-closer “The Gallery” (excluding the jarringly excellent final minute or so), and trying to replace such an iconic singer as Udo is an impossible task. But even in the worst moments (often due to the vocals, but there’re a few clunky and even outright bad riffs) there are some redeeming qualities, and at its best, this album can cause fits of uncontrollable headbanging. By “its best,” I mean when these crusty krauts (minus one) are trying to sound like they used to when Udo was still in the band, and when Guy-Who’s-Not-Udo (non-kraut Mark Tornillo) puts forth maximum effort to sound as much like Udo as he can. Otherwise his vocals tend to get annoying quickly. At least someone knows to put the best song first, as “Hung, Drawn and Quartered” is arguably as good as things get here. The limited edition version of the CD comes with a bonus track, plus a DVD, which I haven’t seen, consisting of video clips and some live footage. Stalingrad is nowhere close to the first album I’ll reach for when I need an Accept fix, and I’m still hoping for a reconciliation with Udo (in a Mercyful Fate / King Diamond kind of way, so that Udo’s excellent “solo” band would also keep recording and touring), but if this new Accept continues to refine their sound, and more importantly, Not-Udo’s vocals, maybe after a couple more albums I’ll stop mentioning Udo so much in their reviews.

Hanging Garden was the gateway drug that led me to Happy Days. How ironic that SDBM mastermind A. Morbid is now the main man behind both projects. Fans of Hanging Garden’s 2011 LP, Goodbye Love… Hello Heartache…, concerned that Morbid was losing his Black Metal voice can rest at ease. He was apparently just “saving his best ‘riffs’ for Carcass,” if you will. It seems he had quite a bit saved up, as Cause of Death: Life is a colossal double album, and to keep us consistently puzzled, the two discs are radically different from one another. Disc One is the Happy Days I know and love. Hopelessly bleak Black Metal —owing much to the raw, repetitive simplicity of Burzum and Darkthrone— with enough Shoegaze tint to ensure maximum depression. This duo (rounded out by Karmageddon on drums) have come such a long way from their early output to where they are now. The sound quality and playing ability continually improve with each release, nowhere is that more evident than on Disc One’s re-recorded oldies (“Alone and Cold” from the ‘07 demo of the same name and “No Point in Living” from the ‘07 A World of Pain demo) which sound leagues better than the somewhat unbearable original recordings. Even the new version of “Take Me Away” is far superior to the one found on 2009’s Happiness Stops Here LP (considered by many to be their breakthrough opus). Lyrically, shit doesn’t get much realer: “Now my days are fading every time I blink / Hoping that my end will soon arrive / I don’t belong here, I need to die / Happiness doesn’t last, depression and Negativity will always triumph.” I’m sorry, but every other BM band’s lyric sheet just turned into Sesame Street dialogue. Unfortunately Disc Two is depressing for the wrong reasons. The song titles, lyrics, and vibe are unmistakably Happy Days, but something about the delivery is strikingly less poignant. The vocals are carelessly shouted, yelled, or just plain spoken, and while a few heartbroken melodies remain, the music just feels alarmingly off. Often grating and consistently unmemorable, it’s a noisy, sloppy step backwards for them. I sincerely hope that Disc One isn’t some kind of farewell to the Happy Days standard I adore, with Disc Two being a precursor of things to come, because without Disc Two this is probably a 10.

I have no idea what everyone sees in this band. Are they the worst band in the world? No, not at all. If they were, they’d at least memorable in that sense. They’re a band to be filed under “nothing special,” yet somehow are downright worshipped not only by a diehard legion of adoring fans, but by their peers as well. Perhaps they dominate the live setting? Could it be they hypnotize the crowd with spiked armbands and long black hair headbanging in perfect unison, like the zombies distracted by fireworks in Land of the Dead? The right look does go a long way. Maybe it’s because they’re from New Orleans —the cradle of overrated Metal. Whatever it is that endears them to the Metal masses is definitely not revealed on Blood for the Master, the group’s fifth full length, which is about as memorable as my first nap. A fountain of generic Thrash riffs forgotten the instant they’re played. Can this honestly be the same band that Matt Harvey of Exhumed said had better Celtic Frost riffs than Tom G. Warrior has written in years? Really? What am I missing? Are there two Goatwhores? Ben Falgoust isn’t a terrible vocalist —sort of a poor man’s Chuck Schuldiner— and I appreciate good Satanic lyrics as much as the next nun-rapist, but calling him one of the greatest frontmen in Metal seems like more than a bit of a stretch. And yes, they also have a great drummer… but so do Inverted Bitch Fister! At this point I’m convinced that Metal Blade has to be paying people to say that kind of shit. There’s no other explanation. So since I haven’t seen a dime, I’ll call it how I see it: Goatwhore, on record anyway, are not bad but far from great. Don’t drink the Kool-Aid. Don’t stare at the skyflowers.

This is one of those bands where the hotness of the band’s vocalist is usually the gist of any reviews or interviews done about them. With Chthonic, it’s Doris Yeh. With Arch Enemy, it’s Angela Gassow. For Mortad, you have Somi Arian. Yes, she is hot. Terrorizer magazine is probably going to have a poster of her in an upcoming issue unless whoever is constantly fapping off to Doris Yeh can somehow figure out a way to sneak another poster of her in instead. Still, this is a music review so unless you have a good imagination (and you’re willing to fap to Death/Thrash Metal), we’re only going to concern ourselves with what’s on the CD. The first thing about Somi Arian that you need to know is that she isn’t a singer in the Nightwish or Lacuna Coil vein. She’s fronting a Death/Thrash band and unless you saw a picture of her growling into a microphone, you’d never know that the singer was a woman. The vocals are harsh and corrosive. Think of her as the Persian version of Angela Gassow. I just wish the rest of the band’s output was the same caustic and aggressive brew. The thing that struck me about The Myth of Purity was how bland the music was. It chugged along in a very workman-like manner, never getting overly aggressive, brutal or heavy. It was there but it really didn’t reach out and grab you. I think part of the problem was that the drums buried the guitars most of the time. The guitars really need to be turned up or the snare drum turned down significantly. Maybe all they need is a rawer production. One of the hallmarks of the best Thrash or Death Metal is the ability of the band to get your head banging and your adrenaline flowing. They really need that here. The most exciting parts of any of Mortad’s songs are the guitar solos. That’s the only section of the song that kicks into high gear. Somi’s vocals are aggressive enough on their own but she can’t override the fact that the rest of the band is sleepwalking through their performances. I really wanted to like this album, but the lack of any seriously kick-ass songs and the general “blah” music kept that from happening.

Few Death Metal bands have gotten more love from me over the last decade than Germany’s Lay Down Rotten. They first caught my ear in late 2003 with their classic Paralyzed by Fear debut and have been flattening me ever since. The list of Death Metal albums that might have topped Reconquering the Pit in 2007, or the star-studded Gospel of the Wretched in 2009, is very short. As rotten as Ribspreader, as consistent as Bolt Thrower, as stubborn as Asphyx, and often yielding the melodic genius of Edge of Sanity, these guys are among simplistic brutality’s elite. All that said, I can pull no punches… clearly Mask of Malice was phoned in. There’s no other way to put it. I’ve given it months of spinning and about a dozen last chances, only to keep arriving at the same conclusion. This is unequivocally inferior to past works. There’s certainly nothing wrong with Jost Kleinert’s vocals. One of the smoothest bestial growls in the business, not to mention criminally underrated. The production is immaculate and it’s not like the music is terrible… it’s just a boring record. It’s a series of underwhelming riffs at varying monotonous paces that lends itself to a going-through-the-motions feel. For me, only two cuts stand out. “Swallow the Bitterness” and “The Devil Grins” are premium Lay Down Rotten anthems —fast to mid tempo, loaded with barbaric groove, desolate melodies, and brutal hooks— sadly treading water in a sea of filler. Hey, even the best Death Metal bands are entitled to lay an egg once in a while. Musicians are human and playing in a band can be taxing, especially when your labor of love isn’t paying all the bills. And while it doesn’t quite seem like their hearts were in it this time, I’m not ready to write them off just yet. I accept Mask of Malice for the anomaly that it is. A significantly less awesome album from a genuinely awesome band.

I don’t consider myself an expert on the more commercial side of Industrial music (or on anything else for that matter), but I have a hunch all you really need is KMFDM’s Angst, Pretty Hate Machine through The Downward Spiral, and all of the Ministry albums up to and including the timeless masterpiece Psalm 69. If you don’t own this beloved 1992 classic, you might as well be living on a different planet. However, speaking of downward spirals, nothing Al and the boys have done since has really caught my ear. Seemingly incapable of topping their own Reign in Blood, yet it’s not as though they’ve released any truly horrible albums… until now that is. Oh my, Psalm 69’s throne remains safely out of reach, as the overwhelming majority of Relapse begs for the white flag. There are a few decent beats, there are a few biting Thrash riffs, there are a few moments of heart rate-accelerating speed, there is absolutely nothing else. By Ministry standards, this album is a smilefest. Upbeat and fun, the suffering begins with a nauseating amount of fucking around right from the get-go on opener, “Ghouldiggers.” Does Jourgensen think he’s Les Claypool with all his funny hillbilly talkin’? This sickening humor vibe is felt throughout on other joke cuts like “Weekend Warrior” and “Git Up Get Out ‘n’ Vote.” Yeeeee-haaaaw! I can envision little girls playing Pattycake to their cover of S.O.D.’s “United Forces,” while “99 Percenters” would make a cute dance skit for the end of an Austin Powers movie. AND WHAT’S WITH ALL THESE HAPPY FAGGOT GUITAR SOLOS?! I didn’t know I was buying a fucking Aerosmith record! Jourgensen’s voice sounds every bit its age. More vocal effects, please. And while it’s hard not to appreciate his anti-establishment jabs and overall lyrical pessimism, the LP’s playground atmosphere destroys all anthemic possibilities. Only the title track does not induce vomiting.

One of the most underrated songs of all time is Swedish Death Metal horde Aeon’s acoustic, Country-style version of “God Gives Head in Heaven.” This is a song I’ll listen to on repeat for hours. Sure there’s a bit of humor implied, but the extremely anti-Christian sentiment seems to have more anthemic quality, more power, when delivered through clean vocals and acoustic guitar. Sorry, it’s the first thing that popped into my head upon initially hearing Austin’s Ancient Vvisdom, and it seemed more proper than starting the review with, “Satanic Dashboard Confessional? Count me in!” No, Ancient Vvisdom are not Country, nor are they Emo-tinged Pop, but the acoustic guitar and a pretty voice are their weapons of choice, and yes, lyrically they are but slaves to the One with horns. They write pure Classic Rock acoustic jams —granted they do utilize plenty of good ol’ electric guitar and just enough percussion to get the feet tapping— while radio-ready vocalist Nathan Opposition solemnly drops pimp shit like, “Hail to Thee, Lord Lucifer / I sing my praises to Thee and I suffer no longer.” It’s something different, it’s total kvlt, it’s well done, and I fucking love it. It isn’t a completely flawless record —”Lost Civilization” sounds too much like an unofficial “Ziggy Stardust” cover, “Devil Brain” goes a little crazy on the Blues hooks, and opener “Alter Reality” gets things off to a relatively slow start— but it doesn’t get much more immediately addictive than “The Opposition,” “Necessary Evil,” and “Forever Tonight.” The album ends on a superbly apocalyptic note with the joyless tandem of “Vvorld of Flesh” and “Children of the Wasteland,” and I believe a standing ovation is in order. A compelling juxtaposition of darkness and light, this might be the most fun one can have worshipping Negativity.

Ah, Finnish NSBM (National Socialist Black Metal, AKA “that Nazi shit,” for those who haven’t heard the term before). It’s easy to tell that this is NS because of the sunwheel designs on the album cover. Once you know what to look for, it’s easy to pick out an NSBM band even when the so-called “politically correct” record store claims to not stock any of that shit. When I first threw this on, I expected something more in the style of Graveland because the intro track had a very Slavic Folk air to it. However, once the intro was over, the Graveland influence fades into the background and the Burzum influences take center stage. The Graveland influence comes back here and there but not until the last track does it shine again. The music is fairly minimalistic and melancholic and chugs along at the same mid-paced tempo in the way that Burzum sounds. This didn’t surprise me very much. NSBM in general owes Varg Vikernes so much in terms of influence that he should be getting royalty checks from every skinhead this side of Siberia. Nattfog’s music is competently executed, but their weakness is in their production. The vocals are buried, the drums are too loud and the guitars need more bass. I imagine that the guitars wouldn’t sound too bad if they weren’t constantly getting drowned out by the snare and bass drums. If there had been a drum wanker behind the kit, I could understand why this would be the case, but the drumming isn’t technical at all. In fact, the first song had such basic, robotic, drumming that I thought I was listening to Techno/House music. The drum patterns don’t get much more complex than that throughout the course of this album - and with the drums being so loud, you can’t help but notice that. Like so many others in the Black Metal genre, this band could greatly benefit from a studio engineer that knew what he was doing. I’d honestly like to hear this album with a better sound just so that I could hear what they’re going for properly. I caught some clean vocals buried in the title track, but I really had to listen hard to even hear it at all. This could have been a better album, but most of Nattfog’s issues would disappear if they had a competent studio engineer to give them better tones and to mix things so that the drums don’t drown everything else out.

This was a tough review. So much so that I found myself revisiting these Finnish gloom lords’ entire back catalog. Sure enough it was exactly how I remembered, a damn fine body of work. Nearly impeccable, in fact, the only “mistake” Swallow the Sun ever made was letting Jonas Renkse lend his perfect voice to one of their songs, rendering all the others mortal. Joking aside, the reason for the memory lane stroll pains me to say, but I’m not really feeling Emerald Forest and the Blackbird as much. I’ve given it as much time as possible, hoping the material would start to sink in with repeated listens, but for the most part it hasn’t. The band have not really abandoned their comfort zone at all —this is essentially the same formula as 2009’s New Moon— on the contrary, I believe they may be trapped in it. The answer might lie in a line from by far the album’s greatest track (“Cathedral Walls”): “…where do we go from here?” Perhaps it’s no coincidence that this is the only song that ultimately feels like the Swallow the Sun of old, with its depressive majesty and dynamic power. And while I won’t be tracking down all the Nightwish albums anytime soon, I must say Anette Olzon’s guest vocal performance compliments this song perfectly. Sadly, no other cuts successfully permeate the mindlair. It’s not like any of them are horrible —save for maybe the opening title track, which feels like a 10-minute intro— they just slightly miss the mark. So much of this LP feels like the same sleepy, acoustic-driven ballad with echoes of Pink Floyd amidst its swaying Waltz, just waiting for the ensuing Death/Doom heaviness explosion to wake it up. Mikko Kotamaki has one of the best clean voice/Doom growl combos in the business, but his spoken word and Black Metal shriek I can do without, as they mar some tracks that are otherwise serviceable. Honestly it’s difficult to put my finger on why all but the one song fail to be memorable. All of the pieces are still there for this great band, who quite frankly just sound tired. I wouldn’t write them off yet though. This might just be a clearing of the creative cobwebs, meaning their next one could be something truly special.

This band hails from Madrid, Spain, but when you listen to this, they may as well be from Ross Bay, Canada. When I saw the Nuclear War Now! label on this album, I knew that Proclamation was going to be straight-out brutal Black Metal in the Blasphemy style. Yosuke, the owner of Nuclear War Now!, is a huge Blasphemy fan and many of the bands that have released material through Nuclear War Now! have had the infamous Canadian War Metal sound a-la Fallen Angel of Doom and Gods of War. The only drawback to this style is that when you listen to it, all you can think of is Blasphemy. Even bands that came after Blasphemy, such as Revenge and Conquerer (both of which had Ryan Forster of Blasphemy in their line-ups), have suffered from the same problem. Once you have the Blasphemy albums, you really don’t need any others. This is where Proclamation ultimately loses the war. If you listen to Nether Tombs of Abaddon without having listened to Blasphemy at all, this is a fairly well executed album that is brutal, caustic and oppressively relentless. No frills, no guitar soloing, no female vocals or symphonic keyboards are to be found anywhere near this. It hits you hard and bulldozes you under. If you already have the Blasphemy albums, though, this is effectively a clone of that sound. This is War Metal for War Metal fans. If you love the Blasphemy sound and want every Black Metal band to sound just like it, then Proclamation is not going to disappoint you.

Here’s the Top 10 things I know about Psycroptic: 10) I’ve never heard them before. 9) They hail from Tasmania. 8) Tasmania is a real place. 7) They’ve shared the stage with some heavy-hitting Death Metal royalty. 6) They generally tend to garner positive reviews across the board. 5) Critics generally tend to use 11 musical styles to describe their musical style. 4) #5 and #6 scare me. 3) This was intended to be a Tasmanian Devil joke, but I decided to take the high road. 2) Top 10 lists are one of the Top 10 forms of subterfuge.
So… I’ve spent the last couple months intermittently locked in a room with The Inherited Repression, committed to finding out if all the hype is justified, and I’ve arrived at a few concrete assessments. At their core, Psycroptic is a Thrash band. Very modern, very intense, very technical, but a Thrash band nonetheless. David Haley is a fantastic drummer who could hold his own in any Death Metal band. I don’t particularly care for Jason Peppiatt’s dry, throaty bark, but I’m still going to resist that Tasmanian Devil joke. Look, I’m at a point in my life when I require my music to possess some elements of pure, unbridled emotion. Whether that be pain, misery and despair, hatred, love, sadness, anger… whatever the evening calls for. Psycroptic’s music contains no emotion whatsoever. Their primary goal is showmanship, and to their credit, they nail it. Each riff is an elaborate design, each track is a testament to the art of shredding, and I’m sure they’re a pleasure to watch in the live setting. It’s also a safe bet that any aspiring guitarist would find the level of Joe Haley an excitable challenge to ascend to. That said, talented musicians are a dime a dozen — I want songs. Psycroptic don’t have any, which ultimately means:
1) These guys are incredibly talented musicians, but their music is boring as fuck.

If you read Forgjord’s press release, you’d think that this album was the bar-none absolute best Finnish Black Metal album ever created. When you listen to it, though, you don’t get that impression. I’ve heard plenty of bands that sound exactly like this, starting with Darkthrone’s infamous Transylvanian Hunger album. This is raw, noisy, Black Metal with a singer that has a seriously large amount of reverb on his vocals. And I mean a seriously large amount of reverb. This guy sounds like a kid trapped at the bottom of a well. When things get chaotic (which is often), the vocals bury just about everything. Part of the problem is the extremely “necro” production. When you suck the bass out of the guitars, you create a situation where anything lower-end (be it vocals, drumming or both) can drown them out. Most of the time, the guitars sound like white noise in the background. The vocals and blasting drums effectively bury any coherence they might have had. This band could benefit greatly from a studio engineer that knew what he was doing. There are some interesting elements here, particularly the weird atmosphere that they’re able to generate by being so raw and out of control, but the poor sound and incoherence of the guitars sink this. The truly “kvlt” will probably love Sielunvihollinen, but Necro Black Metal was never my favorite subset of the Black Metal style.

Ah, the legendary Terrorizer. No band has ever gotten more mileage out of 16 songs… except for maybe Mayhem. Of course I’m referring to 1989’s sempiternal, Death-infused Grindcore classic World Downfall. Arguably Pete Sandoval’s most impressive drumming clinic to date, inarguably one of the records that proved the US could Grind toe-to-toe with the UK all-stars of that era. When Sandoval and the late, great Jesse Pintado reunited in 2006 with Resistant Culture’s Anthony Rezhawk at the vocal helm, it was cause for celebration. But while Darker Days Ahead was a monster of an album that made a compelling comeback statement, time has not been kind to it. Admit it, you can’t remember how a split second of the record goes (and no, the re-recorded version of “Dead Shall Rise” doesn’t count). Unfortunately we’ll probably be saying the same about Hordes of Zombies in six years. You certainly can’t fault the personnel. Rezhawk reclaims the mic with an often intelligible, one-dimensional roar that suits such militant Grindcore perfectly. His Resistant Culture cohort Katina Culture fills Pintado’s shoes more than admirably on the ax. Original World Downfall alumni David “Radikult” Vincent handles bass duties (because after all, he’s been crossin’ the line since 1989), but no worries, there aren’t any Rap or Techno parts. Last but not least, Pete Sandoval is “back” to being Pete Sandoval. To know that he’s healthy, fully recovered and drumming like a human tornado again is worth the price of admission alone. Still, I don’t know if this album is memorable enough to warrant a ton of repeated listens. After the intro, the tag team of the title track and “Ignorance and Apathy” explode, boasting some very Grindcrusher Tour-worthy riffs. But shortly after dizziness ensues while whirlwind-headbanging to “Subterfuge,” the songs start sounding very same-y despite the stellar performances of the parties involved. The once excited mind begins to wander as you start to question how much of a shit anyone would give if this weren’t the legendary Terrorizer. As far as the mid-to-latter portion of the record goes, only the riffgasm achieved on “Prospect of Oblivion” stands out as a true highlight. All complaints aside, I can’t say enough about Sandoval’s metronomic machine gun fire performance. For me the best-Metal-drummer-of-all-time debate ends with him.

This is album number two for Spain’s Aggression. I don’t have their first album, but it’s clear that these guys learned what Thrash was from reading Guitar World. If your idea of Thrash is Baloff-era Exodus, Slayer, Peace Sells…-era Megadeth, Kill ‘em All-era Metallica, and Possessed, you’re going to think that Aggression sucks almost immediately. This isn’t brutal, fire-breathing Thrash Fucking Metal. This isn’t even Melodic Thrash like Heathen or Anvil Chorus. This is Thrash for the Fate’s Warning/Dream Theater crowd. It’s “check out how technical my riffing is!” Thrash Metal that is talented but ultimately soulless. You can be technical and still be brutal. If you need an example, Peace Sells… by Megadeth is probably one of the best Technical Thrash albums ever made. The music is memorable, technical and brutal as fuck. It kills posers on contact. [Too bad it can’t retroactively kill Dave Mustaine. -Editor] Viocracy doesn’t. You might get a favorable review from Guitar World for your use of inventive picking techniques, but this lacks in the most vital areas: passion and aggression. You don’t “feel it” with these guys. Their band name may be Aggression, but they certainly don’t deliver it.

I’ll always respect this band for their outstanding live performances, and for bringing said performances to my shitty neck of the woods on numerous occasions for some odd reason. It’s hard to top the perfect storm of heaviness, passion, technical ability, and catchiness they achieved on their first two LPs (2006’s All Things Set Aside and 2008’s The Common Man’s Collapse), and it’s nice to know I was into the band long before some virgin invented the wretched term Djent Metal. But I started to notice on 2010’s (id) EP (somewhere amidst its 372 instrumentals) that the band’s focus began to evolve towards more technicality and Progressive elements… less passion, less catchiness. With the Eclipse EP (sorry guys, gotta be a half hour or longer, you’re in the big leagues now) that evolution unfortunately continues. This feels less and less like a band trying to get a pit started from the heart, and more and more like virtuosos jamming in a practice room, trying to come up with as many scales and Meshuggah polyrhythms as possible. I realize the need to progress as musicians, and I also recognize the importance of abandoning the quickly sinking ship that is the Deathcore/Metalcore scene. And while it’s unfair to deny their pure skill —most notably Marc Okubo’s fretboard acrobatics, the subtle but effective keyboard nuances, and Sam Applebaum’s amazingly improved drumming— or to resist a thumbs-up for keeping the vocals brutal, this record doesn’t lend itself to too many memorable moments. I’ve been spinning it for over a week now and all that stands out is the hilarious sample near the end of “Punisher.” Maybe it’s because dude has a point? Whereas they used to make the most out of their trusty bag of breakdowns, bends and bear growls, they now try to cram 1200 notes into a sub-3-minute cut. I know the major Metal press will say the band is “coming of age” and that this is their best material to date. Let us never forget that the major Metal press do not have souls. I’d much rather turn back the clock, watch the band finish a set with “Entry Level Exit Wounds,” then go get drunk and hopefully die.

I read somewhere that this is the darkest Lacuna Coil album yet. Realistically, that’s like saying that “Baby” was the heaviest Justin Bieber song ever written. Suicidal/Depressive Black Metal Lacuna Coil is not. I imagine that compared to their back catalog, Dark Adrenaline is probably the darkest Lacuna Coil album yet. I got the distinct impression that these folks were listening to Evanescence a whole lot while writing this because they have a similar vibe, that pseudo-Goth Rock & Roll sound, but Evanescence is still both darker and better at what they do. In terms of the music on Dark Adrenaline, this is very commercial sounding. Hot Topics all over the country are going to be playing this every time you walk by one at the mall. This is guaranteed. It’s very radio friendly and slick, but I was waiting and hoping that things would get darker and heavier. The last track is probably the closest I got to what I wanted. Even the REM cover (“Losing My Religion”) didn’t measure up to the original in terms of darkness. When REM sounds darker than you do, you’ve got a ways to go before you can be considered “dark.” Lacuna Coil just sounds too candy-coated and commercial to really go down into the depths of darkness and depression their image might suggest. They’re darker and heavier than Nightwish, but that’s about it. If I seriously wanted to listen to something in this vein, I’d probably listen to Evanescence instead. Dark Adrenaline doesn’t go as far as I’d like them to go in terms of atmosphere and heaviness.

I feel as privileged to review this DVD as the six band-selected fans who filmed it. My love for Dinosaur Jr. predates my love for most things, and I never dreamed the opportunity to cover the Alt Rock legends would present itself in the realms of Metal. But by now I’ve learned that when it comes to my luck there’s always a catch. Directed by Dave Markey (The Year Punk Broke), In the Hands of the Fans captures the band performing their third LP, 1988’s Bug, in its entirety at Washington DC’s 9:30 Club last June… Bug being easily my least favorite Dinosaur Jr. album. Don’t get me wrong, opener “Freak Scene” is one of their best songs ever, but the rest of it sort of lacks the instant memorability and heartfelt poignancy that initially hooked me to Dinosaur Jr (and consequently the solo works of God among men J Mascis). I’m more of a Green Mind through Hand It Over guy, although the first two records —and while we’re at it, the most recent two— are about as timeless and essential as records get. Regardless of the fact that Bug never did much for me beyond its first track, this is still must-see TV (especially if you’re an unlucky bastard like me who has never seen them live). The band’s performance is so flawless that I thought they were splicing the live footage to a studio recording! It isn’t until Mascis’ first in-between song banter halfway through the set (which consists of, “Hey thanks”) that I realized it was just that spot-on. In my opinion, J Mascis is the greatest non-Metal guitarist of all time. Getting my first real chance to thoroughly observe him in the live setting, I see that the majority of the magic he creates is with the pick hand and —originally a drummer— his feet. I wouldn’t know what to do with that many pedals, but then again I’m mortal. Still, this is the Bug material and it tends to drag a bit. What I wouldn’t give to see him tear through some Where You Been solos! We do get some extra goodies though. There’s a crowd-selected encore of “Sludgefeast” and “Raisans” (from 1987’s You’re Living All Over Me) and bonus footage of “In a Jar” (also from ‘87) and “The Wagon” (1991’s Green Mind). There’s also two interviews with the band —one on-stage by Henry Rollins, and one backstage by the six fans— which reveal them to be the down-to-earth regular joes I had a feeling they were, a third interview with J and Dave Markey, plus a spot with Rollins on the history of the 9:30 Club(s). We also get glimpses of Mike Watt, Keith Morris, and Ian MacKaye, all in attendance that night. I was unaware Dinosaur Jr. had such a hardcore Hardcore following. Overall, a fantastic package from one of the greatest bands in Rock ‘n’ Roll history, even if Bug isn’t their finest hour.

Svarga Music describes this band as “Ukrainian Industrial Folk Death Metal” and I guess that has enough adjectives to cover all of the areas that Thunderkraft goes on this album. For the most part, Totentanz sounds more like Symphonic Black Metal. This is a keyboard-heavy album and if you remember how overpowering the keyboards were on Emperor’s In the Nightside Eclipse, you know how Totentanz sounds. The guitars are nice and heavy, but once the keyboards kick in, they’re buried almost immediately. If that was all that this album did, it would be a fairly solid release. When Thunderkraft gets “experimental,” things get weird. The song “Dance of the Dead,” for example, starts off with this oddball Techno/Industrial beat and goes into a song that is mostly Symphonic Black Metal, but with odd effects, keyboard parts and other electronic bits thrown in almost at random that only really serve as distractions. This is a case of a band bolting on “experimental” stuff to sound different and having their sound get all fucked up and diluted. If they hadn’t included all of the weird shit, this would have been a better album. Experimentation isn’t bad, but this is a case of trying to be too many different things. You can tell when a band naturally evolved in a new direction. This isn’t it. It sounds forced and unnatural. Totentanz is an album showing a band trying to find an identity. Clearly, they haven’t found it yet. Hopefully, they’ll figure things out and their next album will be better.

I love Napalm Death as much as anyone, but it’s time to face facts. Every positive, glowing review you see of their more recent material is basically an extended Lifetime Achievement Award, no one more guilty than myself. But faced with the unenviable challenge of reviewing Utilitarian, I can’t hold back anymore. My introduction to the band came as a high schooler in the early ’90s, with Death Metal-infused Grindcore classics like Harmony Corruption, Utopia Banished and the stellar Death by Manipulation comp. To this day, those are the records I reach for when I need my fix. I did enjoy the more accessible direction they went in during the Greed Killing/Diatribes era, and while people speak highly of that period now, at the time there were cries of sell-out and the band gradually returned to fast, brutal form. Since then, fans have established a pattern. Every couple years, Barney & Co. release an undoubtedly solid but ultimately forgettable album that we spin a few times then shelve eternally. Of course there are exceptions —2005’s The Code Is Red… and the Leaders Not Followers covers collections spring to mind— but I couldn’t tell Enemy of the Leech from Time Waits for No Smear if I had to, decent as those albums are. On the contrary, Utilitarian is definitely unforgettable, but not exactly for the right reasons. Greenway’s lungs, subjected to over two decades of rigorous roaring, may have finally had enough. In parts of this album he sounds like a horse getting flogged. Mitch Harris’ patented backing screams sound even more strained, rendering “The Wolf I Feed” and “Orders of Magnitude” completely unlistenable. Speaking of unlistenable, I just don’t ever need to hear saxophone on a Napalm Death track (“Everyday Pox”). Call me closed-minded, I’m fine with that. It sounds fucking weird and I don’t like it. Otherwise the band is musically as tight as ever, balancing relentless speed with slower tempo experimental nuances, but none of it is memorable. The clean vocal arrangements and interspersed Swans/My Bloody Valentine worship found on a healthy handful of cuts do stand out, but only because they don’t really sound proper for a Napalm Death record. Clearly the band acknowledge the need to mix things up a bit and I applaud them for it but, much like 15% of the United States, it just doesn’t work. You might be able to extract about 25 minutes of serviceable Grindcore bliss from the limited edition version of this album, if you were willing to sift through about 25 minutes of the band out of their element to do so. Look, these men are legends. They are forefathers of extreme, politically-charged art the world over and I am the definition of nobody. However, when it comes to Utilitarian, I ABSTAIN!