(TheMadIsraeli reaches new heights of fanboy-dom in this latest installment of his Melodeath Week series, shining the spotlight on Denmark’s The Arcane Order.)
Just listen to this…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-6ZDxBkt0g
I think I could honestly end this article right here, but I’m a fan boy for this band, so I have to gush a bit. (gushing, and a lot more music, after the jump . . .) Continue reading »
(Today is a day for guest contributions, and this one is from ElvisShotJFK, who has been a friend of this site and an insightful commenter almost since the beginning of NCS. And there will be more to come from him next week . . .)
It’s no secret that I am quite fond of the stuff deemed Oriental metal or Middle-Eastern metal. There’s something about it, beyond the music itself, that I find myself drawn to for some reason. The band that is most directly responsible for this would be Orphaned Land.
Mabool is one of those albums that made me aware of music I hadn’t really heard before and gave me reason to explore the music of other bands from the region. And of course, I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of The Never Ending Way Of ORwarriOR. I wasn’t fond of the title, but as Mabool had proved to me before, one shouldn’t judge an album by its title; ORwarriOR met my expectations and even exceeded some.
For a metal band to thrive in the Middle East is quite an accomplishment. Orphaned Land had disbanded after their second release, but they had a loyal fan following brought together by the internet, which helped convince singer Kobi Farhi to bring the band back together. With a new record deal, Mabool was the impressive result that they needed.
One of the things about Orphaned Land’s fans is that they have been able to put aside many of their differences – real and perceived – to come together under the banner of metal. Regardless of the generations-old hatred that is still passed on and on, Arabs and Jews have gathered together, singing in each other’s languages and getting along. Much better than the shit we usually hear about on the news. (more after the jump . . .) Continue reading »
(TheMadIsraeli delivers the next installment of his Melodeath Week series.)
Now we get into the real meat and potatoes. This is the shit I LOVE out of this list. So without further ado…
The Absence is pretty easy to sum up. Mix At The Gates with early In Flames and you have this band in a nutshell. From Your Grave, for a debut, was vicious, sharp, and aiming for the throat. This band was obviously out for blood at the time, having the problem to overcome of being an American melodeath band.
From Your Grave is fast, technical, and memorable in all the right ways. Somehow The Absence found a way to take the brutality and dark riffing of At The Gates and counterbalance it with In Flames sense of guitar harmonies and emotive melodies. As the album’s intro plays, with that somber sole riff in the distance and the harmony coming into it, you’re being lured you into the assault of the official opener “A Breath Beneath”.
This album is full of riffs. Chock-fucking-full. You’ll remember every single one of them and want to hear them on repeat. Guitar duo Patrick Pintavalle and Peter Joseph perform with each other as if they’re one entity. It’s rare to hear two guitarists who write dual guitar parts THIS seamless. Picking the harmonies at the right time is a huge thing for me on this album. In fact, everything occurs at the right place, at the right time.
Most of you will already know this band, but if you don’t, learning about them now might serve you well. These guys BLEED melodic death metal. Listen after the jump . . . Continue reading »
(Our cup runneth over — NCS reader/commenter Trollfiend, who clearly knows how to write a review that will cause you to brown your underoos with laughter, rejoins us for the second time this week with an immensely entertaining retrospective on the music of Minas Morgul. Allow me to say, “Pure blackity blackness with a side of black. Also, wolves.”)
Germans are good at a lot of things: making chocolate, designing cars, and brewing beer, for example. I bet you thought I was going to make some sort of crass WWII reference, like “they’re also good at invading Poland” or something inappropriate about the Holocaust. I would never do such a thing. I abhor stereotypes as much as I abhor lederhosen swamp-ass, and I don’t make jokes about horrific tragedies unless they’re really fucking funny.
So, in the interest of good fellowship with our jackbooted fascist friends over in good olde Deutschland, I am going to share with you one of their little musical gems, largely unknown outside the land of biergartens and polka. My German is not great, pretty much limited to what I’ve learned from repeat plays of Castle Wolfenstein, but as any true soldier of the Fatherland would do, I’m going to struggle manfully through this review without the use of Google Translate. So here we go: Minas Morgul.
If you’re thinking, ‘hey, I’ve heard that name before’, you’re either a big fan of pagan/black metal or a monstrous shaggy nerd-ape (the two aren’t mutually exclusive). Minas Morgul, for you folks who don’t know, is the name of the city of the Nazgul in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. It’s also the name of a black metal band from Frankfurt. Now I’m not sure if Minas Morgul (the band… not to be confused with Minas Morgul, the Summoning album) counts as Tolkien metal per se – with songs like “AK-47 – Kalaschnikov-Standgericht”, it’s probably safe to say they deviate from the oeuvre just a little – but for the most part you can call them black metal pretty accurately. That is assuming you don’t count the occasional Rammsteinesque clean bridges that pepper their songs like hairy vestigial nipples on a child-devouring witch. (more after the jump . . .) Continue reading »
(NCS writer BadWolf returns to our fold with his take on the forthcoming sixth album from Texas-based Absu.)
Absu’s 2011 pseudo-self-titled album, Abzu sends a message: “We are back, baby!” But wait, you may say, didn’t they already release a comeback album in 2009? With a near-identical title? And a similar cover? And the same funky wyvern mascot? Correct on all counts. But where Absu was overweight and boring, Abzu is sleek and stimulating—it is the sound of a band dedicated to constant improvement 20 years after its formation. If only more veterans shared their vitriol and dedication.
While Absu may have the lyrical and vocal aesthetic of black metal, at heart they want to be Slayer. At this point, aping LA’s finest is more than cliché, it’s juvenile. Bands trying to be Slayer (or Exodus for that matter—I’m looking at you, Heavy Artillery records) ceased to be interesting or innovative years ago. Props to Absu, then for doing their heroes justice and only cherry-picking those elements that work: They embrace their little beauty marks (the Araya-worship screams that punctuate “Earth Ripper”), not their most-xeroxed techniques (no trem-bar solos here).
Love of thrash keeps Abzu from inducing black metal fatigue, unlike some of their older records. New guitarist Vis Crom has elegance in his riffs that Shaftiel and Aethyris lacked, and his aptitude for middle-eastern-style solo melodies finally feels at home in Absu, not shoehorned in. Band leader Proscriptor McGovern works his hardest to out-fill Dave Lombardo, but has a style of his own. Nobody strings together tom hits the way he does.
Concordantly, Abzu feels at once familiar and unique. The production mirrors this: The instruments are dry and crunchy, but register with modern digital clarity. And god damn do those drums pop nicely. I felt a click when I heard this record, like when I try on a jacket in a store and it instantly registers as *the* article of clothing I was seeking. For the first time since Tara, the band is painting by magic, not numbers. (more after the jump . . .) Continue reading »
(After a one-day hiatus, TheMadIsraeli returns with the next installment in this Melodeath Week series, and today’s focus is on a Finnish favorite here at NCS — Before the Dawn.)
Before The Dawn might be a hard sell to some of you as a candidate for melodeath week. I was surprised when Islander reviewed Soundscape Of Silence (here) that people didn’t react in the way I’ve experienced when talking about this band. What’s that? Argue that Before The Dawn has been pioneering some obtuse form of metalcore. I suppose I can kinda understand the logic. They have the metalcore energy, and something of the poppy sensibilities that metalcore can have. However, if you ask me, this is an unfair characterization. Before The Dawn use these elements to create a very somber, very melancholic atmosphere.
If you’re at all familiar with the sound of this band, then you’re familiar with everything they do. The sound is very consistent. Trying to pick any one album as the band’s best is kind of pointless. For example, the album I’m focusing on here (2007’s Deadlight) and the one that preceded it (The Ghost, from 2006) are almost interchangeable, with VERY similar melodies. Even with the strong similarities, though, Deadlight, out of all this band’s albums, is the one that sticks with me the most. (more after the jump . . .) Continue reading »
(We are so pleased to feature the first NCS guest review (and we hope it’s not the last) by one of our readers and frequent commenters, the only guy around here who gives Phro a run for his money, Trollfiend.)
I sometimes find myself compelled to defend my love of folk and pagan metal to the people I talk about music with, regardless of whether or not they might also like it or, if I’m being honest, whether or not they care. This is because the genre has a bit of a reputation, possibly deserved, of being a little cheesy. You know what I mean: furs, swords, war paint . . . this is what a lot of people think of when they hear “folk metal”. For those of us who love it, though, that image is as fundamental as corpse paint is to old school Norwegian black metal.
Unfortunately along with this expected trope often comes a certain level of dismissal: You see a bunch of dirty assholes in fur cloaks and you automatically think, ‘Oh great, another pile of wannabe Vikings. I bet that guy drives a Prius.’ If you take that approach to Russian folk metal powerhouse Arkona, however, you’re missing out on having your ass kicked all over Siberia in all kinds of heretofore undiscovered and not entirely unpleasant ways.
Like a lot of female-fronted bands, especially in metal, Arkona pretty much revolves around its frontwoman. In this case, however. It’s not because the record label thinks tits and leather pants are going to sell more albums…it’s because iron-piped Masha “Scream” Arhipova is a fucking ballbusting Slavic demon goddess with a whip made out of broken vodka bottles and a voice that is like getting punched in the face with a bear.
So when I was offered the chance to review Arkona’s latest album Slovo (released Aug 26, 2011) I sharted myself with glee. After I changed my pants (no one likes to sit in cold shart) I sat down to have a listen. Continue reading »
(NCS writer TheMadIsraeli serves up Part 2 of his week-long series on modern melodic death metal.)
One of the complaints I’ve always heard about melodeath is that it isn’t aggressive enough. Well, to those complainers, In Dread Response is here to tell you to fuck yourself.
The debut of this New Zealand band, released in 2008, is really something to behold. I mean, just listen to the two singles (one here and one after the jump):
“Love” is not strong enough a word to convey the depths of feeling I have for this music. Its sweet, subtle notes are seductive, awakening long-dormant passions, transporting the listener to realms inhabited perhaps by angels, but certainly not by mere mortals.
Listening to the album, like a walk through peaceful woods in the early fall, captures the lush sensations of surrounding nature — the soft caress of a breeze just beginning to carry a chill, the dulcet tones of a whippoorwill calling to its mate, the gentle rustle of leaves shifting against each other before the life departs them and they fall to blanket the forest floor, the glistening shards of light piercing here and there through the canopy overhead.
A sense of peace and tranquility suffuses the soul, inspiring thoughts of the sublime beauty of creation and the care of a mothering earth for her children. No, even that is inadequate; my poor words fail me.
Think instead of being lent the wings of a dove and soaring among the clouds for moments all too brief, the corporeal magnificence of the earth below, and above, the unfathomable mysteries of the universe receding into the limitless distance. Your heart bursts with elation, your mind fills with wisdom, but alas, the ethereal beauty of the album reaches its end, and so too does your tranquil journey through the skies. (more after the jump . . .) Continue reading »
(TheMadIsraeli delivers another installment of Revisiting the Classics, focusing on a personal favorite of mine.)
Shit is on now.
If you don’t know who this band is, you shouldn’t even be reading a site called No Clean Singing. Dying Fetus are the kind of elite, prestige-incarnate band whose achievements you wish you were capable of achieving with your sorry lives. [EDITOR’S NOTE: I’m sure TheMadIsraeli wasn’t really talking about you — just some other poor schmucks who, unlike you, and your close friends, are incapable of grand achievements.]
This is one of those bands whose every album I possess. Love every album, every song, every riff, every breakdown, you name it. Dying Fetus, Suffocation, and Vader are my elite of death metal, and so far no one else has earned admission to their company. Killing On Adrenaline (1998) is the album when the band (or maybe, in the end, more specifically, guitar-brutalizer and guttural-barker John Gallagher) found their sound. After a couple of VERY prototype-sounding releases, the formula found on Killing On Adrenaline became the solidified sound that would continue to mark the music of the band and its various incarnations up to this very minute.
I know that most people, when talking about the classic Dying Fetus album, would go to the band’s release after this one, Destroy The Opposition. While that album is great, there is a rawness and energy on Killing that it doesn’t have, most likely a product of the band’s excitement in discovering who they were. This album also features most of the so-called classic Dying Fetus lineup — vocalist/bassist Jason Netherton, guitarist and mastermind John Gallagher, rhythm guitarist Brian Latta, and drummer Kevin Talley. (more after the jump . . .) Continue reading »