Each member leaves a certain mark from track to track, with frontman Rich Muller lending a quick and heavy hand on the axe coupled with a potent, mid-ranged voice all too fitting the style of hardcore the band revels in. Bassist Chris Vezza maintains a heady presence, holding together the chaos with steady grooves that tend to stand out a touch more in the mix than many other hardcore acts allow. However, if I had to pinpoint the real lynchpin to the entire mix, it is certainly the percussion work of one Jerry Carbone, whose frantic double-bass and creative fills would be sorely missed and leave something to be desired. At 31 minutes, the album's 14 tracks tend to blur together at a casual listen, but moments certainly stick out. I for one didn't really take full heed of what I was hearing until track 5, "Something Like Silence" and it's more patient, rewarding riffage. It's the one track I'd send anyone looking to check the band out towards, as it represents both the core elements of Vise Massacre while also easily being the most well-crafted and potent song available in the bunch.

The album isn't so much hit and miss as it is one extended dose of damn fine hardcore, with "Something Like Silence" sort of peaking early on. While pure hardcore or any of it's variations are rarely my cup of tea, as they say, I don't see why anyone who takes to this brand of noise couldn't enjoy Expendable Humans. As I am fond of saying of most hardcore acts, the studio is only a means of luring the uninitiated to the true heart of the matter, which is of course live and in person. That is truly where such music shines.  

The Swedish band (nominally a trio, but also capable of expanding to a septet) employs the Gothenberg Symphony Orchestra to flesh out essentially acoustic, folk-based covers of everything from "Seek & Destroy," "War Pigs," and other metal warhorses. The result is that the songs reveal themselves in this treatment an odd Renaissance feel, like murder ballads, almost. This is especially true in a haunting version of "Run to The Hills." Of course, nothing can really elevate "School's Out" and "We're Not Gonna Take It" from their snotty, original glory. But even here, there is no ironic feel, nor an overly earnest one. Vocalist Siri Bergnehr's deadpan, deliberate vocals help rescue even the failures, though she sounds flat on these last two.

In all Hellsongs take an idea that has caused mostly tears and snickers and made something charming and solid from it. "Long Live Lounge" may not keep its juice past a couple of listens, but at first blush this works with an intelligence and melodic sense missing from bigger-budgeted fiascos.

The opener, "Syvyys," is an entry into another world, one that takes seriously the world of gods and demons, and of spells both dark and redemptive. Of the five tracks, this one may stay with you for a long time, if nothing else because it heralds such a unique and original sound. However, the funereal "Ne jotka selviävät talvestamme," at eighteen minutes plus, is the centerpiece of the record. This duo of instrumentalist Aslak Tolonen and singer Andy Koski-Semmens here create a song that can in every sense of the word be called epic. I have no idea what they are singing about, yet the mythic feel of this has an authority and power that is hard to shake. As on other tracks, one of the main instruments is the kantele, a fifteen string traditional Finnish acoustic piece similar to a zither. Its haunting, psaltery-like tones only add to the mystical vibe.

For all the smoky vibes, Dulli's songs benefit from the volume and grit that live performance gives them. The opening "Last Night In Town" is a sweaty, gruesome slugfest, and the rest of the record does not dampen that promise. Dulli has always been unpredictable in concert, but also generous: long shows, covers, snippets of tunes, and of course the smart-ass between song patter. It is all here in sweaty, unself-conscious glory. "Love," "Blackbird and The Fox," "Decatur St." and "On The Corner" especially benefit from the loose and loud treatment. Part of the appeal of Afghan Whigs/Twilight Singers is that on record the songs have a menace, as if at any moment they might come unglued and musically match the sinister strut of the lyrics. Live, they do just that, and the effect is often gleefully overwhelming.

Greg Dulli is one of the few consistently decadent artists who give you the impression that he means ever word he says. On "Live in New York," in case you need proof, he and the band deliver his special message of love and loss with fury and danger. Caution: the real deal at work.

The minimal "Sigil of Brass" uses carefully inserted cello and cymbals to compliment Dylan Carson's ringing, meditative and shifting single notes. The dreamlike, ambling "His Teeth Did Brightly Shine" creates ambient effects from those minimal tones, along with a murky, tin-ny bass line adding a lo-fi feel. "Waltz (A Multiplicity of Doors)" and "The Corascene Dog" build off of the same wall of sound, each offering differing aspects of a sound that blends fusion with psych washes.

The finale is the most adventurous. "The Rakehell" seems based on a slowed down take on the Stones' "Dancing with Mr. D" riff, giving it a sludgy tone but holding on to the original funky feel. Minimalism never sounded so soulful.

"Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light II" is brilliant, insular and deliberate but loose and open to what the moment will bring. Earth's use of improvisation and melodic cues has always been stunning, but this one already leaps from their catalog as a highpoint.

What Phil does best is melody; his hooks, both vocal and instrumental, are sticky-sweet and infectious while the DIY nature of the songwriting totally dodges the possibility of it all being overblown and potentially cheesy. There's a simple honesty to Phil's music that just captures you from the start and makes the album a perfect spin for a variety of different moods and tastes. After an atmospheric intro piece, "Let's Play" grabs you immediately with a delicious little riff. The lyrical approach is very down to earth and easily relatable from track to track, dealing with the highs, lows and middle grounds of life. Phil writes a mean, mean chorus, which highlight almost every track and make each song a fantastic experience in and of itself. "Sad" is a somber yet uplifting number with a bare-boned lyrical approach. "Just One Kiss" is a very simple love song, quiet in it's longing and calm in it's delivery wiith a nice, emotive guitar solo leaving it's mark. "Shine" has a bit of a alternative country vibe, a bit of twang in it's melody and a certain stride in it's rhythm. "Sadness So Beautiful" may be the most well-written track on the album, very well paced and slow to build into a wonderful climax. All that being said, you've got an album's worth of excellent songs already, with another 6 solid tracks yet to come. That's bang for your buck, no?


Phil Lewis does so much right on Movements In Space that, taken with his latest album, I am left to wonder just why his name isn't spoken more often. It may be that the simple, laid-back approach is something that dares the listener to step inside rather than forcing itself on the masses. It's the type of sound one can come across and, if they find it meeting their expectations, feel as if it was all made just for them. As far as truly independent music goes, Movements In Space is an exhibit in the nature of DIY, eschewing expectations and trends in favor of cementing your own style and nature into an artform you know and love.

But this shouldn't reflect negatively on what is otherwise an excellent album. The bandmembers go by names such as "SL/TDB/A-O" which, frankly, I have no idea whatsoever how to interpret. There are only two lines listed for band members, but seeing as how each line is broken into segments, I cannot tell you who exactly makes up the band. But I do know that the band features a female lead singer who has an absolutely perfect voice for these nostalgic blends of classic rock. "Unending Singularity' is a precarious and ominous introduction, building and brooding at a creeping pace until "On The Wings of Gloria" rattles to sudden life with a jangling riff and pounding percussion. The twang and bend of the guitar/bass rhythm conjures up thoughts of classic surf rock, and when the vocals kick in it's like a trip through the history of rock. The track builds into a mess of effects and distortion before pacing itself for an excellent finish, a great introduction to what The Devil's Blood are all about. "Die The Death" is a much more straightforward punch of hard rock, with some vicious leads that segue into a more Skynrd-esque jam. "Within The Charnel House Of Love" is a big, bombastic piece, with some fantastic snare work during certain sections that give way to more placid bridge sections. Extremely catchy, a song that would fall right into place on classic rock radio rotations. "Cruel Lover" is pure Heart worship, with the rhythm section taking a cue from "Barracuda" while the song pushes forward admirably. Bands like Europe, Survivor, Journey, etc also come to mind here and elsewhere. Other outstanding tracks include "She" and the much darker, more fitting to their ethos likes of "The Madness of Serpents" and the slow-to-build but climatic finishing closer "Feverdance"

After a few spins you start to see the why and how of the interplay between the lyrical and spiritual underpinnings and some of the more trance-inducing, psychedelic moments of The Thousandfold Epicentre. However, you're still going to be well off not knowing all of what the band professes before giving them a listen. Not necessary to the overall impact, The Devil's Blood deliver a mostly enjoyable journey through some of rock's more historic moments over the course of 11 tracks, and break any potential monotiny with their prerogative for darker, somber and more drawn-out passages. It's hard to recommend this album to anyone in particular, but it's easy to say that everyone should give them a shot. There's a wide appeal factor, and each individual track may satisfy the tastes of many different people.   

Yes it had some style - it was well-produced, it had some good musicians on it and it was well-played. Having said that, the over-emphasis on the synthesiser was a little wearying at times. Manfred Mann may well have been one of the best keyboard players of his generation but I was never a great fan of that instrument and found that all too often it was used to cover up basic deficiencies in ability or a critical lack of creativity. I cannot lay the first charge here, given Mann's undoubted ability, so I will stick with the second. That may explain the earlier remark about Bob Dylan covers.

"You Angel You" apart, the remainder of the tracks on the album are a humdrum affair at best. "Don't Kill It, Carol" is probably the best of the remaining bunch, but although it is quite catchy it never really takes off. "Angels at My Gate" has some clever work on it but is not good enough to sustain much interest. The rest are forgettable to the extent that I don't even remember what they sound like any more. Even a track like "Waiting for the Rain" which has surfaced under a variety of other artists is lacking in memorability. It makes me wonder if I should listen to it again to see if age (mine and the album's) has improved it. Probably not, but when I have the time and the inclination, I may well give it another spin just to see.

What was lacking was a combination of style and feeling. The style was not there - this was indistinguishable from a host of other bottom feeders at a time when the sharks ruled the oceans. Feeling, well there wasn't any at all. Music has to be played with feeling to be meaningful, to distinguish it from mere sound. Without feeling, a piece of music might as well be the background thumping of a jackhammer, or the alternating pitch of a car alarm gone off. Hell, it might as well be hip-hop at its worst! The closest I can approximate it to is the ill-starred Yes album Going for the One for its combination of pop with distinct prog rock leanings. It was an unsuccessful marriage of styles at the best of times and this album does not represent the best of times.

Given my plain dislike for this album, which in many ways typifies the sort of MoR direction which music was heading to until punk shook it up, you may ask why I own this. Well, that one track, "You Angel You", was one of handful of tracks which was played in certain circumstances which hold fond memories from me. I always associate those times with those times. Oh why had downloads not been invented back in the seventies or eighties. Albums like this would not be in my collection, but songs like this would be - and probably would be listened to a whole lot more as a result.

However, the age of technology came after this album was released - long after - so that option was simply not open to me. This album just doesn't cut it any more in terms of what I listen to. In fact, I am pretty certain it never did. If it had not been for that one track I cannot see any reason why I would have got this album. Were it not for the fact that I am a near-obsessive when it comes to hoarding stuff, I would have probably got rid of it long ago.

You'll find absolute highlights in "The Calling Depths", "LCF" and "Husk of Impurity" while the rest of the album remains solid and relevant in between. Beyond the excellent and refreshing vocals, the band's next-biggest asset is their ability to shift tempos on the fly, seguing into otherwise disjointed pieces of a song in a manner as abrupt and unrelenting as a rampaging rhino. Instead of writing bridges, they just plow right over the open expanse, and it is a prerequisite to extreme metal that a band does this at least SOME of the time. 

As far as debuts go, Lvcifyre could do worse than what they've managed on The Calling Depths. Potent, enjoyable death metal of a style and substance I find enthralling. Whether or not it's your cup of tea can very much be summed up by asking yourself if you're a fan of the likes of Immolation. The similaries of pacing, tempo and tonality are eerie at times. But don't let me pigeonhole them; if you're a fan of extreme metal in general, this is one new outfit who deserves a shot.

The man behind Bathory, Quorthon, is generally regarded as being behind the so-called Viking metal genre. Now whether that is a genre in itself is open to question. Frankly, I just see Hammerheart as being a black metal concept album about Vikings, but each to his own I guess. And about Vikings this surely is, though let's be clear, we are talking the stereotypical image of Vikings, not the Vikings-as-traders-and-settlers. The opening track, probably the best in my opinion, "Shores in Flames", is about a typical Viking raid on some village somewhere, complete with lapping waves sound effects. And so it continues. "Valhalla" is a brief condensation of Snorri Sturlasson's "Elder Edda" - none too accurate I might add. The next two songs cover the passing down of tradition between the generations and "Song to Hall up High" is half ballad, half hymn. The decline of the Vikings is the theme of the penultimate track, "Home of the Once Brave" and that decline reaches its apotheosis with "One Rode to Asa Bay" as the coming of Christianity wipes out Viking culture. (I don't count the 23 seconds of "Outro" as a track).

So there you have it - a thematic and allegorical encapsulation of Viking history delivered in about one hour of music. If anything was a recipe for a complete and utter disaster, then this is surely it. That description reeks of pretension, or to put it into an alliterative, epic, skaldic metre beloved of Viking poets -

"It portends of pretentious and pompous,   promising platitudes"

And Quorthon cannot sing. He sort of stands at the back of the recording studio and shouts at the microphone some distance away. Thankfully, he doesn't growl. Additionally, there are some deep baritone choral elements and the occasional tape recorded sound effect - waves lapping against the shore, fire crackling on wood, galloping horses' hooves and babies crying. And to cap it all, there are horns, real horns, the ones which grow on cattle. (We are spared the fictitious horns which grew on the helmets of Viking warriors - mercifully).

You may be forgiven at this point for assuming that I don't like it. Yet you would be wrong. It actually gets off to a good start with a quiet guitar suddenly giving way to a thunderous bass-heavy riff. This has melodies. This has guitar solos. If you don't take this too seriously but regard it in the same way as you would regard a Hollywood movie about Vikings (heroic warriors with horns on their heads spreading mayhem rather than the closer-to-the-truth settlers in search of new lands and trade), then this can even be described as fun. Whether Quorthon intended it to be that way, I don't know, but if he did he succeeded. If he didn't, he succeeded but in a different way to that which he imagined.

This album succeeds because it can be taken as seriously or as fun as you wish. There is enough truth in here (the Viking cosmology and the coming of Christianity for example) to make it believable, but it is also backed up with some good music and accessible vocals. A scholarly examination of early medieval Scandinavian culture it is not. A good yarn set to decent music it is.

They've been around for a number of years.  Numerous placements on TV, film, commercials as well satellite radio and more.  No strangers to the NHL's Dallas Stars, who commissioned the band for their power play song.  But for those who's radar managed to miss the industrial metal band RivetHead, their latest full-length effort, Doomsday for Optimism is not a bad place to start. 

The album doesn't open as strong as I would've preferred.  "Super Zero" is a solid track but doesn't have that wow factor the band is known for.  "Deaf Ears", the second song, would've made a much better choice in my opinion.  There are more things going on in that one to keep the listener tapped in.

RH fans will notice their current sound having more of that electronic industrial leaning heard on Zero Gravity's title track from 2009.  But to be clear, there isn't any abandonment of the pure metal you've enjoyed from the rest of their catalog.  They're just reaching a little further this time, a little deeper, into their musical palette and repertoire.  They even slow things down for the contemplative "Buried Another One", an emotion-packed song dealing with loss as Steve Page sings, "Won't someone please do something, I'm falling I'm not done yet.  I'm counting back to zero."  These are lyrics that immediately remind me of many a Linkin Park chorus-not a bad thing, by the way.

"Breathe Me In" is by far, my favorite on here.  It has that I need to punch someone in the face right now-vibe.  "So sick of complacence.  Don't think I can take this."   Love it, love it, love it.  "Dreaming of Reality" definitely has the most dynamics out of all the songs, with its eerie backdrop during the quiet verses, and then the high-energy chorus to wake you up. 

I don't know if I would go as far as to say Doomsday for Optimism is RivetHead's best-to-date.  I will say, however, there aren't any fillers on here.  This is a band that takes their music seriously.  They're not afraid to grow and expand their sound either, even to the point of including the cinematic soundscape of an instrumental, "Echoes in Padded Room".  The album ends with "Turn This Up", a song telling us all that this is one band who's relentless energy isn't going anywhere any time soon.  A solid album, indeed.

Fans far and wide consider Presto to be the beginning of a new era for Rush, a transistioning back to the more natural songwriting of their earlier years, if not a full return to the same hard rocking sounds. No, what the band had experienced throughout the 80's would remain engraved in their creative spirit, a pop orientation that had gained them both a wider audience and a wider catalog of material to sift through. It's true enough that listening to a 70's, 80's and 90's Rush album makes for markedly different experiences each time. Presto, however, was the beginning of an awesome run of albums that kept the band fresh where many others may have faltered. The foundation of the 70's made this possible, but pure talent made it happen.

"Show Don't Tell" was a successful solo in it's day and stands the test of time, sounding fresh and rejuvinated through the context of the material the band was mustering up prrior. A return to the core ideals of three people writing songs made it so that Alex Lifeson, the oft-forgotten guitarist who languished in occasional oblivion throughout the Era of the Synths, drives this track and many others along with crisp runs and solid riffs. "Hand Over Fist" is a little lacking, which could be said for much of this album. The real kicker about Presto and the thing that I think keeps it from truly shining as a whole is the weak production. The bass lacks it's typical punch (both a product of the production and the choice of bass guitars Geddy Lee went with for the album) and the percussion is really flat, lessening one of Rush's most prominent and impressive elements. Despite all this, the quality of songwriting shines through on tracks like "The Pass", an emotional ballad that also did well as a single, "Scars" and Neil's utilizing of both electric and acoustic drums to formulate an African-styled melody of beats, the melodic and vocally potent title track, and the up-tempo "Superconductor", a fan favorite that gets little acclaim for how well written it is. 

An album of hit-and-miss that mostly hits, Presto would have benefited from tighter production and a little more time to flesh out certain compositions. While I'm certainly not one to nitpick, my favorite band has a track record of excellence in both production and song value and, when they don't hit on all cylinders, it's noticable. The great thing is, however, that I personally never am fully disappointed even when not fully satisfied. They always seem to manage to overcome the limitations of (rare) bad studio choices and experimentation through skill and experience. Presto was a huge step forward towards bigger and better things that held enough substance to make it worth going back to for another spin. 

It took a long time for me to get used to this, but in the end I managed it. Yes this is classic late John Watts. And it is not a bad listen as well. Just don't expect to be grabbed immediately and sit up and take notice. Listen to this a few times and get beneath the skin of it to begin to truly appreciate it. For those who are not already fans of John Watts/Fischer-Z, here is probably not the best place to start. By this time John Watts had developed a style all his own and those of us who had accompanied him on his musical journey were more familiar with it, though it still took time, frequently, to get under the skin of his albums.

Thirteen Stories High is a combination of rock and ballad in terms of overall musical styles. As is to be expected from Watts, the lyrics and the music fit together well. By this time, John Watts was becoming more personal in his music, not that the music was more autobiographical, but in the sense that it was something he wanted to write about, not that he felt the need to write about because someone or something expected it of him. This is perhaps the main reason why the idiosyncratic style Watts was adopting made it difficult for the casual listener to appreciate.

The highlight is the track "Angel of Gardenia", a magical ballad about a builder overcome by an angel and falls from a building site, only to be saved from injury by the angel. Now this, on the face of it, sounds like a really naff concept for a song, a bit cheesy and melodramatic. However, it is rescued, and indeed elevated to a fine track not only by the lyrics and the flow with which they are delivered, but also by the guitar which slowly but quietly builds into a riff which really sticks in your mind.

Of the other tracks, the pick of the bunch is probably "Loveshaker" which is another track which draws attention to itself through its harder than usual edge to the chorus. "My Brilliant Career" is interesting for the amusing look at fame - one wonders if there is any autobiographical or even wistful element in the track. The rest of the album contains some pretty useful tracks as well, but none really sticks in the mind to be memorable enough, or so you would think. Then again, occasionally I find myself humming a tune and, after a bit of effort, recognise it is from this album. The only real downside is the reprise of "Sublime" - I absolutely hate reprises.

Soon after this, John Watts went off on a bit of a tangent. The next couple of solo/Fischer-Z albums proved to be less organic musically than what had gone before. He moved towards a big beat style of music and perhaps lost his way a bit, or is that too harsh an assessment. This album therefore marks the last of his good output from the nineties.

"Appomattox" is a very impressive beginning, feeling faster than it is while relishing in a mid-paced rhythm punctuated with bright and twisting leads, the occasional shout-along vocal stab and a crushing bit of percussion. Think Mastodon by way of Kyuss tempered with the likes of Credence Clearwater Revival. "Tale of Mathias" has even more of a classic rock vibe, and tells a dark and sordid tale of a woman's revenge on her abusive, disrespectful husband. Another early standout. "A Steward's Prayer" is driven forward admirably by the guitar duo of Todd Ingram and David Kowalski, showcasing some killer hooks, thick riffs and skillful leads. Ahead of the curve of many bands of their kind. "Pistols and Penance" may be the best song on the album, and for some reason it reminds me of early Stone Temple Pilots. Maybe it's the vocal effects, maybe it's the grimy catchiness of the whole affair. With a powerful first half, Dismal Hollow rounds itself out with a slow paced epic in "The Fog" and the fantastic instrumental "Road to Eleusis".

Whether or not I'm correct in thinking so, King Giant and their record Dismal Hollow do so much more than craft a picture of fantastic stoner rock. What they do, more often than not, is cause me to remember a time when rock radio was fresh and exciting, when bands like STP, AIC, Pearl Jam, etc were consistent in their quality (this varies from band to band but most of the 90's were consistent as a whole for rock) and memorable in their hits. This is a band worth putting aside from the rest and paying close attention to. There's so much natural talent oozing from this collective that, if I had to guess, the next effort will be something to make the name King Giant household in many circles.  

The songs have a degree of elegance about them which I find lacking in other examples of the genre. Credit for that must go, almost in its entirety, to Liv Kristine who provides the soprano female vocals on the album. These combine with the harsher vocals of Raymond I. Rohonyi who has apparently toned down his growling from earlier albums. Most of his vocals are almost spoken and rarely growled. Yet, my favourite track, "Venus" is the one where he returns to growling, albeit in a less over-the-top manner than one might have become accustomed to based on other metal albums.

The quality of the vocals enable one to overlook what are sometimes rather strange pretensions. A lot of the lyrics are written in a form of sixteenth century English, a style of speech found in Shakespeare but which is now archaic - very few instances of "thou dost" instead of "you do" can be found in common usage today. For good measure, some Latin is thrown into the mix as well. But then I am not going to criticise anyone for use of a linguistic style unless they use some awful imagery or inappropriate vocabulary, which is not he case here.

The theme behind the first seven tracks of the album is powerful women. Aégis opens with "Cassandra," the Trojan prophetess who was doomed to have her prophecies ignored. A denser, slower-paced song than many, there are swirling keyboards across a simple guitar melody. "Lorelei", a siren of Germanic myth, is quicker and has a very catchy guitar riff "Angélique" (a character from the cult TV series Dark Shadows) and "Aœde" (the mythological muse of song) provide the first true glimpses of what Liv Kristine can do when she is given the freedom to do it.

"Siren" is a strong gothic-metal track with an atonal piano intro segueing into slow, sonorous guitar work which underpins the quality of the female vocals. At this point, the album is strongest, no more so than on the aforementioned "Venus", partly in Latin and partly in archaic English - a song about betrayal and the anger arising from it.

The final song in this theme, "Poppæa," takes its title from the second wife of Emperor Nero, the beautiful but scheming Poppæa Sabina. This is a heavier piece with strong riffs and an at times overpowering melody. The vocals here are perhaps the best on the album, with Kristine's soprano being backed by Rohonyi's eerie baritone. The one track which does not follow the theme, "Bacchante", is different in musical character as well. A combination of lavish music and creepy vocals which move between the deep baritone to the stark growling as the song changes tempo leading to a climax of wildly chanting choral vocals.

This album is probably the best thing Theatre of Tragedy are likely to do, having sacked Liv Kristine shortly afterwards. Without her, it is difficult to see how they could repeat this. Whether they would wish to is another matter entirely. It may be that the band feel this is the epitome of a style of metal which it would become cheesy to repeat. Whatever the case, this is one of the more interesting and accessible examples of metal and deserves a wider audience from people not familiar with the genre.

All the faves from back in the day are here, from "Legalize Freedom" "Ugly American" and "Bounce The Rubble," though the highlight is the live set, a 1983 show on KBOO. Somehow, with hardcore, what sounded like an angry sloppy mess in the studio became an angry, sloppy, GLORIOUS mess in concert. Those tracks make a worthy set a must-have.

Poison Idea never got the props of some of their more famous local rivals, but as you can tell from "Darby Crash Rides Again," they were there from the beginning and dropped the hammer as well as anyone. This is a nice reminder of the casual passion and power of that era, and of its sarcastic waste of the opportunity to really make something last.