Monday, March 18, 2024

Singles Roundup: Two Lzzy Hale Collabs, Cold Years, & Blues Pills

We reach into the singles bin today, and we come away with...

The Native Howl ft Lzzy Hale - Mercy
White Panda ft Lzzy Hale - What's Up?

I'm going to pair these up, because they both feature Lzzy Hale as a guest, and because they continue a narrative I think I've been hearing for a few years now. When I made my list of favorite singers of all time, Lzzy placed in the top five. I absolutely adore her voice, and you would think I would listen to her sing absolutely anything, and yet I can't help but listen to some of her recent collaborations and wonder if there isn't something going on here.

The song with The Native Howl builds from an acoustic base, while the White Panda cover is electronic and clean, and yet in both instances Lzzy is singing with more grit (and is it phlegm?) than I would expect. In the former case, it's way more than sounds appropriate for the song, and makes it a bit too awkward to love. But what is nagging at me is the sense it might not entirely be a choice.

On "Back From The Dead", Lzzy didn't do much completely 'clean' singing, and when I see footage from their live shows, she spends much of them in her gritty shout. I fear the years of doing that have either started to impact the clarity of her voice, or have made aggression the default setting in her muscle memory. In either case, it leaves me feeling that Lzzy sounds most comfortable singing her own songs, and collaborations like these often aren't as special as I would hope them to be.

Cold Years - Choke

Single number two goes further to make me think the upcoming record is indeed going to be a bit brighter and more upbeat than "Goodbye To Misery". Like the previous single, that approach (along with the thinner production) is leaving the tracks feeling a bit flimsy by comparison. There isn't enough bite to the guitars, there isn't enough power to the vocals to really hit me hard in the chest. If "Goodbye To Misery" was a pointed elbow catching me between breaths, these songs sound more like the playful fist between two friends. It's still enjoyable, but that doesn't quite compare to a viceral reaction.

Blues Pills - Birthday

I'm well aware that Blues Pills will probably never be able to match the way their debut album made me feel. That bit of vintage blues-rock was the right album at the right time, and was the perfect foil for Elin's voice. It was powerful, but with great melodies. It was timeless, but also immediate. They tried their hand at being more soulful, then trying to return to their roots, but something is missing. The first single from their upcoming record continues that trend, as it has all the right pieces, but I don't feel the right spark from it. The gutiar tone is just fuzzy enough, Elin's voice is wonderful, but the song itself doesn't lock into a groove or a hook. It sounds right, but the echo fades rather quickly. I won't judge the record from the one song, but I'm wondering why these connections for me seem to be so short-lived. It's a shame.

Friday, March 15, 2024

"There Is Nothing" Not To Love About VK Lynne

The existential philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre penned the famous line, "Hell is other people." That phrase unravels an entire lifetime of thought in just four words, but it's an incomplete thought. While he is right about that often being the case, there is a second half to the thought; If other people are on one side of the fiery river, loneliness is on the other.

Existentialism is the school of philosophy I usually ascribe to myself, perhaps because it makes it easiest to explain why for art thou existential crisis walks the halls of my mind. I'm not above having them, and to be perfectly honest, VK Lynne's third song of this year triggered a relapse of the one that dragged me down into the murky depths for a solid part of last year.

"There Is Nothing" sees VK recruit Joel Hoekstra (from countless bands) and Marco Pastorino (from Temperance) to make a big song even more massive, attempting to see if collaboration can grow talent exponentially. Art may not be math, but often the vectors are pointing in the same direction, and one and one and one can indeed make three. Wait, I haven't even gotten to the song yet and I've referenced existentialism and vector math? Good grief.

VK opens the refrain singing "there is nothing that's beautiful" anymore. It certainly can feel that way at times, and perhaps it would lead you to think I should have led off talking about nihilism instead, but that's too cynical a view even for this curmudgeon. Why? Because when you listen to VK and Marco blend their voices, there is absolutely something beautiful about the way in which people can come together to make something beyond themselves. Two great voices that mesh as if they were meant to exist together are a bit of magic, and there's nothing wrong with that magic being the only thing we feel comfortable praying to, and putting our faith in.

The world can feel like it's on fire, and none of us are able to put it out on our own, but what we can do is coat ourselves in a layer of protection. That's what art is for. If we subsume ourselves in art and beauty, we essentially wrap a candy coating around the bitter pill of life, ensuring the memories of smiles are able to survive the acid bath of our minds.

It comes as no surprise that as VK opines on the sorry state of the world, she is backed by the heaviest accompaniment of her career. The guitars are a thick soup, the kind that isn't so much angry but simply 'over it'. Likewise, it isn't until the end of the song that VK starts projecting, but even then it's with a sense of exasperation, as if it's hard to believe we are still fighting the same ugly parts of our nature without learning anything from the past.

When she talks about there being nothing worth praying for, it's as easy sentiment to understand. 'Thoughts and prayers' are constantly offered by people of faith who seem unaware of the teachings of their own God, and surely no one seems to be listening. They don't see the connection between those two points.

VK and Marco play the angel and demon of our conscience, but this time both sides are telling us the same thing; if there is going to be a happy ending, we have to make it for ourselves. And so we cycle back to existentialism, which tells us life is as we make it, that our experiences are the truth we must be most concerned with. That truth becomes easier to swallow when we have friends who care about us, who can come to our aid when we need it, and who can simply make things better by being there and not letting us feel so isolated.

That's the lesson "This Is Nothing" is imparting, at least as I see it. Even when you can do things on your own, there's something special about collaboration, about opening yourself up to the possibilities other people can bring to your ideas. VK could have recorded this song on her own, but Marco's voice and Joel's guitar solo add elements and textures that feel necessary, and that remind us the way we're feeling is more universal than we often realize. When the chorus comes in, and the melody has an oddly soothing effect, it's very much an assurance that the human experience is shared, we just get so wrapped up in ourselves we forget that fact.

Collaboration can sometimes be cheap stunt-casting to get undeserved attention, but that's not what's going on here. The difference is clear when you bring in someone who shares your vision and wants to help you bring your vision to life. Those are friends, the kind it's rare to find. I say that from experience, since I'm not sure how many I've ever had. And there's that existential crisis again.

As Barney Stinson put it on 'How I Met Your Mother'; "Whatever you do, it isn't legendary unless your friends are there to see it."

That's why some of us are forgotten in our own time, as if our stories are written in the sand minutes before the next high tide rolls in, while others are painting thick memories of pink through our grey matter. Legend.... wait for it.... dary indeed.


"There Is Nothing" releases on March 22nd. Pre-save it here.

Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Quick Reviews: New Years Day & Dragonforce

A couple of albums worth noting this week that I don't have a whole lot to say about.

New Years Day - Half Black Heart

I liked their last album quite a bit, even though it was a bit crazy. There were elements I found weird and difficult to listen to, but half of the record was remarkably good at blending super heavy modern metal with pop choruses. They were being daring, and even though it didn't always work, it was never boring. So you would think the band narrowing their focus, and delivering an entire album of good songs would be just what I want, right?

Well, no, actually. The funny thing is that by focusing on consistency, the songs aren't allowed to venture off to where the sparks of cool ideas might be found. The album sounds a bit too one-note to have the same impact, and at times it's hard to tell one song from the next. It's all good stuff, and I enjoy the album, but it feels like the band is playing it safe, when it was their boldness that appealed to me in the first place.

I often wonder if higher highs or more consistency makes for the better record. In this case, the answer is clear; "Half Black Heart" is a good listen, but a less exciting one.

Dragonforce - Warp Speed Warriors

I talked about it in a Singles Roundup, but let's get it out of the way early; the cover of "Wildest Dreams" that closes the record is the worst song I've heard all year. It's absolutely terrible, and shows me that being a good musician sometimes means you're a terrible artist. In fact, that cover is so bad it's changed the way I hear Dragonforce's original material. Instead of being cheesy fun that I discard because I'm looking for something more serious, I hear the limitations of just how ineffective Dragonforce is even at the things they're trying to do.

Once I heard Marc Hudson trying to sing "Wildest Dreams", the flatness of his voice, the utter lack of anything even approaching an emotion, became all too clear. Dragonforce speeds through their songs because they know they have to hide how hollow they are. They can't convey emotion, half of their songs are about things like space stations and axe swinging, so there's almost nothing here for me to feel any sort of affection for. Even when there's a decent hook, which isn't as often as it should be, the band sounds like they're just going through the motions of hitting notes.

As I said before, Taylor Swift gets a lot of flack for not being the most talented vocalist, but she sounds like she gives a damn. Dragonforce doesn't, and if they can't sound like they care, then I have no reason to care either. That's simple music math.

Monday, March 11, 2024

Album Review: Whom Gods Destroy - Insanium

About a decade ago, my Album Of The Year was by a supergroup, and was called "Kaleidoscope". That comes to mind right now, because much of the rock and metal scene feels like a kaleidoscope, where we turn the handle and the same pieces get moved into different places to form new images. It seems like we are always hearing about new band and projects with familiar names being paired together in new ways. That can be frustrating, since it leaves us always wondering if any of these things are going to last long enough to justify us caring in the first place.

Whom Gods Destroy is a 'supergroup' offshoot of another 'supergroup'. Basically, they are the successors to Sons Of Apollo, after that band essentially broke up upon Mike Portnoy's return to Dream Theater. Bumblefoot and Derek Shirinian continue on with this band, playing a modern metal of the same style, but with Dino Jelusick taking over the vocal reigns from Jeff Scott Soto. That lets them actually go further in the modern direction, which can be both the biggest strength and weakness of this group.

The opening song is the first one released to tease this group, "In The Name Of War". It does what it's supposed to, marrying the band's deep, down-tuned groove to a chorus with a more melodic shine. It's rightly similar to Sons Of Apollo's shorter songs, and is absolutely what the band should be focused on. Those tracks fit the modern vibe of Bumblefoot's riffing, and they also void their tendency to get lost in notes without finding a song.

But that modernity is also a downfall. Take the second song released, "Over Again", for example. It has the same sludgy groove in the guitars, but Dino spends the verses barking in monotone, only for the chorus to have barely a melody at all. The song is so concerned with sounding heavy that it reduces one of their best assets to a role anyone could fail just as equally at. Dino is a great singer, but you wouldn't know it listening to this song. The songwriting is non-existent, leaving it sounding like tuneless prog without any of the supposedly 'intelligent' playing.

There is one other song of that kind on the record, "Crucifier", and together they are the clear nadirs of the album. I struggle to hear what in those songs I'm supposed to be enjoying, since there isn't a melody I can hum to myself, and the riffs are rhythms that remind me of typing equations into a calculator. It just doesn't feel very... musical.

The rest of the album avoids that fate, but it doesn't do a lot to elevate itself above merely being fine. The style of guitar playing doesn't lend itself to the kinds of riffs that stick in my head, and Dino winds up rasping his way through many of the songs to enough of a degree that the melodies are harsher than they should be. Ten percent less effort spent on trying to be as heavy as possible would have made this whole thing sound far more inviting, at least to me.

Ultimately, Whom Gods Destroy has made a record that's perfectly fine, but not very exciting. It comes across to my ears as if it's trying way too hard, and ultimately that's what leaves it feeling like a disappointment. There's a degree to which I think the band might have been afraid to write more accessible songs, lest people think they aren't metal enough, and I'm having trouble getting past that thought. Sons Of Apollo was a flawed band, and not all the right lessons were learned when they morphed into this group. There's enough here to be mildly enjoyable, but I think the highs of Sons Of Apollo being higher made that group far more interesting.

Friday, March 8, 2024

Singles Roundup: Anette Olzon, Orden Ogan, The Wonder Years, & Black Country Communion

Let's reach into the grab bag once again:

Anette Olzon - Heed The Call

Despite the consistency of some of the factory writers, there are obviously going to be highs and lows when you're pumping out as much music as they do. For some reason, Anette Olzon seems to get the weakest material Magnus Karlsson has to offer. Her previous solo album was decent, but much less melodic and hooky than either of the records she made with Russell Allen, for instance. This song is hinting at another album in that style, with Anette being given a fairly weak chorus to sing, while the rest of the song is trying to be far heavier than her voice would indicate.

The inclusion of harsh vocals is the biggest sticking point. Anette has a special voice, and I simply don't understand why Magnus and the label would want to take attention away from her on her own album. People would be listening to an Anette Olzon album to hear Anette Olzon, so give us more of her doing what she does best. Songs like this aren't suited to her as well as a song like "Cold Inside" off the first Allen/Olzon record. Give us an album of this, it might be Album Of The Year. This is mostly disappointing.

Orden Ogan - My Worst Enemy

I'll give Orden Ogan credit for one thing; it's a bit daring for a metal band to make the first single for their album a ballad. It I've learned anything listening to people who proclaim themselves 'metalheads', it's that they hate ballads. Maybe the band has realized the same thing I have, which is that their records have become more and more interchangeable over the years, so they needed to do something to make this one stand out from the rest. In that respect, it does.

What they have going for them is that they are good writers of ballads, so this song is more engaging to me than another of their chugging stompers. Those are fun, but they have so many that sound too much alike at this point. This ballad, however, is able to build up from its slow start. By the time the guitars kick in for the crescendo, I'm buying in. Perhaps this strategy is already working.

The Wonder Years - Year Of The Vulture

Even though "The Hum Goes On Forever" won Album Of The Year from me, it was mostly on the strength of five or six songs, and the rest of their catalog has yet to grab me. That's what I'm feeling when I hear this new single, which has all the right elements, but for whatever reason doesn't grab me in quite the same way. I think it's because the song is stripped down to the bare essentials, it doesn't have enough time to develop the connection I'm looking for. It comes and goes quickly, and without the hook and energy to serve as a stand-alone single. It's a song I feel would work better as an album track connecting a couple of heavier hitters, but that's not how it's presented, so I can't judge it thusly. Or, The Wonder Years might be one of those one-album-wonder bands for me.

Black Country Communion - Stay Free

I never got into this 'supergroup' (Have I mentioned enough over the years how much I hate that term?), and this song makes me glad I wasn't waiting for them to return. Between Glenn Hughes being 'the voice of rock', and Joe Bonamassa being a blues-rock legend, what led them to make a song that sounds more like a funky disco track? It's a bizarre little number, boasting an almost dance beat, little muscle, and nothing of interest for Glenn to sing. It almost sounds like they were trying to rehab the image of "I Was Made For Loving You", but don't have a fraction of the songwriting talent KISS had. That's saying something, because I don't exactly have much respect for KISS. This is one to avoid.

Wednesday, March 6, 2024

Quick Reviews: Art Of Anarchy & Mick Mars

We can knock these out quickly:

Art Of Anarchy - Let There Be Anarchy


Three albums and three different singers is not a good sign for a 'band' actually being a band. Yes, circumstances get in the way of the best laid plans, but Art Of Anarchy has now given us three albums that sound almost nothing alike, aside from a penchant for rather scratchy guitar tones. This time around, Jeff Scott Soto takes his place at the front of the band, giving the band an identity inextricably tied to Sons Of Apollo, which I could say is either a brilliant move, or a sign of desperation.

I mention that band because with Soto singing, and Bumblefoot playing guitar, there is more than light similarities between the two. Art Of Anarchy now sounds like a slightly less prog version of that band, leaning more into the heavier sludge-style riffs Bumblefoot is fond of. And of course, Soto's voice is an unavoidable similarity. They have built in an audience of people who were fond of that band, but since they have gone on hiatus due to never really catching fire, are there really enough people out there looking for a replacement?

I'm not sure, but here's the thing; Art Of Anarchy actually improves the formula. I'm not sure if it's the lack of need to be prog, or the people who are not here this time, but Bumblefoot and Soto use the same formula to write better and catchier songs with this band. They are heavy and menacing, but replete with enough hooks to appeal to those of us who aren't impressed by how low you can tune a guitar. Soto, in particular, hasn't been on an album with this many good melodies in a long time that he had more than a minor hand in writing.

I'm surprised to say it, but they have delivered a good album. I don't think it has the same hazy charm as the debut, but there's no doubt this is a better option than Scott Stapp was.

Mick Mars - The Other Side Of Mars

Here's an album that has been talked about for years and years, and perhaps is only seeing the light of day because of all the drama surrounding Motley Crue. Let's just say I'm glad I was never a fan of that band, so I didn't have any affection or respect for them to lose. I suppose I was interested in this record to hear if Mick was indeed the best part being held back, or perhaps it's because of his chocie of collaborator.

I expected a bigger name, but Mick made this record with Jacob Bunton, who is best known to me as the person responsible for the album that made Steven Adler a tolerable presence. I love that record, so perhaps lightning could strike twice.

It doesn't quite, and it's because this is a rather odd little record. For one thing, I expected a lot more guitar playing on a solo album from a guitar player. Mick's riffs are simple stomps, his solos are rather infrequent, and there's even a fair amount of piano. He's very much sounding like the support to Bunton, and not the other way around. That would actually work for me if the songs consistently delivered, but they don't.

With the heavier approach to the guitar playing, there are a few songs where there isn't room for a strong melody, and when you combine that with the rather bland ballad, that's forty percent of the record that disappoints. The good songs are actually really good, and are certainly better than anything Motley Crue could pull out of their asses these days, but four good songs isn't enough for me recommend a record. This had the potential to be great, but it's another tale of 'what could have been'.

Monday, March 4, 2024

Words, Words, Words...

I find it interesting how different the person I am and the writer I am can be. As a person, I'm quiet and tend to say things as succinctly as possible. As a writer, I draw things out with strings of metaphors that often hide the thing I'm trying to say from being understood by anyone other than myself.

But why is this?

I know why I became a writer, but how I became one is a different story. Words and writing were not something I grew up having a pronounced interest in, and it was flippant jokes that led me to start writing both lyrics and prose. I like to say it was spite, but if I'm being honest, I think there was a part of me that was curious to see if people would admit they were wrong when I failed at the task.

Then I didn't exactly fail.

Where did all of these words come from? That's the question I've always found rather hard to answer, but maybe it wasn't as difficult as I had made it out to be. When I think about my younger days, as I was still gestating the idea of becoming a creative type, the most formative voices in my head were the kind that threw a lot of words at the wall to see what stuck.

Jim Steinman was never concise with his writing. He penned long, languid lines that took a full breath to get to the end of. Some of his lyric sheets look like short stories, so from my very early days I was being taught songs could, or even should, say as much as possible. There was a degree to which it resembled the writings of the beat generation, who used torrents of words to capture the manic energy of the lives they wanted to lead. You could say something in a mere sentence, but it would never mean as much as overwhelming people with the magnitude of what you were thinking or feeling.

Next came John Popper. Anyone who has tried to sing the bridge of "Hook" at karaoke knows what I'm talking about here. Whether it's "But Anyway" ripping through lyrics so fast you don't realize he's talking about toilet seats and puns about the past, or "Optimistic Thought" sounding like the tape may have been accidentally sped up a bit too much during the mixing stage, or especially the lines in "Business As Usual" I've never been able to get my tongue to spit out, Popper's songs were similarly filled with words atop words.

Then I found Elvis Costello, who was the angry young literate of the new wave. Going through his early records is an experiment in songwriting, as he tells stories, tells jokes, and seems unconcerned with the very idea of how many lines and syllables a verse should have. He was purging his mind to a collection of chords, and the more you say the smarter people assume you to be. Was "Oliver's Army" astute criticism of Thatcher-era England? I don't know, but I do know verbosity is the reason his off-handed use of slurs, not to mention writing a song actually called "Two Little Hitlers" was able to sneak by the good taste of some of us.

Words let us hide in plain sight, and perhaps that is the lesson I took from these writers more than anything else. If you say too much, people won't be able to pick up on what the most important parts are. You can be honest about things you're uncomfortable sharing, and only a select few people will know what you have even said. That's the beauty of metaphor, and what I think writing has given me; the ability to feel like I'm talking without ever saying anything.

As I have shared my writings with people, and looked for collaborators to help me where my voice fails, there is one bit of feedback I get more than anything else; My words are deep, but too voluminous. When I have sent demos of songs to singers, they often ask me how they are supposed to sing that many words in the space I have given them. Even when the language is lovely, it's daunting.

I tend not to even notice this, as a youth spent miming to all of those songs filled with so many words has inured me to how unusual it can be for everyone else. So much of popular music features words that are dull, repetitive, and sometimes barely there at all. We train our voices to sing short lines where there is time to stretch each note for dramatic effect. Much of it is built on the power of the voice, rather than the movement of the melody. Maybe that is just the difference between songs written for the singer, as opposed to being written for the writer. It's hard to say.

The point is merely to say that we often are more profoundly influenced by the music we hear than we might think. Thought it doesn't happen at the conscious level, musical grammar does seep in and direct us toward the way we hear future music. For me, that meant I was put in a position where words became one of the most important pieces of songs. I was listening to music with so many of them, they couldn't be ignored without losing a huge chunk of the song.

That helps to explain not just why I write the way I do, but also why I listen the way I do. I find myself disappointed so often in the music I'm hearing, because there are either few words, or there is little care that was given to them. When these writers are churning out generic words that neither say anything interesting, nor say it in an interesting way, it's difficult for me to find the whole product interesting.

So no matter how much people might find fault in my writing, or not understand how to use it to express something in themselves, I think I would rather fall on the side of doing something interesting. That means I'm destined to have an audience of one, but I wonder if there's much to be proud of in being the master of telling people what they already know.

I'm either too proud, or too stupid, to find out if that success is worth mashing my soul into the cookie-cutter.

Friday, March 1, 2024

Album Review: Bruce Dickinson - The Mandrake Project

It's been nineteen years since Bruce Dickinson last released a solo album, and I've spent nearly all of that time being the contrarian who says the 'trilogy' he ended with are better than anything Iron Maiden has ever done. Yes, I do say that honestly. The music Bruce and Roy Z were making was heavier than Iron Maiden, as intellectual as Iron Maiden, and less prone to the wordy fits of non-melody Steve Harris sometimes gets caught up in. They boiled down everything that is great about classic heavy metal, updated it with a thick and modern sound, and just wrote some great songs.

Can they do it again all these years later? That's why an album like this is interesting even before we start listening to it. Capturing that magic is probably an impossible task, so what they need to do is find a new entry point to greatness. Bruce's songs have mostly (I'll never understand what is so great about "Empire Of The Clouds" other than it dragging on forever) been the best material on the Iron Maiden records, but writing two or three songs every five years is different than seeing through an entire album. That's especially true when the album is a larger conceptual work with a whole graphic novel to go along with it. Bruce is taking on a task with a high risk of failure.

The album opens with "Afterglow Of Ragnarok", which is a bridge between the past and the present. Roy's riffs have a deep and thick tone, heavy with the chunk and groove that makes Bruce's solo music sound so different from Iron Maiden. It's a mid-paced thumper that lets Bruce build the drama into the sturdy chorus. As a song that could have fit right on "Tyranny Of Souls", it's a fine opener, until the small dose of harsh vocals at the end sounds like they're trying too hard.

"Rain On The Graves" is the counterpoint to that track, easily the worst song on any of these Bruce/Roy collaborations. The spoken word verses are cringe-worthy, and then the chorus barely escapes the old Iron Maiden repetition. It's a weak composition all the way around, and truly sounds to me like a song that was written with the comic book in mind, which is not how an album should be made. It sort of works in the context of the music video, where Bruce is hamming it up like a silent horror movie from the early days of cinema, but that doesn't come across when you're listening to the music by itself. What you have is a legendary vocalist talking over a couple of mediocre riffs. It's a massive misstep.

Another misstep is the production. This has happened with other older artists, and it leaves me wondering if all the years spent on stage and in the studio has damaged their hearing more than anyone wants to admit. This record doesn't sound very good, to be honest. Compared to the previous records Bruce and Roy have made together, this one sounds smaller, sort of hollow, and a bit lo-fi. There's less crunch to the heavy guitars, there's no depth at all to the mix, and occasionally Bruce's voice gets far too much echo put on it. It sounds like a record that was recorded and mixed by people who are missing frequencies from their hearing, and it makes me sad. Two decades later, records should be sounding even better. And yet, when "Fingers In The Wound" tries to have keys behind the guitars, there's no room at all for them, and the sound is a flat mess of noise I can't decipher.

Bruce also seems to have learned the wrong lesson from his main gig. This album ends with three long, slow ballads in a row. Each one overstays its welcome a bit for how much melody they contain, but the three of them in succession means this record is friction that laughs at the conservation of momentum. It's the same effect "Senjutsu" suffered, with it's three ten-minute epics stacked at the end of the double record. This album would certainly end on a better note if it didn't drag out the farewell for so long.

I feel like I need to grade this record on a curve. Since it is following up three of my favorite metal records of all time, holding it to that standard feels unfair. There are no songs here like "Book Of Thel", "Darkside Of Aquarius", or "Tyranny Of Souls", and I don't think I was expecting there to be. That said, the songs have a way of sneaking up on you, where even the slow recitation of "Face In The Mirror" eventually winds up capturing your attention. The good songs here are quite good, but they have to pull up the first bit of sagging bloat Bruce and Roy have given to us.

Taken entirely on its own without context, "The Mandrake Project" is actually a good record that has grown on me a fair bit since my first listen. It may not be a year-end favorite kind of record, but the songs get better every time I revisit them. The problem is that records don't exist without context, and when I listen to "The Mandrake Project", I can't help but think about how terrible the first impression it made was, which only highlighted the fact this is not those records I have two decades of attachment to. Knowing I had to warm up to it, which again I will remind you I have, means I will always remember that initial disappointment.

I'm the person who has been wanting this solo record more than more Iron Maiden albums, and if I'm telling you this album is not the easiest thing to swallow, take that as a warning. Anytime I think about the word 'mandrake' when it comes to music, Edguy's record is going to remain the default.

Wednesday, February 28, 2024

Album Review: Firewind - Stand United

As time wears on, it has become apparent to me that Firewind was a 'one and done' type of band for me. I absolutely love "The Premonition", and that has become the only Firewind album I ever find myself going back to. The others Apollo sang on are still good, but I never feel drawn to them, and I have been unable to get into anything since he left. That's probably on me, rather than them, but it's disappointing when a record you feel is doing something special turns out to be the outlier in a more generic timeline.

Maybe that's what bothers me so much about Firewind these days. Gus G gets talked about as being a guitar hero, but I don't quite know why. He's a talented player, but what music has he made that is inspiring the next generation of guitar players? Firewind isn't that big of a band, most of his playing fits into the generic style of power metal, and he wasn't even allowed to write a single riff when he played with Ozzy. I don't get it.

It also annoyed me when Apollo first left that Gus wrote an entire album with his producer, rather than with the band. That move really made it clear Firewind is almost a solo project with more name value than Gus has on his own.

So now we come to the new album, where I think the reaction will come down to what I'm calling a very 'love it or hate it' voice in Herbie Langerhans. I can absolutely understand how people will hear him as an aggressive singer who makes Firewind sound harder and heavier than ever before, but his style of grit being performed at that register is uncomfortable to my ears. He was ok on Avantasia records as a guest star, but listening to him for an entire record becomes an endurance test for me. I have a thing with singers. What can I say?

The songs themselves are fine enough power metal, trying to balance the desire to be heavier than average with the need to remain melodic. "The Power Lies Within" manages the feat of marrying a stomping Sabbath-esque riff with the hookiest chorus on the record. If they could do that time and again, they would be doing something well worth hearing. That style is far more interesting than the paint-by-numbers power metal songs, which can't be salvaged by Gus' playing. I've never been that interested in guitarists who can throw a hundred notes into eight bars of a solo, and Gus has a tendency to use speed to cover up the fact he's not playing a hummable melody.

All of this is to say that Firewind is moving in the right direction, but it isn't the way I'm headed. This record is certainly an improvement over what I remember of their recent work, and power metal fans should eat this stuff right up. There are plenty of solid songs, and the record does what it aims to do. As I said before, I'm never going to be able to be as positive as perhaps I should, simply because I don't enjoy the actual sounds the record is giving us. If there was a different voice singing these songs, I would be telling you this could wind up being the one power metal record that seems to always sneak onto my year-end list. However, I can't say that with any degree of honesty.

Don't let my hangup stop you, though. If you want to hear power metal doing what power metal does, but done well, give the record a try. I can note the difference between being good and being good for me. Maybe the line will be thinner for you.

Monday, February 26, 2024

Album Review: The Requiem - A Cure To Poison The World

Apparently, there has been an emo revival I haven't been made fully aware of. I was never an emo, and I wasn't really listening to that stuff during its heyday, but I've found in recent years it has been a nice way of washing out the bitter taste of how rock music has been moving away from my tastes. The Requiem is part of this revival, and this record is a nostalgia bomb for anyone who remembers the days of AFI and My Chemical Romance making it cool to be a drama geek.

This record is basically a fusion of "Sing The Sorrow" and "The Black Parade", with plenty of gang vocals and furiously strummed guitars, and a singer who could easily take the lead on a stage production of the latter of those albums. The difference is that by being influenced by those records, The Requiem is narrowing the focus to the lessons that have been learned. At only 36 minutes, they have distilled their songwriting into bursts of energy that are less concerned with setting the stage than in killing once they're on it.

The Requiem has managed to find the knife's edge where they are writing hooky sing-alongs that remain music for outsiders. There is a pop element to how infectious these songs become with repeated listens, but you'll never mistake them for being pop. The band is too cool to remain anything but uncool, in the mainstream sense. What they do is give those of us who look back fondly on that time a fix of what used to be, and what rock seldom is anymore.

"Cursed" is one of the best songs I've heard so far this year, a true emo anthem, but it's far from the only great song here. Whether the band is pulling from their punk roots, or wringing the anguish from a ballad, they deliver the hooks and melodies that remind us most outsiders would like to be invited in, although on our own terms.

When wallflowers slink back into the shadows, it's because there is something comforting about being wrapped up in a color that matches your mood. The Requiem paint their songs with the cheap bottle dye and dollar-store eyeliner that tries to cover up the color in our lives. It makes us feel better about not being the extroverts using the spotlight as if it provides the Vitamin D we all need, but it's not enough for us to forget that there are still people underneath the masks we apply.

All of that is a way of saying that there's something comforting about this record I think needs to be felt for yourself, rather than explained through my tortured metaphors. "A Cure To Poison The World" is the sort of record that will appeal to anyone who thinks melodrama is the only kind of drama, and who like downbeat music just for the joke of it matching their outlook on life.

The Requiem have given us an utterly charming record that gives me some faith that I haven't yet reached the point of being so jaded as to hate everything. I can't help but love this record for everything it is, everything it reminds me of, and the fact it can actually get me to crack a smile. Will it be the best album of the year? Time will tell, but right now it might just be the best record I've heard so far.

What's the world come to when emo is the happy highlight?