Album Review: Misfire - "Product of the Environment"

 

A little more than three years ago, we wrote about how Misfire, on the heels of their debut full-length “Sympathy for the Ignorant,” had risen from the shadows of the defunct Diamond Plate and was poised to succeed the unfortunate Power Trip as the vanguard of thrash in America.

There was a caveat to the band’s assumed dominance though.  It rested on the principle that Diamond Plate matured for their second album, and that if Misfire hoped to hold thrash’s crown, they would have to do the same, and smooth out some of the misgivings of their debut effort.

Now, there’s a caveat to the caveat - Misfire comes armed with a new vocalist in Tim Jensen, and as such the entire color the band has been altered, at least in a small way.  Which is all a needlessly long introduction to the band’s sophomore album “Product of the Environment,” and a complicated way to say that there’s a lot of layers to this onion.

We’re going to jump to the conclusion and work backwards - “Product of the Environment” certainly smooths out some of the rough edges of “Sympathy for the Ignorant,” but not always in a positive way.  The entire experience has been streamlined and hammered into sheets, which makes for an evenly consistent delivery, but not always an exciting one.  This new record is something of a thrash assembly line - eleven variants of verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo, chorus.

That doesn’t mean that aren’t great moments.  The single “We Went Through Hell” is a personal tale, the kind of yarn that every listener can listen to and empathize with, as we’ve all been through some similar personal hell (so much so that I just used ‘yarn’ in a sentence.)  Plus, the riff is characteristic of some of the great thrash-y riffs of days gone by, in that it leaves room between the notes and phrases, letting the song breathe, rather than just throwing every rock at the window and seeing which one breaks through.

Skip all the way down to “Privacy,” and this is one of those songs were the crunchy guitar tone pays off in that old-school Megadeth way, as Tim Jensen, who even according to the band’s own press occasionally tells stories like Dave Mustaine, does just that, completing a construction that reminds of the way thrash was during its best days some forty years ago.  It’s great, and the singalong chorus even smacks a little of GWAR-style punk styling.

There are other fun parts that pop up here and there.  “Born to Die” has a great, head-nodding breakdown at the end, “End of an Age” has a cool staccato riff that bridges to the outro, and there are skillful and enjoyable solos from Kostadin Kostadinov from several other guests throughout the record.  

Still…there’s something missing here.  “Product of the Environment” has the blueprint of a thrash classic, but it’s as though the band followed the directions of the blueprint to the letter and didn’t add any flourishes.  There’s nothing here that makes one say “wow, this is Misfire!”  The album does a great job of replicating thrash from its halcyon days, making the listener remember Exodus or Slayer or Anthrax, but doesn’t draw attention back to itself once that initial job is done.

What we’re left with is an enjoyable, perfectly good thrash record from talented and experienced musicians.  It could have been great, though.  Did Misfire mature from their debut album?  Yes, this effort is a more professional, consistent experience.  It lost some of its youthful exuberance along the way, though.

Album Review: Misfire - Sympathy for the Ignorant

Every few years, there comes a band who says with confidence that they will take up the flag of thrash and carry it proudly into a new generation.  Since the turn of the millennium, multiple acts have wrested control away from their contemporaries and walked miles with the standard flying high – Warbringer, Lazarus A.D, Black Tide (okay, not all flying high,) and most recently Power Trip, just to name a few.  All of them have contributed to the thrash zeitgeist, but all have had to give up their grip on the genre for a variety of (often heart-breaking) reasons.

The flag seldom lay still for long, though.  Enter into the conversation, Misfire, a three-piece outfit based in Chicago who seems on their face to have ‘understood the assignment,’ as the kids are so fond of saying these days.

If there’s something that seems familiar about Misfire, your ears don’t deceive you – two-thirds of Misfire is made up of a band who used to vie for control of thrash, Diamond Plate.  Diamond Plate, for those who don’t recall, were part of a wave of bands that sought to usher in a youth movement in the American thrash scene and left us with two albums, the raw but respectable “Generation Why?” and the excellent, deep-grooved “Pulse,” before fading away into the recesses of memory.  In the aftermath, nine years after “Pulse” left us asking for a little more, we have the debut of Misfire, and the name of the band can’t help but strike of a little irony.

The record, “Sympathy for the Ignorant,” succeeds in that there is no feeling-out here – too often in thrash, we are presented with an artist who hasn’t quite worked out their sound yet, or who has embraced the formula of thrash without a complete understanding of why the constants in the pattern are what they are.  Conversely, from the opening strains of album starter “Fractured,” we see Misfire give us all the tricks and conventions we’re used to while displaying mastery of the form.  There is a catchy riff off the top, which introduces the tone while still leaving enough empty space for the impact of each musical phrase to mean something.  As the bass starts to reed through, the lead evolves, until eventually the engines are ignited, and now we’re off to the races.

The tone is important here.  Thrash has long been built on the proverbial buzzsaw of guitar, and while Misfire respects that, there’s more ingredients in the brew than a simple recitation of the old days when Kirk Hammett’s guitar sounded like it was made out of ground glass and aluminum foil.  Skip down to the middle of the album and “No Offense,” and while Misfire’s tone hasn’t changed, damned if this song doesn’t sound like it would have been at home on “Vulgar Display of Power.”  

That adaptability is the secret of “Sympathy for the Ignorant,” and evidence enough that Misfire has spent a lifetime studying, learning and applying lessons from the masters.  The average listener on the street might not be able to discern between thrash and groove metal, certainly not as Misfire portrays them here, but metal sommeliers will appreciate the manner in which Misfire has made a versatile blend.

While the album is easy to recommend for both thrash veterans who need a fix or the new generation of would-be thrash fans, there are some points worthy of discussion.  “Sympathy for the Ignorant” carries some dead weight.  For every mosh-ready ripper like “Red Flag” or breakdown-bearing bludgeon like “Death Trap,” there is a “He Said She Said,” an aimless banger that isn’t bad, but carries no real menace or sense of the moment.  It’s a common issue in thrash records, not at all limited to Misfire, where maintaining the speed and gravitas of the album through every track is a nigh-impossible task.  All the greats have suffered from it.

Additionally, “Sympathy for the Ignorant” doesn’t showcase the singular personality of many of the great thrash records that have come before.  Misfire doesn’t present the inherent dread of Slayer, the boisterous threat of Pantera, or even the inherent recklessness of a band like Pro-Pain; they are caught between these three things, without accentuating one of their own.  There is plenty of room for optimism, though – Diamond Plate’s debut was much the same and their sophomore effort fixed all of that.

The takeaway here is this: Misfire aims to be the next band to take up the flag for thrash and spearhead the genre for a new generation of fans.  That’s laudable in and of itself, and “Sympathy for the Ignorant,” while not perfect, is a truly worthy successor to the bands that have borne the weight this far.