The Rock Culture... Of Decay

Has the rock and metal world always been secretly regressive?

I know we think of it as being music for outsiders, music that promoted individuality and embracing ones weirdness, but that's not really what it ever was. There has always been a much darker vein running through rock history, and it's only on occasion that it shines in the light where it becomes too obvious to ignore.

I'm asking this, because my recent experiences talking to other fans has made me doubt how many people associated with the music, both in the industry and as fans, care about anyone or anything beyond themselves.

This stems from my assessment of the first half of the year, and my once again mentioning how much Serious Black pissed me off with their song, "Out Of The Ashes". That track, on an album called 'deeply personal' by the band, sees the lyrics calling a woman a 'fucking whore' who is nothing to look at without her makeup, all because she chose to step out and leave the guy who comes across as feeling entitled to her devotion because he spent money on her.

If that's the way he treats her when he's angry, is it any wonder why she would leave?

Some other fans were not only unbothered by the language, they cheered how it pissed off 'the woke'. Further inquiry led down a path of political discussion, wherein it became clear that the attitudes cheered in the song, and espoused by the fans of it, are those of domination and humiliation.

The key takeaway was that anyone offended by this song should just shut up and live with it. So what if it espouses a hateful attitude toward women, wherein the songwriter feels entitled to slut-shame her because she didn't want to be with him anymore? So what if anyone who knows the members of the band could figure out who the song was about, and possibly harass her to her face? So what if the song is yet another example of toxic and hateful speech hanging in our culture, affecting us in subconscious ways we can't understand?

As long as the man giving off strong incel vibes feels better, everyone else is unimportant.

I raised the question at the time the song came out as a single, as to exactly how everyone through the band, production, label, and PR, all had no qualms whatsoever with this language. Now that the record has been out for months, and both critics and fans have not raised a single issue with it that I have seen, I'm left asking a different question; what the hell is wrong with us?

There's a direct line we can draw between this language and concrete action. When such misogynistic language is widely accepted, it's no wonder society has turned regressive and tried to curtail women's rights. When ridiculing 'the woke' engenders cum-stained high fives, it's no wonder LGBTQ people are being targeted in almost every sense.

Serious Black are nobodies, and their song isn't going to have any impact. Practically no one is going to hear it, so I'm not worried about damage being done. But it's indicative of the larger issue, and how we are not doing enough to be accepting of everyone, of treating everyone with respect, of demanding better of ourselves.

But this isn't a unique story, or even a new one. To this day, one of the most prominent radio personalities in the rock world still brings Ted Nugent on his show, and laughs with him as though he's everyone's 'funny uncle', despite him having written a song about raping a child.

The so-called 'glory days' were never that. While white men were being lifted up and brought out of the shadows by the power of rock, Nugent and Jimmy Page were allegedly having relationships with underage girls. They were viewed as idols regardless, and even now are legends, despite being what we would today call sex offenders. That isn't even to mention groupie culture, where rock stars were celebrated for treating women as a commodity, but the women were never afforded that same respect if they assembled quite the roster of conquests. The 80s were no better, when Motley Crue and many of the other hair bands spent the entire decade treating women as nothing but sex objects, even though so many of them were stealing hair and makeup looks from those very women. In the 90s, Courtney Love got blamed for Kurt Cobain's decisions, just like how Yoko Ono got blamed for breaking up The Beatles.

It's clear these strains of thought have always been present, but at least we can say they weren't fighting against a more tolerant culture at the time. As we have evolved, and hopefully become better, much of the music world hasn't. What were once whispers have become screams, what was once rumor has become a proud fact.

And here I sit, disheartened by how few people in the scene give a damn about anyone but themselves, by how many can laugh at how casually demeaning language gets thrown around, by how open and downright proud some of these people are of their toxicity.

A while back, I lamented that it was getting to be impossible to be both a music fan and a good person. As I watch the continued acceptance of this garbage, I have not been dissuaded of my initial point. I don't know if I want to call myself a fan, if these are the sorts of people it lumps me in with.

Album Review: Blind Channel - Lifestyles Of The Sick & Dangerous

Linguistics are fun, but sometimes you walk into things with the wrong expectation because of them. In a race to be original, words are put together that either shouldn't be, or don't belong. So while I give Blind Channel credit for labeling their music as 'violent pop', I know even before listening to their album that I'm not really going to get that. There isn't any way for music to really be violent, and what they mean is that they are intending to blend pop hooks with a heavier, dirty rock sound. That sounds like it should be an appealing blend, but when it turns out to not be 'violent', I'm going to have to say the band's bluster is a notable failure.

"Opinions" opens the album with a rap cadence and a not-quite trap beat, which doesn't blend all that smoothly into the heavier rock chorus. That part of the song is nice, but the way the title is sung initially caught my ear as repeating the word 'penis' instead. Laughing at a song that isn't trying to be funny isn't the best of starts, but that's where I was.

"Dark Side" has the same blend of hip-hop and alternative metal, but this time with a verse featuring vocals that emulate a barking dog. It's another cringe-worthy moment that makes me laugh, and it certainly doesn't sound the least bit 'violent' to my ears. I suppose cartoons can be violent, but this is more an anvil falling on Wile E Coyote's head than it is a realistic looking bit of blood and gore.

"Don't Fix Me" ups the energy, which is a welcome change of pace, but then the rapid-fire lyrics make reference to Miley Cyrus, and I wonder why they want to tie their music down to a certain moment in time like that. One of my favorite prog epics did the same thing by including a lyric about Britney Spears, and despite her ability to stay in the public eye, the song sounds like a relic because of it. Blind Channel's album threatens the same thing before we even get to the halfway point.

By then, the album's pattern is clear. Personally, I get absolutely nothing out of the rhythms of the verses, so there isn't enough in these songs to appeal to me. Sometimes a hook can be so good I'll overlook parts of a song I would otherwise have a problem with, but these songs don't reach those heights. The choruses are pretty good, but they aren't at a level where they can elevate a song. If this was more standard rock music, they would make for a perfectly fine album. But being constructed the way these songs are, I can't give very high marks.

Blind Channel falls into that category of bands who sell us something they can't deliver. When I read the description of what they were trying to do, I was intrigued. When I listened to what it actually entailed, I was not entertained. Set expectations low, and you can always clear the bar. Blind Channel didn't heed that advice, and because of it, this album is a chore to listen to.

Heading "Straight On Till Morning" For Twenty-Five Years

The first CD I ever owned was "Four". I remember walking into the now defunct store in the local plaza, looking through the racks of CDs on the shelf, and finding that electric green cover imprisoned in the hard plastic shell albums were kept in back then. My neighbor had played the album so many times when we would work up the nerve to do a backflip on his large trampoline, with "Way To Fall" being about as apropos a song as could be for that purpose. It was already tied to good times, and even if I wouldn't understand the record until much later, those years were filled with countless replays, especially of "Hook".

When it was finally time for the follow-up, the first hints came in the form of "Carolina Blues", which was not at all what a casual listener such as myself was expecting. There was almost no blues to be found on "Four", despite the band's name, which led me to feel a bit betrayed when the cyclical lyrics of the song tried to show me the roots of the band's sound. It was an odd choice for a single, which makes complete sense to me now, and it set up the band's conflict between trying to be themselves and trying to generate another hit to sustain their success.

"Most Precarious" was that attempt, which many people see as pandering to the charts by attempting to re-write "Run Around". The song would never become a hit, which would be a theme moving forward, but it did serve as the tying thread between the two albums I could use to find my way into this bigger, more varied world.

Success often allows for indulgence, and that's what this record was all about. They explored the blues, going furthest with the closing "Make My Way", a dirty and bitter song that seriously tested the patience of those who wanted to hear more 'three minute ditties' from the band. To this day, it joins "Mountain Cry" in their catalog as songs I have never connected with on any level. I wanted the hooks, if you pardon the pun, and the quirkiness that made Blues Traveler stand out from the others.

That would reveal itself in short order. "Felicia" spit out rapid-fire lyrics over a bouncing groove I still can't quite label. No one besides John Popper would write a line about his 'coy facade of vast indifference'. That was perfectly in line with the way he talked in "Hook" about if he were to 'sing with inflection'. They are both lines that require you to pay attention, to know a bit more about language than much of the monosyllabic lyricism that filled the short and snappy melodies of the pop charts. What would you expect from someone who wrote "Sweet Pain" referencing Cyrano De Bergerac?

"Psycho Joe" would be an eye-opener, not just because it told the story of a criminal being executed, but for being the first time I ever heard the term 'shiv-shank'. What did you learn from the music you were listening to at the age of thirteen? I learned those terms, I learned I could not keep pace with Popper's lightning quick lyrics in the second verse of "Business As Usual", and I learned albums can be quite messy affairs.

While "Four" held together with attitude and production, "Straight On Til Morning" was a universe expanding in every direction, an album in the same sense a lifetime of photographs from different places and times are when put on the same sheets of paper. Loving one song meant nothing about the next, and figuring out whether you loved the album required a slide-rule for the math. "Four" was an easy album to form an opinion on, whether you wanted the context behind it or not. This time, though, was an entirely different beast.

To this day, I'm still not sure if I know how I feel about the album. There are times when I think it's the best thing Blues Traveler ever made, and there are other times when I grow beyond frustrated with the few tracks I hear veering too far from the center. Maybe getting this record at the age I did, and having years to absorb what I was hearing, gave me perspective on the ways music could surprise, challenge, and disappoint. This album did all three of those things, and still does.

It's funny for me to look back at this record now, and to note how much a seriously flawed album is still a part of me. There are so many albums today I listen to that I would easily say are better as a whole, yet they don't make the same kind of impact on me. Many of them slough away with the slightest breath blowing on them, and yet many of these songs are indelible. This isn't "Peter Pan", and I'm not saying this lost boy will never grow up, but some feelings never age. Maybe that's the lesson I'm supposed to take from all this.

Album Review: Rxptrs - "Living Without Death's Permission"

It’s been a while since the British metal scene produced a band that felt poised to make real marks on the worldwide metal scene.  The One Hundred certainly had a moment, but then that all fell apart.  Evile and Orange Goblin have both been standard bearers in their turn, but both are coming up on two decades of service (and more.)  So it is with some excitement that Bristol natives Rxptrs come on the scene with their album “Living Without Death’s Permission.”

Much like so many recent metal luminaries, Rxptrs succeeds as a product of genre bending, and a comfortable sense of when the music needs to reach outside the margins to create the proper aural image.  It’s a skill that comes with no small amount of bravery, as fans of the respective genres often balk at a crossover and being something less ‘pure.’

Which is, of course, bullshit.  But there it is.  To illustrate the kind of blending we’re talking about, consider the song “The Death Rattle,” which calls to mind just a little big of the swing of fellow Commonwealth members The Living End, who in turn were inspired by The Stray Cats.  The same song also is reminiscent of a little-known Annihilator track called “Speed,” which in its turn sounded like a cast-off Van Halen track.  So already, we’ve tied Rxptrs, consciously or unconsciously, to four different bands from four different splinter groups.  And that’s before we bring up the song’s multi-tracked, gang-chorused outro.

In more contemporary terms, Rxptrs lives at the intersection, however improbable, or BRKN Love, Dead Poet Society, and Beartooth, employing in equal measure the rock sensibility of the first, the hardcore emotion of the second, and the big riffs and metal songcraft of the third.  There’s also a passing vocal resemblance to one-and-done New Jersey punk band I.D.K, (not to be confused with the rap artist of the same name,) but that’s hardly a contemporary reference (though their album “Til Death Do Us Part” is available on Spotify, somewhat to my genuine shock.)

Before we get into the laudable parts of “Living Without Death’s Permission,” there will be detractors who will decry the clean vocals and emotional appeal of the choruses that seed throughout the album, but that, much like the rejection of genre definition mentioned above, is simply where metal is right now.  And it honestly should have been expected simply by looking at the calendar – we are coming into a generation of musicians who could have come of age while listening to “The Black Parade” and similar records, so we should expect no less from the artists who were thus inspired.  The choices for metal ‘purists’ (there’s that term again,) are to either embrace the creativity and direction of the artists, or live in a bunker huddled up close to their favorite music of old.

Anyway.

There is little question that “Living Without Death’s Permission” is a front-loaded album.  “Burning Pages” screams from the starting gate with a machine-gun lyric and a crusher of a breakdown.  The acceleration continues through the single “Rock Bottom is a Stepping Stone,” which is an honest headbanger just as a function of displaying a powerful downbeat.

“Dead Awake “Pretty as the Drugs We Take,)” is where the comparison to BRKN Love feels most apt, as listeners of both artists will be reminded of the Canadian band’s “Toxic Twin.”  The song diverge as Rxptrs launch into a hardcore breakdown that serves as just another example of the genre switching which propels their album.

Within the first minute of “Demons in My Headphones,” there’s a section leading into the first chorus that’s a pull from metal, with staccato lyrics and a muted riff that chugs with adrenaline.  The only regret of that one ten-second portion is that it only happens once on the song, and really, on the record.  That brief snippet of songwriting is something Rxptrs should isolate and explore, because it just plain works.

After the aforementioned “The Death Rattle,” there’s three more songs, “Cold Ground,” “The Frail” (which is a popular single,) and “Let Me Die How I Want,” which we mention in a group only because this is where some of the originality of the album starts to fade.  There’s nothing wrong with these songs per se, but they fall into more established tropes of hardcore power ballads, so this trinity at the end is take-them-or-leave-them depending on personal taste.

Let’s not lose focus, though.  “Living Without Death’s Permission” throws seven haymakers right off the start of the album, and on a ten-song record, that’s a hell of a percentage of punches landed.  Whether Rxptrs represents the start of a new British wave of metal is too early to be determined, but they are an enjoyable bellwether for where their respective genres sit in conjunction to one another, and where that combination is going.

The Spider Accomplice Dare Us To Be "Rebels And Riders"

The great benefit to any activity that drowns the senses is that it takes your mind off the scattershot life has fired in your direction. Being able to shut off your thinking for a few moments is a wondrous thing, not just just because it lets a breath go by without having to think about why we're bothering with the process, but because it gives us the strength to fight once we switch ourselves back on. Being a rebel and being a rider are two sides of the same coin, the yin and yang of caring too much about the fate of our lives.

With it being a few days now past the end of Pride, and with every right imaginable now sitting below Damocles' sword (which I can only imagine is what we would see if certain Supreme Court justices were to lift their robes to show off their 'stuff'), being a rebel is an act of survival. The machine is firmly in control, and it is squeezing the essence from us, until all that's left is the colorless pulp they can refine into 'good Christian soldiers'. But I digress.

Rebellion doesn't have to be violent, nor does it have to have a particular political message. Sometimes, raising your fist and simply telling people you're going to continue to live your truth is all the rebellion that's necessary. Right now, standing up for yourself, no matter what form of weirdness you inhabit, is as much an act of rebellion as anything. The Spider Accomplice are reminding us of that with "Rebels And Riders", the first single from their upcoming album, "The Venomous Montage".

The band is rebelling by putting out an album in a time of shortening attention spans. It's a risk to put so much time, energy, and money into a full-length project, but the band is damning the torpedoes and going full speed ahead with their biggest and boldest musical statement yet. In a time when it's easy to let ourselves get dragged down by the day-to-day hopelessness (which happens to me faily often), they come roaring out of the gates with a summer anthem of glorious fun. If you took Lady Gaga's "The Edge Of Glory", and ran it through an alt-rock sieve, this song is what you would end up with. I have never driven a convertible, and I don't have the hair for it either at this point, but this song is what you would want to be playing as you soak up a few of life's pleasures... while you still can.

Arno's guitars are a wall of sound, with a polished glow that blends crushing heaviness with shimmering Edge-esque arpeggios in the verses, while chimes give a definite Springsteen vibe to the song. It's as if we took the 80s view of America, brought it into the future, and couched it in pounding drums and candy-coated melodies so it can cross over and break through the cultural divide.

The band has been flirting with this all along, but "Rebels And Riders" is fully embracing the hints of pop melody that have always been caught in the corners of their web. The blues might connect more on an emotional level, but for making a grand statement, nothing works better than a big, hooky pop song. There's a reason why, no matter how much I hate "Born In The U.S.A.", it's an enduring classic of the genre. Circumstances dictate nothing is going to be able to approach that level of cultural absorption, but the feeling created by "Rebels And Riders" is the same. Broadway, here the Spiders come?

VK sings to us that, "in the space that divides, compassion languishes and dies". That is the problem, now isn't it? We have vast differences in culture between groups of people, and the veneer of civility we used to wear has been stripped off for 'Casual (Hate) Friday'. We no longer have to pretend to care about people who are not like us, or even accept that seeing them on the street is a fact of life. We live in silos, only knowing what we already want to know, firing the missiles at anything that offends us.

What "Rebels And Riders" reminds us is that we don't have to succumb to our worst tendencies, and we don't have to accept that every man (and woman) is an island unto themselves. No matter how alone we feel, there are other people who share our values, share our perspective, share our belief that we would all be better off if we could band together and remember how important mutual respect is.

To wrap all of that up in a three minute pop song that has the effortless joy of summer is just a bonus. I don't know what else "The Venomous  Montage" has in store for us, but if this song is any indication, that spider's silk is going to be reeling a lot of us in.

There is still time to contribute to the Indiegogo campaign to bring "The Venomous Montage" to life. Find out more, and contribute, here!

Album Review: Dampf - "The Arrival"

 

It’s a little embarrassing that this is as good as it is.

Not because of anything to do with the talent of musical acumen of Martin Erikson better known by his stage name E-Type (and who has taken on the moniker A-Tron here,) who has had a successful career in his chosen genre, but just because it doesn’t feel right that a man who has never spent much time composing heavy music can roll in and achieve something many artists never approach.  And just to add context, to read the press surrounding the album, it was composed practically on a dare.

There will be those who will dismiss Dampf outright, because of E-Type’s admission that he wanted to explore the possibility of combining pop melodies with dark music.  As soon as the word ‘pop’ enters the conversations, close-minded purists will shut their ears and turn their backs.  Markedly to their detriment in this case.

Several years ago, we had occasion to speak with Spider from Powerman 5000, who addressed this very issue – we’re paraphrasing, but the upshot of the conversation that was Spider had been summarily accused of forsaking much of his supposed roots in an attempt to write metal pop songs.  To which he confessed that he was, and that it was in fact damn hard to do so.  The challenge of trying to write melodies that will appeal to a broad base, particularly in more aggressive styles, is not one to be taken lightly.

We told you that story to tell you this one: Erikson, and by extension Dampf, has succeeded in this unlikeliest of attempts, and in the process composed a record, “The Arrival,” that makes an alloy of many of the best parts of Rob Zombie, Emigrate/Rammstein and Turisas.

Dampf is not without its own more established metal chops, as “The Arrival” is colored in the margins by the appearance of Tommy Johansson, guitarist from Sabaton, and…one of the bassists from Bathory…though it neglects to mention which one (and honestly, does it matter?) but in any event lends the proceedings a certain authenticity.  The steadying presence of Johansson is evident in the timely, chugging riffs of many of the album’s songs, from the break of the opening “Winterland” down through single “Who Am I.”  As much as we have taken Sabaton over the coals on this site, the contribution here works, as it never ventures close to the preening grandstanding of Sabaton’s monotonous drama.  

While all of the songs offer a little something, there are a few where the synthesis of elements truly stands out, beginning with the under-the-radar track “The Other Side.”  The burst out of the gate is ever-so-slightly reminiscent of Rob Zombie’s “The Great American Nightmare,” and while Dampf never sends both feet down that road, it’s a refreshing call back to a style of sludgy metal that is underutilized in the modern milieu.  Meanwhile, the whole thing cascades into an oversized sing-along chorus, which accentuates the juxtaposition of the big riff and the big vocal.

Now, if there’s fault to be found here, it’s one that all supergroups tend to fall into, particularly on a debut record – that the musicians are feeling each other out, and often writing and recording on a limited and conflicting schedule, so on and so forth.  To that end, once “The Arrival” find its formula, it tends to largely re-arrange similar pieces into seven or eight more songs.  Which is not necessarily a bad thing, and that’s where the ‘pop’ comes in.

All of these cuts, plus or minus a couple, are highly enjoyable and easy to listen to, which is rarely something we get to say in metal as a whole.  “The Arrival” is a pleasant ride, even as beats and guitars are blasting past you as loud as your sound system can handle (and take it as advice – this is best listened to very loud, just to soak in the fun of it all.)

Then, almost at the end, we get “From the E-ternity,” and for almost four minutes, we get a real, transcendent taste of what the amalgam of electro-dance and heavy metal might look like.  Nine Inch Nails and CueStack and Static-X and dozens of others have bitten at the fringes, but rarely if ever with as much pop sensibility.  On an album that shines brightly, this is the brightest star.

Don’t be scared away by the dance history of the man at the center of the project.  Moreover, don’t limit your in some kind of misguided personal stand against popular music.  Spend some time with Dampf’s “The Arrival.”  It’s a fun record.

Album Review: Beth Blade & The Beautiful Disasters - Mythos, Confession, Tragedies And Love

You don't always hear what will be influential when it comes around the first time. While I came to name Halestorm's "Vicious" Album Of The Year in 2018, I did not have any suspicion it would be a record with influence I would hear down the line. I thought it was great, obviously, and it helped me see some things in the rear view mirror a bit differently, but I was certainly caught by surprise when I came across the next album that took that same lessons and sound. I am not flat-footed upon hearing this new Beth Blade & The Beautiful Disasters album, though, both because I'm more ready for it, but also because I know Beth may be an even bigger fan of Lzzy Hale than I am.

Right off the bat, "The Outside" starts things off with a heavy riff and Beth belting as hard as she can. The similarity in tone to something like Halestorm's "Blck Vultures" is apparent, with Beth more than holding her own as a vocal powerhouse. Even from the previous album, she sounds as if she has grown more confident pushing herself. And when you start out with that slightly breathy vocal tone (which is something I've always loved), singing hard simply sounds like rock 'n roll.

She sounds her absolute best on "Hold Your Heart", the dramatic ballad (no, that's not a dirty word) where the acoustic guitars and extra space in the mix leave more room for her voice to reverberate through the speakers. The way the song progresses from a lone guitar and a falsetto vocal, to a powerhouse of strings and Beth at full roar, is perfect. It showcases the softer side, but it still absolutely rocks.

"Persephone" might be the focal point of the album, as it builds from a dark opening through multiple melodies, reaching for the biggest chorus it can find, and throwing in a few almost thrash breaks into the mix. And a key change, too. The band is going for broke on this one, and while you can't do "Stargazer" in four minutes, it has that same attitude of saying 'watch what we can do' about it. As fun as it is to just hammer out a song and rock, there's something to admire about going for something more.

Beth and the band are focused on trying to write big songs with big hooks, and that's what they deliver for the most part. I'm not sure "Ozymandias" works as well on record as it probably will live, but that's balanced out by songs like "Sacrifice", which nail what they're going for. There's plenty of songs like that, blending some rock 'n roll dirt with strong melodies. The closing "Still Not Asking For It" is definitely gritty, and wants to put a closing period on the record by not letting you forget what the band is all about.

If I'm going to nitpick, the one thing I would say is that for all the good Beth and the band do with these songs, the mix of the record is a bit flat. It could stand to sound a bit more powerful when the band revs up, and a bit more shimmering when Beth's vocals are center-stage. But like I said, that's nitpicking.

With Halestorm releasing an album of their own this year, and Beth Blade & The Beautiful Disasters following along, we're seeing the results of years of investment in getting women more involved in the rock scene. I couldn't be happier for that, since listening to Beth Blade is always going to be preferable to the next bro-rock group who haven't discovered how to break free from their rhyming dictionaries.

That's my way of saying Beth and this record have their own kind of charm, and if you give in to that, you're going to hear a record that embodies the good things about rock 'n roll. You can't say no to Beth, can you?

The Best/Worst Of 2022, So Far

The first six months of 2022 have certainly been interesting. At times, it feels as though there hasn't been any great music. At other times, I'm impressed by how little has made it onto my list of contenders to be the worst. But the end result is that the year has been a perfect bell curve, with the overwhelming majority of the releases I've listened to falling squarely in the middle of the pack. It's been an onslaught of the average, which adds up to less than that, because we tend to grade years on the extremities.

With fewer of both, this has been a rather sedate and boring half of the year. So in alphabetical order, here are my choices for the best and worst I've heard so far.

The Best:

Cold Years - Goodbye To Misery

While many fawned over Spanish Love Songs' "Brave Faces Everyone" a few years back, I wasn't able to go as far as they were, because of a disconnect between myself and the lyrics detailing the effects of drug abuse and hopeless poverty. Cold Years takes a similar sound, blended with some of Rise Against's punk, and gives us a record that does many of the same things in a way that is easier for me to swallow. If Green Day's "Warning" was filtered through the modern sound of emo/punk, it would sound a lot like this. There are threads I hear that keep me tethered and coming back.

Halestorm - Back From The Dead

It feels like Halestorm has been trying to capture their live sound for several records, and this time they may have done it. This is the band at their most aggressive and stripped back, with simple grooves and heavy tones giving the entire spotlight over to Lzzy. This is her most personal album as a lyricist, and if you look at it as almost being a form of scream therapy, I think it all makes sense. It wasn't entirely what I expected, but there is much I appreciate about the album. If nothing else, I can relate to her voice.

Michael Monroe - I Live Too Fast To Die Young

No one lately has been making pure and old rock 'n roll like Michael Monroe. "Blackout States" was a revelation, "One Man Gang" was the follow-up that proved it was no fluke, and this record is the finish to a trilogy that eases us into whatever is next. The band takes a few more chances playing with color and shade, and even if that makes for a record that is a bit less immediate, they have a way of making everything sound like a fun party to be at.

Origin Of Escape - Shapes

I love when a record comes out of nowhere and surprises me. That's what this one did. I stumbled across it, and impressed by the cover art, I gave the music a chance. What I heard was a set of songs that played with the same rhythm and emotion as Soen, but with a bit more haze and depression. It has faded a bit from my listening as the sun has spent more time in the sky, but it's the perfect record for the times when I find myself sinking. It reminds me there are beautiful lessons to find at the bottom of that pit, if I don't obsess over how to get out as quickly as possible.

Valleyheart - Heal My Head

Another record that came out of nowhere, this little gem dips its toes into the waters sailed by Jimmy Eat World. There's a dreamy sadness to this record, where the soft moments are a calm bit of depression, and when the band bursts into a their louder and rocking moments, it becomes something that rather than headbanging is more akin to banging your head into the wall to psych yourself up. It's one of those records I liked at first, but kept finding myself needing to hear again ad again. It was a slower build, but there's something rather magical about the feeling it evokes.

The Worst/Most Disappointing:

Ashes Of Ares - Emperors & Fools

When a record has uninteresting songs, and it sounds like crap on top of that, it's going to wind up as one of the worst of the year. On this one, there are few if any songs worth listening to, but even the good moments are ruined by a production that sounds borderline unlistenable, and vocals from Matt Barlow that are among the worst of his career. It sounds like a record rushed into production, as if everyone involved knows their time left to make music is running low.

Ghost - Impera

Like all Ghost albums except for "Meliora", this one disappointed me by being only half of a good record. I don't know why I was expecting more, but I shouldn't have, because my hopes were dashes as I listened to good songs interspersed with some of the worst of Ghost's career. "Twenties" alone was enough to depress me, but the record as a whole continues to frustrate me, as I want to love Ghost, but simply can't. Not if they're going to keep doing this to me.

Serious Black - Vengeance Is Mine

I knew the loss of Urban Breed would be hard, but not this hard. The so-called 'personal' lyrics on this album have some borderline obscene levels of misogyny, enough that I'm declaring the band officially "dead to me", at least until they piss me off enough next time that yelling about them will feel good.

Slash - 4

This record would be a slight disappointment just on the basis of the songs. It's a good record, but I think it's clearly weaker than the other three Slash has made with Myles Kennedy. The big issue, though, is the production. Recording live on the floor as a band was a bad decision, at least as the end result turned out, because it sounds like a bit of a mess. The guitars are too thin and buzzing, and Myles live vocals are strained in places trying to be heard. It's a rough draft of an album, and it's easy to hear all the ways it could have been better if they just spent a bit of time making it so.

Tony Martin - Thorns

The forgotten of Black Sabbath's mainstay singers, the reason for that is simple; Tony Martin has never been a great songwriter. His work with Sabbath was spotty, which puts his albums down the list, and it has kept him from ever getting a solo career going. He has made plenty of records, either on his own or in various projects, and none of them are brimming with memorable songs. That includes this one, which is rather bland and generic metal. Tony's voice sounds great, but he's singing boring songs, which makes the result boring. He needs to work with a great songwriter, which this album proves.

The Conversation: 2022, So Far

CHRIS C: This year has been.... a year, hasn't it? As we approach the halfway point of 2022, I'm struck by two feelings more than anything else; this year seems stuck in the starting gate, and I can't escape my own disappointment. It seems like I've been saying the second part of that more and more as the years pass on, and perhaps we are finally getting to the age when the malaise sets in. We can discuss that later on if you would like to.

With six months of releases now behind us, have we learned anything about 2022? Is it different than 2021, or 2019, or any other year in recent memory? We have talked before about culture having stagnated, and the last twenty-two years being the longest decade of our lives, and perhaps that is the driving force behind what I am feeling. Every time I turn around, it feels like more of the same raining down on us. Part of that is due to the proliferation of bands (you'll notice at least half from one label) where the same people are giving us two or three albums every year. There's the old saying, "How can I miss you if you won't go away?" that applies here.

But it's also that I still haven't found anything you would call a new trend or a new sound to latch onto. The music I'm listening to right now is the same music I was listening to before, and that just means everything today is easier to compare directly with the music of the past. We all know that doesn't go very well.

So I'm starting this conversation off by saying I don't actually have a lot to say about the music that has been released this year, as not much of it has made the kind of impact with me I'm looking for. At my age, or in my current state of mind, I'm looking for an emotional connection to my music. That has proven incredibly hard to find.

There are things to gripe about, including some thoughts I have about rock being populated by man-children, so at least we have that to work with.

Where do you want to begin?

D.M:  I am, before I forget, all in on talking about old man malaise.  Game on.

First off, can I take a wild swing that the record label you're referring to is Frontiers records?  Can I admit something awful, that I shouldn't say as a journalist (if I dare even call myself that?)  I shudder a little whenever I find a new Frontiers promo stream in my inbox.  It's not that I mind there being a label that wants to keep the past alive.  Whatever, there's a market for that, clearly a lucrative one, and we all gotta eat.  What is exponentially more frustrating is the fact that every press release for that label comes with a bloated write up about how genius their head of A&R is (you know who I'm talking about, his name escapes me right now and I'm too tried to look it up,) while essentially admitting that all of their bands have been put together by pulling names out of a hat and shutting them in a studio together.  How seriously as I supposed to take a record that is an inorganic effort by all parties?  Corporate art is certainly worth studying to some degree, but really only as a historical study in marketing and propaganda, not emotion or creativity, which I believe is what we more commonly look for as inspiration.  Clearly, I may be in the minority here, as I live within driving distance of a city that takes civic pride in an oversized sign from a petroleum company.

Putting that aside, in answer to the question you first asked, about what we know about 2022, my gut reaction is that we don't seem to know much yet.  That's more a curiosity than anything, as I've still managed to find, as of this writing, seven or either records that I feel strongly positive about for a variety of reasons.  That said, I can't help but shake the feeling like we're still going through the ripples of albums that were written or began to be written during the heart of the pandemic.  That's probably a combination of new material and material that was held until the consuming public was ready to take on new music, but in any event, the pandemic really presented us with the closest thing we'll likely ever experience to a world frozen in time, so it makes sense that the media of that time would be frozen for a while, too.

I say all that to say that 2022, in short, has no particular flavor as yet.  Normally by this time, we've gotten a taste for what the musical trends and themes of the year might be, but addressing the heart of your question, I haven't detected anything consistent to this point.

Stepping out of my pay grade, there's a couple theories I have on this, in addition to what I stated above.  First, much like how movie studios during the Great Recession started a still-living trend of shelling out for sequels because they were safer bets, it isn't too far fetched to believe that labels, which still hold a great deal of authority even in the digital world of self-releasing, are being extra conservative with their releases right now in an effort to minimize risk.

My other theory is that I just plain think we're seeing some world-weariness and fatigue from all sectors of the planet, artistic and non, and that's leading to a stagnation in expression and creativity.  It's completely understandable.  I know I've been suffering it as much as anyone, and while I don't know them, as you may have seen in my review, even the mighty GWAR seems tired and worn-out right now.  Culturally, we've taken on a lot over the past two-plus years, from major health crises to important societal and equality issues, and very little of the news has been good.  We've not had a chance to breathe comfortably in a long time, and the psychological impact of that will have ramifications for years.  I am not an artist, but I can't imagine that it's easy to create in this environment.  So, we do what we did before, if for no other reason than it feels familiar and safe and achievable.

I will say this - I don't think it's a new trend, I think it's been culminating for a while now, but it seems like any band who puts any thought into their lyrics at all, be they pure fantasy exploration, socially conscious, metaphorical or allegorical, tends to stretch the run times, of both songs and albums, out farther and farther.  Songs that have any context at all are getting long in the tooth.  Personally, I have always used Soundgarden as a sort of benchmark for this - they were not afraid to live around the five-minute mark if the situation called for it.  Feels like bands are routinely blowing way past that now.  Taking old Iron Maiden as an example, plenty of artists were capable of telling stories in three-and-a-half minutes.  Is that a lost art?  What causes this?

CHRIS C: Old man malaise ties into one of my musical gripes, so I'll get to that at the end of this exchange.

Yes, the label I was talking about was Frontiers, although they are only the worst offender of this, not the sole one. I'm totally with you; when a band seems to be put together for the sole purpose of making a record, it's not exciting. I've never been in PR, but saying 'these people never met before they signed a contract to make a record' doesn't sound to me like something that would entice buyers. Then again, Michael Sweet (who has been involved in several of these projects) has gone online many times to brag about writing some of his recent albums in just a week, as if I'm supposed to be impressed by that, rather than worried he didn't put enough time and effort into it. But what do I know? Last year, I clocked at least ten albums from the label where most or all of the songs were written by their main in-house songwriter. That's ONE HUNDRED songs he wrote just last year. I have some experience in this area, as you know. Could I write a hundred songs in a year if it was my job? Sure. But would they all be good, or would they not begin to sound like the same thing over and over again? Nope. I don't think it's possible to churn out that much product without the quality suffering. But their business model seems to be selling a certain number of dedicated fans as many albums as they can produce in a year, so it's working for them. I am more generous to their artists than you are, but even for me, the percentage of their 'bands' I'm truly excited to hear from is getting smaller every year.

Branding was the smartest thing businesses ever did. They became local landmarks, and every time someone used to give directions, before Google Maps took over, they were what we looked for. I feel like that's the sort of thing Frontiers is trying to do, but it can't be done with a product like an album. They might be the first stop online for their niche of music, but it's not as if we have to drive past them to get where we're going, so it feels like they are siloed and only talking to the people who are already fans. I have that same concern with bands that have shifted to Patreon as a major part of their model as well. Making new fans is hard, for sure, but some steps being taken feel self-limiting.

We are certainly still getting 'pandemic records', which is an odd thing, since the pandemic is not over, but it's being treated as such. So those sorts of records already feel like relics of the past, even though they are as relevant as they would have been last year. When you talk about frozen time, there it is. It's as if we've pulled the future closer to the present, hoping we can make the jump and put more distance between ourselves and what we want to forget. Time doesn't work like that, sadly.

Your musing about it having been a tough time to create is interesting. I suppose it depends on which kind of artist you are. If you are one who makes energizing and happy music, yeah, I would imagine you had a tough time. If you are one who uses music as a form of therapy, then perhaps it was easier than ever. I found myself rather productive during that time, and maybe part of the malaise we're all feeling is that more of the music we're hearing is tilted in a dour direction than usual, for that very reason. Just like how you can't pull yourself up by a bootstrap, you can't exactly energize yourself entirely on your own either.

I think your lyrical observation falls into the same category as how metal has shifted in general. Just like what was heavy in the 80s isn't necessarily heavy today, the same is true for what is more 'epic'. When Iron Maiden was writing a few five and six minute songs, it was stretching what metal bands could get away with and still be popular. Like all things, the edges keep getting stretched, and eventually it's hard to see how far we have gone. You add a few seconds every year, and over the course of four decades, you wind up with any band trying to be daring, or thinking big, having to go to lengths we would have scoffed at back then. The other thing is simply that telling a story in a small number of words is hard, and most lyricists aren't very good at what they do. I know I've heard dozens of concept albums over the years. Do you know how many of them tell a story well enough that I know what it's about? Just about none. But when we live in a time when any movie that comes along immediately gets talked about for it's 'trilogy' potential, what sort of brevity can we expect?

Mentioning lyricists ties back to the malaise I wanted to address. Feeling older and worn out is normal. What really annoys me is not my own blandness, but the people involved in rock and metal who refuse to grow up and act their age. I don't know if you listened to Fozzy's album, not that I would recommend doing so, but there's a song where Chris Jericho actually sings, "U.G.L.Y., you ain't got no alibi". He's in his fifties, and is singing a line from an elementary school playground. There's also Serious Black, who had a song where they literally called the woman the song was about a drugged-addicted whore. That's on top of a song last year where a guy was bragging his new girlfriend was the same age as his son. That would also mean she would be the same age as his own daughter, if he had one. Ugly connotations, eh? The point is that no one seems to bat an eye at these overgrown man-children who think staving off old age can be achieved by acting like the dumbest of young people. We can criticize Iron Maiden for a lot of things, but they're not out there trying to prove they don't need Viagra. I know this was music made for a young and stupid crowd, but I guess I thought it would mature as the bands themselves did. But so many of them never did, and now we have the most ridiculous people trying to be exciting, while they have AARP cards in their wallets.

If anything gives me malaise, it might be that.

D.M: One hundred songs is a big deal?  C'mon, that's just eight songs a month!  How hard can it be?  

In the meantime, the fact that there's even an in-house songwriter is kind of gross.  Historically, I understand that this is not a new concept - the Brill Building, and the famously catty rivalry between Carole King and Neil Sedaka are testament enough to that, so there's precedent.  Something about it seems even more unappealing though, when you've specifically contracted musicians who are known for their previous compositions into a supergroup, and then that supergroup is told to just to play pre-written material like automatons at Chuck E. Cheese (with all respect to Chuck E. Cheese.)  The whole concept is rather gross and undignified.

The shift to Patreon you mentioned is an interesting one.  On some sense, it seems like a logical extension of the modern micro-transaction laden, gig-based economy, a hybrid combination of crowd-sourcing and less savory but popular purveyors like OnlyFans.  It's all a little too 'put a dime in the jukebox and it'll play something' for me, but I can see how to some degree we're trying to replace the noble benefactor of previous centuries with ten thousand proletariat benefactors to achieve the same ends.  There's three things happening here for me that are all concurrent, and I'm not sure what's good, what's bad and what simply is out of the bunch of them.

First is that we've evaporated much of the remaining illusory vestige that artists are creating art for art's sake, and that if it happens to be making them profit, so be it.  By moving to Patreon, the art becomes transactional; we are openly acknowledging that art is a money-making venture, and moreover, than its creators are real people who need to eat.  Second, we are engaging in another attempt to remove power from the traditional power structure of art and its distribution.  Which as we've discussed, has its good and bad points - I'm all for artists doing whatever the hell they want and not having anyone tell them differently.  You wanna name your band Vomit Fist?  Go for it.  Nobody should tell you no.  Conversely, the labels and promoters and all those who have spent a hundred years turning art into a clever industry do have some knowledge of how to get an artist's work into the hands of the people, and (should) have the discerning eye to separate the wheat from the chaff in terms of artistic merit.

The third thing, and this dovetails into a much larger argument societally, is something you touched upon - that by moving to Patreon, you've made it harder for people to find you who wouldn't have otherwise, and are speaking only to your own congregation.  Empirically, this is a bad move for marketing reasons because of the, to use your term, siloing.  Perhaps more importantly, it speaks to the evolving echo chamber we all find ourselves in.  It could be the single most damaging thing happening to us culturally.  And it's an easy trap to fall into, inexorably tied into the algorithms that have made our lives more convenient.  I'm probably as guilty as anyone, and the extra time to think afforded to me by a global shutdown made me decide to close all my social media to afford some measure of protection.  I'm not going to expand more than that, lest we become guilty of getting too far afield from what we're here to discuss, but the echo chamber is damned dangerous, and the further we allow ourselves to slide into it, the harder it will be to get out.

Anyway.

Allow me to expand on my original idea about it being a tough time to create, because I think in the intervening period between my saying it and your response, I've focused the concept a little more.  It is my belief that we've hit a point beyond the depth of emotion, into simple, all-encompassing fatigue.  Emotion, even dark emotion, requires some level of investment and effort.  Even if someone is composing music as therapy, as you suggest, there comes a point where the brain is simply overloaded and out of power.  What's the Dale Carnegie quote?  "Our fatigue is often caused not by work, but by worry, frustration and resentment."  If that's not where we collectively are now, then I simply don't know what it would take.  Speaking only for myself, my brain is toast.  I am fortunate enough to have a cool job that I really love, but if you ask me on any given morning, "do you want to go to work today?" the answer is likely no.  I don't think I'm alone in the concept of 'pandemic fatigue,' and that doesn't even cover all the rest of the stuff happening on this spinning marble called Earth.  It wouldn't necessarily be fair for us to expect any different from our musicians.  Now, that doesn't absolve 2022 of, to this point, being an average and undefined year for music, but it does give some insight as to why - the desire to put in the effort may just not be there, even in some cases inspirational material is abundant.

Regarding your grip with lyrics and artists and the meaningless showcase of artificial virility by aged men: this is going to be unnecessarily glib and contrite, but I can offer nothing else that says it better.  I am quoting Henry Rollins, massively out of context, but it remains true - "there is a point where boys turn into men, which is really kind of dubious, because they just become fat boys."  There's a lot of cultural stigma and expectation and other bullshit that goes into that, but that doesn't mean it isn't true.  Especially for men who made their fame as young men who acted upon all the things they espoused.  We talk about the evolution of artists a lot, and treading the very fine line between fans' expectation and growth and change in music, and this is a permutation of that.  If your young, dumb crowd is now an old, dumb crowd, and you never had that much to say in the first place, you don't have much room to maneuver.  Would anybody be interested in a David Lee Roth record where he tells the story of buying over-the-counter orthopedic inserts for his shoes, joining a fifty-plus recreational basketball league and buying a sensible car that gets good gas mileage?

Or, you could be Bruce Springsteen, and spend forty years evolving into....more Bruce Springsteen.  Gross.

CHRIS C: You're right that having songwriting factories isn't a new thing at all. I guess part of the issue is that now it's more out in the open, and they promote the fact more than try to keep it under wraps. We can't avoid knowing the next album down the line is exactly the same as the one before it. But what you were saying about the bands is only partially right. Yes, it doesn't feel right to use pre-written songs for groups made up of people known for it, but the bigger problem is that a lot of these bands are made up of people who were in famous bands, but weren't writing the songs. There's a lot of confusion in the public knowledge about who exactly is responsible for the songs we listen to. Many people think anyone who was in a band had a lot to do with writing the songs, and these sorts of situations take advantage of that. I'm not going to call it fraud, but it's definitely using people's ignorance against them. Having the drummer from a generic 80s band and the replacement guitarist from another who wasn't there for any of the 'classic' songs does not a supergroup make, no matter how much they try to sell us on it.

They pissed me off with this last year. There was one of those projects that featured the first appearance by a guitarist from one of my favorite metal bands in many years. As it turns out, the whole thing was written by the in-house guy, so the only thing the guitarist contributed was solos. I had wanted to actually hear what he would write and play with the chance to have his own band for once, but instead we got another cookie-cutter. It was good, but I wasn't as excited as I should have been.

When it comes to Patreon, only one of your three points really bothers me. We all have known for a long time music is a business, so I'm not going to try to feign any outrage that it has become so transactional. No, I don't really like that it tends to apply a deadline where the artists need to create a certain amount of music at a certain time to justify the money, but that's minor. The third issue is the big one; the siloing isn't helpful to anyone. There's one band I follow who is doing the Patreon thing right now, and they have been releasing new songs exclusively through that platform. So in order to hear any of this music, you have to be paying them every month. In order to pay them every month, you have to have already heard enough of their old music (which wasn't Patreon exclusive - oh, irony) to be that much of a fan. You also have no ability anymore to hear what the music sounds like before you buy it, which is taking us back to the days no fan I know of wants to go back to. If they make a radical change you don't like, too bad, they already have your money. Needless to say, I haven't heard a note of that band's recent music.

I get what you're saying about fatigue. Sure, we're all feeling that way. I was looking at it slightly differently, where inspiration is a moment of energy in the midst of that ennui. Even being frazzled and fried, there are still those short bursts where something comes through the static. That won't be true for everyone, especially if creating is in fact your job. It's easier for me to say my creative side stayed engaged, because that's the way I pull myself away from storm. For those who have creation lead into the world that wears them down, it would be another story. Ironically, I'm feeling the fatigue much more as a listener. Even the music I have said is really good this year has been failing to move me on an emotional level, and as you're saying, that could be due to me simply not having the energy to feel right now.

That's one of the few Henry Rollins lines I absolutely remember, and he's right. Somewhere along the line, the idea of what manhood is supposed to be changed, and not for the better. The entire idea of the 'alpha male' that now persists is incredibly toxic, and it pushes the gullible to take things too far, or else they get called soft and weak. You're not allowed to be quiet, or respectful, or age-appropriate, without it being a sign that you aren't man enough. Apparently, we're supposed to have an overflow of testosterone bubbling through us from birth until death. I can see that middle-aged men who make a spectacle of dating barely legal women are compensating for their own fears and/or self-loathing, but they can't. We have a culture wherein it's somehow thought to be a sign of strength to be unapologetically crass, because offending people shows that you're tough enough to attack. It always comes back to the distinction I draw between saying something insightful/funny that happens to be offensive, and saying something offensive that happens to be insightful/funny. Almost all of the people whining about being 'canceled' are in the latter category, and they can't see their lack of talent is the reason they have to rely on those crutches. But now I'm getting off-topic a bit.

I guess I want to ask if you find yourself in the same boat I do, where getting older has made me look back at the music I listened to when I was younger with some degree of horror. There are certain songs and records that were cool at the time, but when I hear them now, they make me sad to realize how often the ugly messages were put into my head without me even knowing it. I know I have a tendency to go back and refer to my essay on Weezer's "Pinkerton" too often, but it was really a revelatory experience I had. I was having the same experience when Meat Loaf died, and I was listening to "When The Rubber Meets The Road", which repeatedly uses the line "yes means no means yes means no". I still can't tell which side the song comes down on, but putting any confusion between the words, and then pumping it into people's heads, now feels dirty. How often was that happening to us? I don't mean to blame that, or overstate its impact, but it certainly couldn't have helped.

Before we get to the good, what this year has rubbed you the wrong way?
D.M: I have to chuckle a little at your mention of the drummer from the generic 80s band, and the general concept of corralling musicians who aren't the famous musicians from bands and then calling the result a supergroup.  You might remember - some years ago, probably back far enough that we were writing under our previous banner, there was a press release going around about Deep Purple going on a nationwide tour.  But if you read the print carefully enough, there was no participation from Ian Gillan, Ritchie Blackmore or Jon Lord.  So, who exactly was in the band?  At the risk of insulting whoever was out there and felt they had justification in calling themselves Deep Purple, nobody that anyone gives a shit about was taking part in that tour.  Coincidentally, this is why I stopped seeing Slayer, well before their three-year retirement tour.  Once Hanneman and Lombardo were gone, the people I wanted to see were out, and Slayer had become a travelling a museum with replacement parts.

To tie a bow on the Patreon conversation, I do wonder what the shelf-life of this as a business model is.  For one, as you mention, you have to be able to produce music on a deadline, which is more often than not a horrible idea, and also, this is all new.  It's the same way I feel about cryptocurrency and legalized sports gambling - right now, it's the wild west, and seems pervasive because there is not enough data to either a) regulate it, or b) safely predict the cycles it will go through.  You and I are old enough to remember when internet shopping first took off, and no one charged sales tax?  Eventually, regulation and moderation caught up.  That's a long way of saying this - we'll have to wait and see if the music-by-subscription model has any long term legs.

As to your larger question, I don't know that I have had the same experience with musical reflection from my youth as you have.  I get what you're saying, some of it is pretty gross, especially with the amount of music about heroin that I took in during the grunge era, though I was too young to really even understand what heroin was.  I had a unique experience relative to most in that my older brother brought home a lot of music from his high school years, but I was seven years younger and really didn't get the messaging on the same level that I'm sure he did.  I don't know that I really understood what a song like Soundgarden's "4th of July" was about until years later.

Never mind all the Zeppelin.  As a youth, I loved "Trampled Underfoot," but didn't really pick up on what was being said until later.  My dad also drilled into me early that musicians could be great and make great music, but that I should not look to emulate their lifestyle.  He was speaking, I think specifically, of Aerosmith and Alice Cooper, but the lesson applied in many different facets.  Either way, both of my parents instilled in me a love for a band literally called The Doobie Brothers (whom I still love,) so music wasn't thought of as being taboo (though my mom wasn't too keen on Ozzy.)  

When I look back at that stuff now, for as cringe-inducing as some of it can be (and boy, can it,) I think I've rationalized it as being part of the larger escapism and suspension of reality of many of the forms of entertainment that I enjoy.  Sure, you can talk about cerebral subjects like science fiction or fantasy, or whatever, but in terms of the lower-brow music I imbibed, I'm thinking of the amount of professional wrestling and Russ Meyer movies that I've spent time with.  

I enjoy all those things.  But I don't start a nine-year feud when somebody hits me on the head with a coconut, and I don't expect women to look or act like Varla from "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!"  Have I listened to a lot of Dead Prez?  Sure.  Have I been a stoplight and sang along with Ice Cube's "We Had to Tear This Muthafucka Up?"  Absolutely.  But much as with those other media, for me, it's all a suspension of reality, a fantasy world that doesn't generate resonate with the one I'm in.

Let's see, what's rubbed me the wrong way this year?  Not much in particular - the only thing that really comes to mind is that the sheer volume of releases has become trying.  As we mentioned, it feels like we're still under the avalanche of pandemic records, so at any given time, I feel like I'm a month behind in my listening.  As of this writing, I've barely finished all the albums I wanted to listen to from May, and we're starting to get releases for July.  I understand that everyone is trying to empty their closest and that there's revenue to be had, but I can't help the feeling that some of these records aren't being given their proper moment before they're pushed out for something else.  On my front, that's really about it.

How about you?

CHRIS C: I can't say I remember that incident with Deep Purple, but it wouldn't surprise me. How many bands have we seen in the years since where anyone who thinks they have even a fraction of the rights to a name goes out and tries to make whatever buck they can off it? One of the worst things that ever happened was Foreigner replacing every single member without the crowds noticing. Now every band thinks they can follow suit and dupe the fans simply by putting a band's name in big letters, and hoping no one knows enough about what's going on to know any better.

I'm not bullish on Patreon as a long-term strategy either, but for a different reason. There is surely the barrier to entry we've already mentioned, and there are fans who will be disappointed and leave, but there is a further issue with the artists themselves; they might burn out. I've already seen some bands that have gone this route who have taken hiatuses, or had to completely rework the entire premise, because they weren't interested in making music at that moment. It's been less common there, but I've seen the same thing happening with people who talk about music (particularly on YouTube), where once they have turned their hobby into an actual job, they lose the passion for doing it and they either quit, slow down, or completely change their content. The same thing is going to happen to some of these bands. The ones on Patreon are usually not doing music as their actual job, and once it starts to feel like one, the business transaction aspect becomes too hard to ignore. At least crowdfunding albums can be done when they have something they are ready and passionate to release. Patreon pulls back too much of the facade of being an artist, I fear.

See, I completely agree with you.... now. I can put on that old music an enjoy it for what it is, but only because I'm old enough now to realize what it's saying and put that aside. I can hear those songs and intentionally ignore the toxicity in them. But in order to do that, I first had to have those realizations, and it's the time before that happens I find dangerous. I come across a lot of people who are serious music fans who don't care in the slightest what the lyrics of a song are. Those kinds of people aren't going to be looking for meaning, or questioning what they are hearing. Those kinds of people are going to absorb some of the messaging, and I fear if you hear those things often enough without any context, it could be an excuse to embrace some of the thoughts we're supposed to be ashamed of. Without getting too political here, it's in the same boat with how people have been given license to be more openly hateful of women and minorities in recent years. Hearing your favorite records going down that road can give the impression its ok to follow suit. Sorry, Ted Nugent, but every article where your name is ever mentioned should start and end with a note telling the audience you wrote a song about raping a child. Context is critical.

I'm going to consider myself lucky for having a severe case of apathy right now. While the releases never stop coming, I have not at all been able to muster the energy to listen to a ton of them. As I'm writing this, I've listened to just about 75 albums and EPs this year, which is just about on par with the last few years, and that is weighted towards the winter, when I got off to a fast start. I don't know, I just don't seem to care about much of anything right now. It's made my job of finding things to write about a bit harder, but I don't mind not listening to another twenty records that will turn into a mush of forgettable noise.

I guess what's rubbed me the wrong way isn't so much the music, but the reaction. There are a handful of 'legends' who put out records that could generously be called mediocre, and yet the collective opinion is a big 'two thumbs up'. Matt Barlow is pretty much the only piece of Iced Earth's history that isn't an embarrassment, but he put out a record this year that sounds so terrible I can't believe a label actually agreed to release it. The reaction to it was positive. Tony Martin put out a record that reminded us all his era of Black Sabbath is largely forgotten because he can't write more than two good songs per album. The reaction to it was positive. The Flower Kings put out another double album with ninety minutes of tuneless meandering. The reaction to it was positive. That wretched Serious Black album I mentioned earlier. The only reaction I saw to the lyrics, other than my own, was positive. Maybe that all comes back to my old complaint that too many people like too much of what they hear. And that seems to apply to the musicians as well as the audience.

So let's talk about some good things instead. What this year has been a boon for you?

D.M:  I know exactly what you mean when you talk about what happens when music becomes too much like a job.  It's one of the primary reasons why I never really tried to turn editorial music coverage into an occupation.  As a hobby, it's fine - I can pick it up and put it down as my regularly-scheduled life dictates (much to the chagrin of all the promoters and press folks we work with, I'm sure,) but I love music too much to ever want it to feel like work.  And I am familiar with all the variations of the axiomatic sayings about "do what you love," but it would seem inevitable that obligation would start to supersede passion, and that's damaging to the experience in the extreme.  

I don't want to rehash all the things you and I have talked about over the years, but I also know what you mean about critical reception to established artists.  The example I always use is Behemoth.  And I'm not taking away from their accomplishments, or even blaming them for the phenomenon.  But I double dog dare you to find a negative review of anything Behemoth has ever done.  Which simply can't be reality.  No artist can be perfect over that long a period of time.  Don't even get me started on the Cult of Mike Patton.  You know how in sports they talk to death about "playing for the name on the front of the jersey, not the name on the back?"  Music journalism actually needs to STOP playing for the name on the front.  

I want to back up for a second, because since my initial response, I've revised my answer.  There is something that rubbed me the wrong way.  And you and I have discussed it in brief, vague terms over the last year and change, but I'm going to call it to the carpet.  

We currently live in some of the most contentious, controversial and critical time in our collective history.  There are real problems that need to be addressed and solved.  Where are the upper-tier musicians who are willing to take a stand on these issues?  Where is the new Green Day?  Who are the new Dixie Chicks?  Who will be the new Public Enemy? (Okay, that last might be Killer Mike, but where the hell has he been?  He hasn't released a solo record in ten years.)

What's happening here?  This is only my personal opinion, but in the intervening time since Green Day released "American Idiot," we've seen the advent of social media and everyone, largely for worse, has become hyper-aware of utter nonsense like "maintaining their brand."  You know what happens when you try to maintain your brand?  You become risk-averse.  You cower away from saying anything of principle or importance, and hide behind consistency of image like a fucking pane of bulletproof glass.  Artists have become so damned afraid of offending people and alienating their potential revenue generation as to transform into saccharine shells of artistic stagnation.  It's like we're being held in thrall to profit and collectively living in fear of the followers of a delusional old white man who currently carries no official authority.  But when you say it out loud, it sounds crazy, right?

In private conversation, I think I enjoyed Ghost's new album a little more than you did, but we agree it's not the band's best effort.  That said, I give Ghost all the credit in the world for taking some issues face-on and actually having something cogent to say.  Was Tobias an unlikely crusader?  Was some of it clumsy and a little ham-fisted?  Yes on both counts.  But he's out there standing by it and marching under that banner, and good for him, especially at a time when all of their compatriots in heavy music, formerly a proud genre of protest, want to either avoid the conversation entirely, or talk about it through the lens of weak, subtle metaphor or historical allegory.

Anyway, my blood pressure is back to normal now.  What were we talking about?


CHRIS C: I'll tie two of your points together. I haven't taken any steps to look into monetizing what we do either, but I wouldn't be opposed to it. I know it would take some of the joy out of it, but that joy isn't as common as I would like it to be, so I'm not naive about what I would be walking into. The issue is what you were saying about critical consensus; I don't know who would pay us to write about music, given that we aren't reflexively positive like a lot of outlets are. Granted, I haven't been reading as much coverage as I once did, but the amount of negative reviews I come across seems to be directly related to a band's reputation. Any group that is beloved rarely finds themselves being savaged by critics. It's only when a band's momentum has naturally started to wane that the reviews follow suit.

I am not like that. I know I have a bit of a reputation for hating everything, but I think my skepticism is actually a benefit. People know when I praise something, it's because I actually believe it. I've said so many times over the years that I don't trust people who like everything they hear, and I mean it. Praise means nothing if everyone gets it, so the fact that I am both ready and willing to levy harsh criticism when necessary is a sign of rare honesty. It's also why I don't go out of my way to point out everything I write, since even though some of the people we work with appreciate honesty, they might not appreciate how much of it comes their way.

You mention Behemoth, which is a perfect example of this. Their fans are still enraptured by the band, and it's hard to find a critic who will say anything against them (I would, if I bothered to listen to them). Then there's the other side, which we can use In Flames as an example of. They lost their initial fan-base, and critics have been savaging them for damn near twenty years now. The problem with that is they still sell tons of concert tickets, and they still sell enough albums the bigger labels keep signing them to new contracts, so you're telling me none of that sizeable number of people who still enjoy the band happens to be a critic? What are the odds of that?

I don't go out of my way to be a contrarian, nor do I take any particular pride in it, but I don't shy from it either. I like what I like, and I don't give a damn about impressing random people I don't know.

I too have wondered why we never got a proper anti-Trump album that broke through and defined the era. I can't quite explain why we didn't. Maybe you're right and it was a fear of backlash, but I'm not sure I believe that. Rock music used to live in the backlash, and that amount of polarization would drive so much interest it would probably be worth the bad press on the other side, at least from a business perspective. I wonder if it might simply be that, given the state of civic education, a lot of the rockers aren't qualified to make nuanced political discourse. Then again, when the target of political cartooning is already a cartoon, perhaps there isn't any room left for lampooning. Regardless, someone missed out on the opportunity to carve out a space in cultural history, and Ghost's songs are not going to fill that space. I respect them, sure, but it's too little and too late.

What we were talking about is what we have liked so far this year. I'll say this; I've found myself looking backwards a bit. I seem to be liking music that would have been more 'of the moment' when we were younger. Not that it will wind up being a favorite, but Avril Lavigne is a good indicator of that. She made a pop-punk record firmly of the early 00s, and dammit if I don't find it fun. Cold Years has a punk-adjacent record that gives me a "Warning" era Green Day vibe. There's another obscure record that reminds me a lot of classic era Jimmy Eat World, so my focus has largely been on that era of music, and the echoes of it I'm hearing right now. Also, it was great to hear Lzzy Hale's voice again, which was even better since it's been several years between records (with only a handful of guest appearances), so I had time to miss her. That was all good stuff.

D.M: The phenomenon you mention with In Flames is magnified with a couple of more known, and consequently more hated names: Nickelback and Creed.  Chuck Klosterman wrote a piece some ten years ago about attending a concert of each on the same night, and the central theme of the piece was that for all the easy internet hate and vitriol, SOMEONE must like these bands, because they're still being booked at NBA arenas and large ballrooms.  Now, I grant, if you look around at the unfiltered, uneducated and conspiratorial nonsense that saturates every corner of social media on any variety of subjects, it's not hard to draw the conclusion that a lot of people are not thinking critically about what they believe or enjoy.  Point.  But even with that, music is the most subjective medium of them all, so more to the point, it's impossible to believe that all reception is either positive or negative.

What have I liked so far this year?  It's interesting that you talked about the old vibes, because I've been sensing a lot of that, too.  Which is more an observation than a thing I really enjoyed, as it feels like the vibes I'm picking up on are based on the rock/metal/pop punk of our college years.  This fits nicely into the puzzle of my alleged twenty-year cycle, but also portends a potentially fallow period for the music I particularly enjoy.  

In a general sense, I feel pretty good that it's halfway through the year, and that if I had to make a year-end album list right now, I have nine records that I would feel decent about putting on my shield as indicative of what is shaping up to be a fairly good year.  While prodigious creativity hasn't been the order of the day exactly, there's even been a few truly unique gems like 8 Kalacas.  So even with the banality of another slew of pandemic records, and the overwhelming fatigue we talked about, there's still enough going on that's captured my interest.  And I think what makes it best of all for me is that of the nine, seven of them are from artists that are either new, or that I wasn't previously familiar with, so that's a great sign as we head into the summer release season with some heavy-hitters on deck like Arch Enemy, Soilwork, maybe Combichrist and maybe, maybe, Kendrick Lamar.

So that dovetails nicely into the next part of our conversation - what are you looking forward to in the second half?

CHRIS C: That is all true, but there's enough of a distinction it's interesting to note the difference. Nickelback and Creed both had massive crossover appeal, and they were relegated to the cultural trash heap when their ability to chart hit singles dried up. In those cases, I can see where the casual fans who still remember those songs would still go to a show to see them get played one more time. In Flames is firmly in the metal world, where we tend to think of the fans as being more hardcore. There wasn't as much of a casual audience for them to lose, and it's not as though they are getting radio airplay to bring in a new batch of them. With them, it's almost all hardcore fans in both eras, and I find it fascinating that they seem to have put together two very successful careers with what seems like minimal overlap between the early fans and the late fans. I suppose it's sort of similar to what Metallica was doing in the "Load" era, except their music was omnipresent, and I think a lot of people got brainwashed into thinking it was all amazing. Retrospective listening has definitely made that era sound duller than ever.

It probably isn't just music, but also life, that follows the cycle. Yes, we are due for a lot of those old sounds to come back into style, but we're also at the age when we're having high school reunions. I think we are in the right place in life where we are prone to looking backward anyway, so something that reminds us of the familiar will have even stickier velcro for us to grab on to. I would like to think that's a solid reason for it happening, because the other main culprit would be black clouds lingering over my head more of the time. I would much prefer it to be unconscious nostalgia.

I believe last year was the same, where you had more records you felt strongly about than I do. Looking at my list of favorites so far, I'm not entirely disappointed, but I'm also not ready to go to the mat for all that many of them. Like last year, I can hear significant flaws in several, and I'm still waiting for that one record that comes in and delivers the uppercut to stun me.

What will that be? To answer your question, I'm not sure what I'm looking forward to for the rest of the year. There is a full-length album coming from The Spider Accomplice I will of course be excited to hear, but otherwise, I haven't heard many announcements yet that have caught my interest. There is a new Nordic Union album on the way, and an EP from Yours Truly (obviously less exciting than a whole album), but that's about it. I'm looking at a lot of blank space on my spreadsheet right now.

You mentioned a few you're looking forward to, so that leaves us at the end of our usual questioning. What have been the surprises this year, both good and bad?

D.M: Metallica, as ever, remains a subject unto themselves, right?  You know how in high school science classes, they teach you about the phases of matter, and that the molecules condense and the dimensions get smaller as you move from gas to liquid to solid?  And then they throw in the one exception - that water expands as it freezes?  Metallica is water in this analogy.  Nothing about Metallica, in any historical context, applies to any other band of their ilk, and nothing about any other band of their ilk applies to Metallica.  They've broken every rule of heavy music physics and chemistry.

I think the thing that's surprised me most this year, and mayhaps it shouldn't because, as you mentioned, I had such affinity for last year's records, if the amount of time I'm still spending with artists from 2021.  We've spoken about it to the point where it has become practically axiomatic - that as people age, they become more attached to the sounds of their youth, our of nostalgia, a lessening of time available for exploration, and a hundred other external factors.  And yet, I can't shake the feeling that some of the great records I've listened to in my adult life came out last year.  Cave of Swimmers, Dead Poet Society, Bokassa, CueStack, Beartooth, all still in my regular listening rotation. And then...the Hawkins.  Their EP, "Aftermath," is the record I've listened to the most this year, without question.  They are rapidly rising up my list of greatest bands alive.

Sadly, that brings to the bad surprise - that the other side of that coin is that I haven't spent much time listening to new records.  While above I talked about how bullish I was for being at the end of June and having multiple albums that I'd argue in favor of, I don't know that I've listened to any of them more than two or three times.  And I think, to use your phrase of uppercut, while these albums are very good on the whole, they have perhaps lacked an uppercut.  I don't think I've really seen one signature single that moved me this year and drew me back in, with the possible exception of Feuerschwanz's "Memento Mori," which is a song that isn't even in my native tongue.  I say all that to say that I'm surprised I haven't encountered a knockout single this year yet.  Normally by now I've gone too far the other way - mediocre albums that hang around because they've composed one sublime single.

But, there's still a lot to look forward to, as I mentioned above.  I'm enjoying the new Dampf record, and don't look now, but I think Alestorm might be maturing into a real, grown band.  There's an Arch Enemy record to look forward to, plus Soilwork (who haven't been peak Soilwork in a while, but their name still carries a lot of weight and merits the time of day,) maybe a Kiberspassk album, and in just a couple days' time (probably in the rearview as of publishing date,) releases from both Pathos & Logos and Rxptrs, which piqued my interest.

Hope springs eternal.  Speaking of...Let's.  Go.  Mets.

CHRIS C: Metallica really is a unique case. Megadeth basically followed them every step of the way, but it never worked out quite the same way, or with the same good will. That's an interesting thing to think about; what makes Metallica bulletproof in a way no other metal band has ever been? I fully admit I am not steeped enough in metal anymore to even begin to answer that question. But with Megadeth about to release an album soon, the difference is rather stark and hard to ignore. Oh, remember how I used to defend "Risk"? Yeah, I don't do that anymore, with the exception of "Breadline", which I will still say is a great song. In fact, I don't know that I ever think about Megadeth at all anymore. My life is not missing anything. Ha!

I haven't had the uppercut, but a few albums have landed enough body blows that they've gone the distance. I'm noticing more of those kind of slow-burn albums in recent years. I've also had a couple more instances of changing my mind than usual. That's interesting. There are a couple of singles that have outpaced their albums for me. Ghost has a couple songs that fit that bill, but were never actually released as singles. Slash has one too. "The River Is Rising" is bloody awesome, and the rest of the album just can't compete.

My surprise of the year is how I seem to be the only person who hears certain things the way I do. When I do engage in discussions with a few people about the music we're listening to, it's amazing not that I like what they don't and don't like what they do, but we hear the things in completely different ways. I heard a certain singer struggling to keep up with his old self, they think he sounds amazing. I heard a record with production so loud it gave me a migraine, they thought it sounded amazing. And so on and so forth. I know I've always tended to see things from a bit of a weird angle, but it's getting a bit ridiculous.

And with that being said, I think we've reached the end of the line for this talk. Perhaps we will reconvene to make fun of Megadeth when their album comes out. If I can be assed to listen to it, that is. Ha!

Until then, I think we've accomplished enough.

EP Review: Saint Asonia - Introvert

Radio rock is a hard genre to really get into, because so many of the bands follow the exact same blueprint. They do it because that is what gets airplay, and I totally understand that, but it leads to an entire genre of music that sounds so similar it's sometimes impossible to distinguish one band from another. And now that there are also offshooots to the successful bands drama necessitated that also sound the same, sometimes the only way to cut through it all is to have audible charisma the others don't. Saint Asonia did that on their first record. Adam Gontier's voice is just a bit better at selling the songs than many of the also-rans, which gives them a leg up.

They are following that well-received album with this EP, which is an interesting choice. It does seem to be the way a lot of bands are going these days, and if you're primarily aiming for radio play and streaming numbers, focusing on just 'the hits' makes sense. On the other hand, having fewer songs gives you less options to pull a rabbit out of the hat if the original picks don't climb the charts as expected.

The six original songs on this release continue the Saint Asonia formula. The guitars are there to give a comfortable rock feeling, even if they are just playing the usual types of rhythms. The vocals are top notch, as Adam is one of the best at doing this style. The melodies are where radio rock can feel stale, and it's where Saint Asonia is able to use their veteran presence to their advantage.

Whether it's the towering hook of "Above It All", or the slower grind of "Chew Me Up", there's enough movement to the melodies where they become memorable in a way a lot of the flatter crooning you can hear from the style isn't capable of. The band proves that point themselves, with the latter of those songs having a bit after the first chorus where the vocals turn into an almost rap cadence. It not only sounds a bit out of place, but the way any melody gets sapped out only to be rebuilt later on, is proof maintaining that edge is hard even for people who know what they're doing.

But I think the best comparison I can make is this; during parts of "So What" in particular, Saint Asonia sounds like the band Fozzy wishes they could be. There's a similar tonality to the music and vocals, but one band is able to use that to write powerful sounding songs, while the other sounds like they are wearing a costume of a better band. Adam's voice strains as he sings lyrics questioning himself, while Chris Jericho's voice isn't strong enough to carry his bragging words. That's the difference, and it is audible in every second of the music.

We also get a cover of The Weeknd's "Blinding Lights", which fits into a trend I used to love; the 'rocked up' pop song. For as much as rock fans don't want to hear it, great pop songs and great rock songs aren't that different at the core of how they are written, and embracing that doesn't make you lesser in any way. We do want people to like our music, after all, don't we?

Saint Asonia are good at this. They should be, with as much experience as they have. The only problem with this release is that it's only an EP with six new songs. I might want a bit more than that when I sit down to listen, but exiting on a high note is not such a bad thing. It sort of worked for George Costanza.