Favorite Albums By Decade

We all have our own way of looking at the world, and one of the things that doesn't mesh with my perspective is the fascination we see with 'catalog music'. Older music is as popular as anything new, more so depending on the metric we are measuring with, but I never dove deeply into the past. Once I was interested in music, I was looking forward, I was more interested in what was new and yet to come.

That isn't to say I don't like some music from the older days, but they are things I came to through other means. It isn't music of my time, and I sense the difference. My listening in any of the decades before I became a fan is limited, but some of those records are important. Today, let's see which records from each decade are my favorites.

60s: The Beatles - Rubber Soul
Runner Up: The Beatles - Abbey Road

Pretty much the whole of my listening from the 60s consists of The Beatles. Between the production aesthetic, and the place in the evolution of music, not much from that time speaks to me. The Beatles are inescapable, though, so I have succumbed to them as everyone else has. My taste might be a bit different, however. I don't like "Sgt Pepper" very much, and vastly prefer the acoustic nature of "Rubber Soul". There's an atmosphere to that record that sounds more timeless than their other works, and perhaps it's because none of their other records are quite as melancholy. As for "Abbey Road", it's a wonderful illustration of how sometimes not expanding on every idea can be a good decision. I wonder how much better "The White Album" would have been as a medley, rather than a chore.

70s: Meat Loaf - Bat Out Of Hell
Runner Up: Bruce Springsteen - Darkness On The Edge Of Town

The first album I ever heard from before my own existence was "Bat Out Of Hell", and I wonder what it says about me that it remains my favorite. I'm sure it means I'm soft, and far too impressionable. Whatever the case, few records have ever been as important to defining me as that one has, so there isn't much competition in that decade. Yes, it was the era of classic rock, but I can honestly say most of that music is lost on me. Springsteen's angsty, brooding album is one of the few from that era I am attached to. It's a better record than "Born To Run" in every way, and in some ways I feel like it was a precursor to emo. Weird, huh? I could have also picked one of the Rainbow records, but my taste in Dio has shifted toward...

80s: Black Sabbath - Heaven & Hell
Runner Up: Elvis Costello - King Of America

Dio's time with Back Sabbath was a true moment of the fates aligning. All three records they made together were fabulous, but none were ever better than the first. The spark of something new was in the air, and they made perhaps the best metal record ever. Dio was at the peak of his powers, and this statement from 1980 set a bar the rest of the decade struggled to ever approach. On the flip side, my other favorite record from the decade was Elvis Costello's diversion into Americana. I have learned so much about songwriting from that album, and remain amazed by a genre experiment working this well. Apologies to "Reign In Blood" and "Appetite For Destruction", but they can't win here.

90s: Meat Loaf - Bat Out Of Hell II
Runner Up: Tonic - Lemon Parade

Now we get into the tough ones. The 90s are when I was falling in love with music, and they are how I still define myself. It was Meat Loaf here that led me down this path, and that record is still one of the few that sweeps me up i a feeling of nostalgia I can't escape. It's a journey every time I listen to it, and it's become more than just music to me. Tonic doesn't hit me quite at that level, but not only did they spend decades as my favorite band, but this album is the reason I started playing music myself. So no matter how much I love "Four" or "Yourself Or Someone Like You", or can't get out of the dysfunctional relationship I have with "Pinkerton", they can't compete with those binding ties.

00s: Jimmy Eat World - Futures
Runner Up: The Wallflowers - Breach

For as much as I love the 90s, the top two albums on my most recent ranking of my all-time favorites are these. "Futures" remains my go-to album when I'm feeling blue, and one of the few instances where I appreciate that a favorite is an outlier in a discography. I'm honestly not sure it would mean as much if it was followed by another record that tried to do the same thing. The same could be said about "Breach", but it's less an album than a weird collection of poetic ideas. It feeds a unique part of my soul.

10s: Halestorm - Vicious
Runner Up - Graveyard - Hisingen Blues

This is the toughest decade to pick. Since we first sat down to review the decade at its conclusion, I haven't been able to figure out which of these two album I should put above the other. Part of me loves Graveyard too much for it not to win, because it's the sort of album that reaches across time to tie together the entirety of our musical journey. The other part of me loves Halestorm just as much, because Lzzy is one of the rarest voices who can cut me deeply with just a few notes. In the end, no one loses here, but I feel like the decade was more defined by Halestorm for two reasons; Lzzy being a godsend, but also Graveyard owing so much to the past.

And we'll save the 20s for a few years down the line, when we have a better picture of which albums are going to stand the test of time.

Singles Roundup: Daughtry, Anette Olzon, Nightmare, & Bon Jovi

Another week, another crop of new songs to talk about.

Daughtry - Pieces

It was nice to hear on his last album that Daughtry had returned to his roots, and left behind most of the lighter modern pop touches that had pushed me away. This new song follows suit, sounding quite a bit like a track from his debut album, if you put it through a slightly darker filter. The guitars are a bit lower, rumbling with just the right amount of heaviness, while his voice defies time. When he reaches for a bit of grit in the chorus, it takes me right back to the old days. It doesn't hurt that the hook of the song feels like it was written back then too, and if anything, is slightly less pop than when he was at his most roking. That's an interesting turn of events, and it tells me Daughtry might still have something left to offer. I'm not sure if he can deliver entire records anymore, but I'll take what I can get.

Anette Olzon - Day Of Wrath

The year is still early, and I'm already feeling overwhelmed with disappointments. Look, I love Anette's voice, but these songs just aren't doing it for me. I said when the first single came out that she seems to get Magnus Karlsson's worst material, and I stand by that statement. The approach of pairing her with clipped choruses and harsh guest vocals doesn't work for me at all. Anette is best when she is soaring and melodic, and this solo album sounds like it going to be in line with her last, which I didn't think could hold a candle to either the Allen/Olzon albums Magnus wrote, nor the two albums she put out as a member of The Dark Element. The third most interesting of her outlets isn't good enough, sorry.

Nightmare - Saviors Of The Damned

Band turmoil is rarely a good thing. For the third time in three albums, Nightmare has a new singer. I absolutely loved "Dead Sun" with Maggy Luyten singing, and I still think it's a tremendous record that shows just how heavy and aggressive power(ish) metal can be. "Aeternum" took a while to warm up to, but once I did it became a worthy follow up, with a voice that opened up different melodic contours. This first taste of yet another new singer is not nearly as encouraging. The bad is still playing their heavy version of power metal, but this singer can't match their power at all. She sounds overmatched, and at times disappears into the mix. The melody itself isn't the greatest, but it's the balance that is off. She doesn't sound like the right singer for this band, and I get it. Finding that many people to be the right fit means you're probably going to miss eventually. That might be this one.

Bon Jovi - Legendary

I know they still sell plenty of records and tickets, but are there really many people who like what Bon Jovi has been doing for the last twenty years? He certainly matured into the age of dad rock, and I suppose I have to give him credit for not trying to portray himself as still being young and dangerous. Jon knows his limitations, and he plays to them accordingly. The biggest issue is that whether it's the framing of his songwriting, or his obviously diminishing voice, the songs lately come across entirely bland. He can't sing with passion, and his stories don't have hooks the way Tommy and Gina got us to pray along with them. This song is another one that is rock without rocking in the slightest, and serves mostly to remind me how long it's been since Bon Jovi has felt vital.

"Tabula Rasa" Is Still A Fresh Start, Even Now

It's rare to have a moment in time when you think you can see the future. It's always a guess, but the feeling is unmistakable. I can probably count on one hand all the times it has happened while listening to music, and among those the one that stands out the clearest was hearing Bloodbound's "Tabula Rasa" for the first time.

I had discovered the band when they released their debut album, and was disappointed when the follow-up couldn't hold the lineup together even that long, so having the ship right itself for the third record was the sort of second chance you don't usually get. While the band was derivative, they were fun, and I was still enamored enough with power metal to want more. That isn't exactly what we got.

Bloodbound has proven themselves over all these years to be a derivative band, indeed, without anything I would consider an identity of their own. Each album cycle is a guessing game as to which other band they will be taking on that time around. What still stands out as the oddest choice they've ever made is the record that endures not just as their best album, but the one that I feel set the stage for an entire strain of power metal we see to this day, even if no one has ever matched the original.

You wouldn't associate Soilwork with power metal, and yet it is that band whose influence is heaviest on "Tabula Rasa". Gone are the galloping Iron Maiden riffs, replaced with the mechanical precision of Swedish melodeath (or at least as it was at the time). The rhythms take over everything, with chunky stabs of muted guitar matching the kick drums to hit us over the head with the percussive force of the band. This cedes the entire melodic realm to Urban Breed, who is able to take that backdrop and paint sticky melodies in the empty space. Fusing melody and rhythm is not easy, and many have failed to do it, but much like Fear Factory signaled a new era when they first did the same thing, Bloodbound was changing the course of power metal.

We now have bands like Dynazty and others who have taken up the mantle and tried to follow through on the blueprint, but no one has managed to quite do it as well as Bloodbound. That tells me it was probably a happy accident, but even though others have not been able to match the feat, it opened up possibilities the stale genre desperately needed. Even if they are as unoriginal as the more traditional bands, in their own way, that staleness still sounds fresher than the alternative.

Putting the album on now, the first seconds when the guitars kick in after the twinkling synths remains a kick in the teeth, and something none of the similar records that have followed has been able to do. "Tabula Rasa" caught me off-guard, surprised me, and then executed at the highest order of songwriting. Urban had some master plan in his mind, and while he decided to keep that hidden behind a cypher that makes himself sound more clever than he is, the inspiration carries through into the music. There is a power to this record that sounds heavier than similar bands, and his voice is given more room to soar and emote. When he hits the powerful notes in the chorus of "Plague Doctor", I can hear everything missing from the more modern mixes that followed.

Sadly, the band would implode once again after this record. Urban would make a good record with a new band of his own, only to then find himself out of his own creation, and the cycle continued again. Bloodbound would find stability in copying the paths of others. This brief chapter was something difficult, something that obviously was not built to last, but its impact is something that still resonates. We hear it in the more modern and heavier version of power metal out there in the market, and I would say it also echoes in music like Soen's recent records, where we continue to see that rhythm and melody don't have to be opponents.

"Tabula Rasa" was very much a fresh slate for power metal, and it sounds nearly as fresh right now as it did on that first listen. It was a vision of a future we are still trying to perfect, but it showed us a path to get there. In a world where so much music winds up blending together, "Tabula Rasa" stands apart, even now.

EP Review: Alestorm - "Voyage of the Dead Marauder"

It is the pinnacle of satire when the artist performing it composes a piece of art that surpasses the original genre being parodied.  The most famous recent example of this is Joss Whedon’s “Cabin in the Woods,” where the movie not only successfully poked fun at all the tropes of the slasher film genre, but was simultaneously the best slasher film to be released in years.

Through this lens is how one could view “Voyage of the Dead Marauder,” the lead single on the new EP of the same name from Alestorm, the forever vitriolic and acerbic pirate metal band from Scotland. 

Intentionally or accidentally, Alestorm has always existed at something of cross purposes to power metal – always the kids at the back of the classroom, wearing sunglasses and napping during the lecture, and interpreting the lessons in their own idiomatic fashion, to the delight of their classmates but the stern disapproval of their teacher.  

And yet, here comes this title track, backed by the sanguine vocals of Patty Gurdy, and it might well be the best power metal song written by anyone not named Powerwolf in the past five years!  It hits all the right hallmarks – the soaring chorus, the singalong vocals, the powerful and melodic riffs that harmonize with the accessible rhythm underneath.  It all coalesces into Alestorm showing everyone how its done after years of thumbing their nose at the surrounding crowd. As a side note, Patty Gurdy was the best possible choice for the accompanying vocals.  If it had been Floor Jansen, or Simone Simons or whomever else, it would have been too much.  Gurdy’s voice is natural and believable, more apt for this kind of swaggering tavern shanty than the other singers’ inherent pitch perfection.

That’s not all the EP has to offer, though.  We careen into consecutive songs about Uzbekistan and pirates from Saskatchewan, both of which are enjoyable successes.  Alestorm’s chosen musical style only leaves them a certain number of avenues they can take without plunging into repetition, so the songs have to exist as functions of their themes and lyrics.  To that end, Alestorm makes this EP work by crafting fun and goofy tunes about unusual corners of the world, different than the ones they’ve written before.

And then, “Cock,” keeping alive the tradition of Alestorm writing one deplorable, gleefully and hilariously vulgar song per recording.  This does not disappoint.

At the inception of their career, Alestorm was too frenetic, too frothing and wild-eyed to really capitalize on their potential.  The intervening fifteen-plus years have seen the band mature nicely into their talent and become real storytellers while still balancing against the natural fun and lunacy of their music.  “Voyage of the Dead Marauder,” is, to this point, the apex of this combination.

Quick Reviews: Scott Stapp & Leaves Eyes

It's another BOGO special. Ok, you're not paying me, but you get the point.

Scott Stapp - Higher Power

It's hard to believe I'm saying this, but Scott Stapp's last solo album was actually pretty good. For all the crap Creed (rightfully) takes, he came through the other side of a host of issues and made a record that washed away some of the sour taste memories of his 'holier than thou' days still leave. Not all of it, but at least a little.

His latest album continues on a similar path, and his collaborators have once again helped him put together an album that sounds entirely in line with where modern rock is, playing to his strengths as one of the more unusual voices you're ever going to hear. The way he yarls a melody is unique, and it certainly is able to make some hooks far more memorable than they might be sung by any other voice.

The up-tempo, heavy numbers on this record do just that. Stapp feels comfortable singing them, and they have solid hooks that rival the usual far you would hear on the radio (if you dare turn it on). It's a clear indication that Stapp still has something to offer, and it almost leads us to an album I would tell you to listen to. The problem is that there are also three slow ballads on this record, and as a schmuck who loves ballads, these aren't good. The soft and slow nature is antithetical to what good his voice can do, and they are horribly bland and boring. It's just enough to tip the scales from good album to ok album.

Still, that might be enough of a surprise to be worth a peek.

Leaves Eyes - Myths Of Fate

No matter how many times I try to dip my toe into this genre, I never find myself wanting to wade any further. Leaves Eyes is good at what they do, but have you ever had certain sounds that don't appeal to your ears? That's what I feel this variety of symphonic metal to be. I don't understand the need to throw harsh vocals in from time to time. The whole 'beauty and the beast' thing goes against the very nature of this music being melodic. Perhaps it would work better if they were baritone clean vocals that could mesh with the emotion of the lead vocal? I'm not sure.

The other thing is that, no matter how many singers I hear who get praised to the heavens, I'm uncomfortable with the more classical vocal approach. It's a tone of voice I don't enjoy, and I've never thought it meshes very well with the power of metal. There are good songs on this record, and I think I would like them a fair amount if the band's sound was different, but I'm not being won over by how they are presented here.

The other thing is that with the rather digital production going along with the classical vocals, these bands never sound heavy to me at all. It comes across being loud music played softly, and it makes it very hard for there to be palpable energy to get me involved. I guess this genre will always elude me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cold Years - Choke

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

Blues Pills - Birthday

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

"There Is Nothing" Not To Love About VK Lynne

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quick Reviews: New Years Day & Dragonforce

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

New Years Day - Half Black Heart

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

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

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

Dragonforce - Warp Speed Warriors

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

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

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

Album Review: Whom Gods Destroy - Insanium

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's reach into the grab bag once again:

Anette Olzon - Heed The Call

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

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

Orden Ogan - My Worst Enemy

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

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

The Wonder Years - Year Of The Vulture

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

Black Country Communion - Stay Free

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

Quick Reviews: Art Of Anarchy & Mick Mars

We can knock these out quickly:

Art Of Anarchy - Let There Be Anarchy

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

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

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

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

Mick Mars - The Other Side Of Mars

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

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

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

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

Words, Words, Words...

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

But why is this?

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

Then I didn't exactly fail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Album Review: Bruce Dickinson - The Mandrake Project

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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