Album Review: PAIN - "I Am"

Asking an existential question – at what point does the ‘side project’ band supersede the original band?  For PAIN seems to have become more important to the catalog and indeed, legacy, of frontman Peter Tägtgren than Hypocrisy.  For his own part, Tägtgren seems to take turns between the faces of his music. To wit, Hypocrisy released records in 2013 and 2021; PAIN took its turn in 2016 and now in 2024.  

All of that is said to make no point other than that Tägtgren takes both projects seriously and with equal dedication.  To pass off either one as subservient, regardless of fan reaction, sales numbers or press, is a mistake and undersells the talent of a man who can compose in two very different styles as the mood suits him.

PAIN comes back to the fore this spring with “I Am,” a declarative album that, in short, hits many of the trademarks of PAIN, but never quite delivers the multi-faceted bombastic experience of its predecessor, “Coming Home.”

That’s not to say that “I Am” lacks entirely for laudable moments.  “Party in My Head” uses a synth intro and sparse verses to set the stage for a big chorus that fits perfectly within the pantheon of PAIN’s greatest hits.  The title track utilizes the same tricks, but tempers the tempo and moderates the chorus with a lovingly-borrowed-from-NIN synth track that makes the song as grandiose as Tägtgren is capable of writing.  If his initial idea for PAIN was to combine synth rock and heavy metal, these are the two songs that most exemplify that dream on “I Am.”

Speaking of the composition, Tägtgren has always been a straight-ahead lyricist when it comes to PAIN, utilizing no metaphor and even less subtlety to express whatever the subject of his song is.  When Tägtgren yells “suck my balls” leading into the chorus of “Not For Sale,” there’s little room for interpretation there.  Coincidentally, this whole theorem of lyricism lends itself to a continuing trend in PAIN songs – they are gleefully shouted as from the mouth of an exasperated, godlike figure, who barely has enough attention to bother about the concerns of mere mortals.  It’s a no-nonsense approach that occasionally treads the lines of both cringe and tedium, but Tägtgren knows the boundaries well and manages to keep his style fresh.

The issue with “I Am” is that the album never really pushes the envelope the way PAIN has in the past.  The production is thick as can be (two-C thicc, as the kids say,) blasting the listener with a density of sound that is often imitated but never quite duplicated, but there never seems to be a reason why other than that’s what’s expected from PAIN.  

In the end, too many of the album’s cuts sound like variations on a theme, rather than continually novel uses for industrial might.  “Coming Home” was a tour de force because Tägtgren crammed a lot into a small package – the twangy, hammering blast of “Designed to Piss You Off,” the sardonic thump of “Call Me” the yearning of the title track, the insistent march of “Final Crusade.”  Too much of “I Am” feels like a narrow valley of pop rock dressed in fantastic, spike-laden armor.

It's hard to call an album like this ‘hollow,’ because of the sheer cannonball of sound that is ejected at the listener at ramming speed.  Still, there’s something missing here; a sense of adventure perhaps, or the daring to see what else is beyond the bounds.  It is worth mentioning that “I Am” was better the second time through than the first, but don’t be shocked if “Coming Home” finds its way back into your playlist instead.