DAWNBRINGER "NUCLEUS" (Profound Lore)

One of US metal's most undeservedly obscure and wholly under appreciated bands returns with their latest full length and it's mind-bogglingly good. For years Dawnbringer have lurked in the shadows, hiding in the crevices of extreme music's facade, continually serving up neo-classical hyperthrashing onslaughts for those diligent and patient enough to seek out the records. Now on Profound Lore i can only hope that Dawnbringer will receive more exposure and show so many sorry, sorry bands how metal should be played. This is some TRVE underground shit, played with a reverence for the classics and a professionalism and attention to detail that blows away most anyone else fucking around with this sort of recidivism.
"Nucleus" sees little change from the last record aside from an interest in writing longer songs. In that regard this feels more like a proper record as opposed to the "glorified EP" feeling that the shorter compositions foistered upon predecessor "In Sickness and in Dreams." The moment "Nucleus" starts blasting into the headphones you feel like you've been dropped in the midst of something fierce and utterly epic. You might as well be standing in a raging circle of horse-mounted knights doing battle, while dust and blood kicks into your eyes and the air rings with the sounds of death and battle. Obviously the classicism of Dawnbringer's approach lends to this cliched medieval feel, but when the riffs are this fucking fantastic you can't complain.
This is a guitarist's band and even more so this record is a six string wet dream. If you could seamlessly intertwine the symphonic riffing of Iron Maiden with the speed of early Megadeth you'd be getting close to the sort of chops on display throughout "Nucleus." Mastermind Chris Black brings some serious A-gaming to the table as far as shredding goes-tasteful shredding, even!-and defies every band on the planet to do better. This is a guy who's lived and breathed metal his entire life and it shows in the output. He even manages to once again integrate some modern black metal influence into Dawnbringer as evidenced by the minimalist blast beat punishments in "The Devil." His vocals have gotten cleaner without losing any of their intensity-overall i'm reminded of a slightly less hoarse version of Lemmy with a little Wino thrown in for good measure-and it works with the music perfectly, adding to the overall feel of metal romance and classical composition on display.
There's few bands mining this territory with any real success. I can think mainly of Hammers of Misfortune and Slough Feg, and i attribute their mastery of the form to the same reason as Chris Black's: these guys live metal. It's deep in the blood. It's like hearing an Iron Maiden riff and having to headbang to it no matter where you are. It's stopping the radio dial every time you hear the faintest snippet of Judas Priest. It's a fervent belief in the importance and vitality of this style of music and the fact that it's contributed so much to the lives of so many disaffected, jaded kids. "Nucleus" is a masterpiece of metal-as force, as music, as lifestyle. Don't fucking sleep on this.

HOPELESS "ELEMENTS" (Kunsthauch)

Sheer agonized and ghosting black metal drenched under the weight of its own wallowing sorrow, creating a crushing feeling of depressing oppression and truly living up to the name Hopeless. This is some serious end-times wrist slitting music-there's nothing but bleakness here and not a single glimmer of optimism. Even the feelings of regret shoved into this record reek of dismissal and failure, a picture of a life lived poorly, bereft of every good thing save memories of loss, disappointment and dead wishes. Yearning is transformed into lament and every desire becomes a taunting, choking piece of bile tossed back into the heart. This is someone's therapy and that feeling easily puts this record into a league with Lyrinx and Austere for me.
The sound is appropriately cavernous, with every instrument soaked in saturating, bloated reverb, creating a mountainous and distant sound. While this approach isn't new to suicidal BM, Hopeless certainly understands the atmosphere it's meant to create and exploits it to great effect. That distancing creates an extreme sense of dischord and hallucigenia in the listener, crafting an aura of unease throughout the album's runtime that's incredibly difficult to get past. This is a tense and volatile listening experience, not for faint ears or faint hearts. Like i said-wrist slitting music through and through.
Also at work is the standard Burzum-esque simplicity and repetition found at the heart of the best suicidal/depressive BM (which really isn't simple at all). Sound is layered and time is fucked with throughout, so guitars become hazes of washed out distortions and pianos become chiming bells tolling doom and end. Drums pound relentlessly and without variation, reinforcing the idea of waiting for death, the one wish that could possibly be granted by self-volition and willpower. The vocals are simply outstanding, hyper distorted and swirled in echo while being pushed way into the red and then buried. It's a superb and tortured performance that could only have been born of real and ample frustrations and while not the equal of Lyrinx or Make A Change...Kill Yourself, it certainly deserves a place in their company.
While the above comparisons are apt, perhaps the closest would be to Shining, as least in terms of aesthetic mission. While Hopeless aren't as near as complex or dissonant as Shining the emotions and intent seem almost exactly the same. Both projects are therapeutic for their creators, offering intensely personal takes on black metal that are meant more to exorcise personal sadnesses and angers than they are to appeal to the black metal audience at large. For that reason, in a lot of art, i find misunderstanding amongst many. For me it isn't worth a fuck if it isn't personal. There's a coterie of individuals who understand that and make art with that in mind, who have to do it because to not do it would be suicide. The power there is obvious-it's profoundly affecting and sometimes unnerving to digest-and it's waiting for those who would seek it out. Hopeless have made that sort of art with "Elements" and it awaits you in all its shrouding glory.

SPORADIC POSTINGS

Whoa. It's been a long time since i've posted anything here. I know i've been remiss-the only explanation i can offer for my legions of devoted readers is that shit has changed dramatically over the last few months (for the better) and i just don't have the time to sit down and write like i used to. That isnlt to say that the house isn't crashing under the weight of piles of new music-it is, just as much as always, and i'm listening to it-it's just that the oodles of free empty time aren't there anymore. I'm going to try and post more frequently. I just received a ton of stuff from the Kunsthauch label, so i'm going to start off by reviewing some of their records. Thanks for waiting.

-Cory

BORIS WITH IAN ASTBURY "BXI" (Southern Lord)

I don't know that i really even need to review Boris records anymore because at this point, for me, this is a band that can do absolutely no wrong. Every recent release has been so fucking consistently awesome and goosebump-inducing that i've pretty much come to the point where all i'm going to do is rock the fuck out once the needle hits the wax. This one keeps up that fine tradition and more. I'm very very pleased to say that this record is FUCKING AMAZING.
The facts: it's a four song EP, 20 minutes in length, with Boris being fronted by the heartbreaking, defeated-by-life vocals of the Cult's Ian Astbury. It's one of the strongest collection of songs this band has ever thrown together, at once remorselessly heavy, hypnotically simple and wrist-slittingly, hands-raised-to-the sky-in-wonder-and contemplation gorgeous. Much of this comes from Astbury's top notch singing-he takes these songs and interprets them from a point of view that Boris themselves may not have been able to. His style lends an epic, weathered feel to everything, adding a weary aura of resignation that can only come from true experience and reflection. His lyrics are obtuse and magic-obsessed, but i still can't help but feel a deep sort of sadness and questioning in what he's presenting to us. It's really striking, affecting and wonderful. Boris in turn play to Astbury's sensibilities and aesthetics, drenching their songs in massive 80's-rock style reverb replete with those stupefyingly gigantic Phil Collins X1000 drums that so defined the era. It's at once referential to Astbury's pedigree and a calculated stylistic choice that suits the work.
This is an excellent pairing, and kudos go out to whomever suggested this collaboration. Someone obviously knew the strengths these two would bring and help bring out in each other. Astbury sounds like a natural power unleashed, and Boris have crafted some of their finest, most accessible (but still-ALWAYS-fucking heavy) material. The only complaint is the easiest to make-the record is too short. I'd love to see a full length and a tour, but for now this is enough. This one goes down as absolutely fucking essential, highest possible recommendation. But i didn't need to write that, did i?

BE PERSECUTED "END LEAVING" (No Colours)

Supremely gorgeous, ultra-dreamy wrist-slitting black metal violence from China's Be Persecuted. Their first album from a few years ago was a favorite of mine (still is), a totally blown out demonstration of depressing holocaust rendered into the black metal template with the only discernible goal being to provide a soundtrack to a million suicides, distanced and cold yet so intimate, affecting and disturbing. This album blows that one away.
What amazes me most about Eastern bands is their ability to absorb the coolest musics from around the world and then spit them back out into something that completely destroys the original. Japan is the finest example of this, and perhaps Boris the best known practitioner, but after hearing Be Persecuted's output i may have to rethink the rankings of removed, repressed or ridiculously enthusiastic cultures that are best able to co-opt musical genres. This is Burzum worship to the extreme, a pure and crystalline distillation of all the things that made "Filosofem" so fucking great. Repetition? Check. Wavering, hypnotic trebly riffs? Check. Beyond hysteria-style vocals that sound like shrieks of frigid wind? Check. Glorification of suicide and self-destruction? Fuck yes. This is a band that promotes immolation, as near an audial equivalent to crippling loneliness as you're likely to find. Every melody is a stare-at-the-floor-and-weep masterpiece. Distortion runs rampant but over everything, almost every song, is a wispy, mournful washout of clean guitar ambience, bubbling over and clouding things up. It's like a little flower of hope trying to bloom up through the cracks of an industrial wastepark. This shit is going to give you goosebumps.
Some may find fault with the lack or originality on display here. To a certain extent i've wrestled with that question but the bottom line is the quality of the music and this is some superlative fucking depressive black metal. Just because every riff has an obvious source doesn't mean its played without passion or feeling. I can't believe this band could put so much into this kind of music and not be honest about it. Coming from as notorious a locale as China only serves to amplify the obvious importance this music must have to these shadowy practitioners of black metal art. This is staggeringly good and i cannot give it high enough praise-file this one next to Lyrinx, Silencer and Shining in terms of mesmerizing nihilistic depression and prepare to be emotionally overwhelmed. So fucking good, gorgeous and beautiful and so so very very haunting.

SKULLFLOWER/WHITE MEDAL "SPLIT" (Turgid Animal/Legion Blotan)

Normally i don't review seven inches as i find the format far too limiting but i'm making a notable exception because of this putrified slab of rotted wax from the much beloved by me Skullflower, here sharing a black circle with ultra-primal underground black metal entity White Medal.
And true black metal this is. This record reeks of the spirit, more drenched and thick than most records i've heard in the last year. Some people are true channels, true shamans, true gateways, and when they turn their hand to something they're able to call forth visions and images more frightening than you could have though existed. Matthew Bower is such a person. I'm getting to the point where i can't even consider him of this earth anymore-he's so far beyond earthly touchpoints and so immersed in his own violent, elliptical universe that to chain him to one dimensional existence seems an incredible disservice. If "Great Hunter" is Bower's approximation/interpretation of black metal, then i want more of it, and i want it RIGHT FUCKING NOW. This is one of the best, hands-down flooring Skullflower tracks that i have ever born witness to. If you know me and my preferences then you are aware this statement is not made lightly. Bower sticks to simple chord forms and turns in an actual song but rather than being a redundant return to tradition this approach leads Skullflower to some dank, shrouded sacrificial altar where the song becomes a black mass hymnal, a calling to darker others and a blanketing of darkness around the caller. This is the sound of void and this is the sound of rebirth, erupting out of the particle smearing of near seven minutes of earth time. Whether this was part of a larger composition is rendered an irrelevancy; Bower forces you to exist in the NOW with him, thrusting you into a cold, horrifying, infinite blank, a howl and an abyss that threatens to swallow all. Simply fucking stunning in every way possible. Bower to me is at an absolute creative peak and shows no signs of slowing down or fucking up; even the short run time (which has been a point of contention in the past for me with Skullflower vinyl releases) fails to negate the nullifying power of this composition.
You'd think White Medal would have to be awfully fucking good to hold up to Skullflower's side of this split, and fuck yes, they are. Their side is a hissing lo-fidelity blast of raw, in the red ultra stripped down black metal recidivism, recalling both its punk roots and it's more regressive modern leanings by way of acts like Akitsa or Bone Awl. This is some seriously noisy shit with white-hot vocals fed through a shredder, a sound akin to lumps of choking earth being forced down an unwilling supplicant's throat. I'm impressed by the electricity of it and feel that it adequately matches Bower's contribution, albeit in a more digestible, less obtuse form.
This is a release not to be missed by any measure. If you're into "extreme" sounds (a lot of people think they are but aren't anywhere close) there is no fucking excuse not to have this. Fucking essential for fans of Skullflower, mayhaps the future right before our very eyes. This is where black metal could go if it achieved its true potential and was freed from theoretical aesthetic obligations. Necessary and utterly transcendent.

THE MELVINS "THE END" (Enterruption)

Extremely limited live LP from the Melvins. Unfortunately the quality of the performance doesn't quite match the scarcity of this album; i remember being distinctly disappointed when this sucker sold out in about 20 minutes, but now, having heard it, i feel pretty okay about missing out (although the collector in me still yearns a little bit to see it glowing all neon fuschia on the shelf...it'd be pretty awesome.)
The show itself is recorded well, soundboard at least, from the 2003 tour. The lineup is classic as well-Buzz, Dale and Kevin Rutmanis-but the set is way too short and seems to be a bit of the Melvins by numbers. The most annoying aspect of the whole presentation is the presence of some fairly terrible edits between tracks-i would imagine them the result of necessary trimming to fit the original cassette onto an LP-but there's just no fucking way that you should ever cut ANY part of "Nightgoat" (especially the end-always the best stuff there as space begins to just fall away and a sort of improvisational noise vacuum births itself screaming from the Melvins' wretched maelstrom.) You know you're missing something every time it happens and that really sucks. I wonder how many other Melvins devotees noticed and felt the same way?
The other glaring error is a bit of a dissolve between the band in the midst of the massive "Revolve/We All Love Judy/The Brain Center at Whipples" medley the guys were doing on this tour. They seem to lose one another ever so slightly when Buzzo leads into the ridiculous metal-math riffing of "Judy" and they never quite get it back throughout the remainder. I can forgive the Melvins for having an off night-they've rocked my ears to shit porridge enough nights for me to let a little slip in one of their most technically demanding tracks slide-but why wouldn't they just use a different take from a different night of the tour, or fuck, a different show altogether? Seeing the Melvins so many times has let me witness the fact that the set list doesn't change at all on any given trek, so why'd they okay this?
A bootleg is a bootleg. If it's from a band you love (which is the case here) then any live stuff is cool, especially when it's professionally pressed and kinda-sorta authorized/recognized as an official entry in the discography. But not every live show is essential and not every performance is revelatory, which sadly dooms this LP to a rating of inessential curio at best, a collector's/completist's cash vortex at worst.
The Melvins still fucking rule, though.