tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5849414364617660642024-03-06T00:39:07.269+00:00A Town Called Bastardayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-69621852265153759932014-10-21T20:54:00.003+01:002014-10-21T22:46:21.272+01:00Music Review: Godflesh - "A World Lit Only By Fire"<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSo2sbzaY7O1o1bGtDCaZhUBonVJGFlj_9yxQ91KDJIQSTylpr1r3XzhNRtNuqaTUIU7x2GqAut7zZmfm7IpnXdujzpIvVtnEj4G0ZWZw5mf3uwsGqGrugNgvyfD-OQROvItIeqaK-Am4/s1600/Godflesh_-_A_World_Lit_Only_by_Fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSo2sbzaY7O1o1bGtDCaZhUBonVJGFlj_9yxQ91KDJIQSTylpr1r3XzhNRtNuqaTUIU7x2GqAut7zZmfm7IpnXdujzpIvVtnEj4G0ZWZw5mf3uwsGqGrugNgvyfD-OQROvItIeqaK-Am4/s1600/Godflesh_-_A_World_Lit_Only_by_Fire.jpg" height="294" width="320" /></a>Reviewing comeback albums is an absolute minefield. Do you
criticise a band against their previous work relentlessly, or allow for the
time that has passed and what that has wrought on them as people? The art they
create will change, skills may grow rusty and the zeitgeist evolves around
them.</div>
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It’s a difficult one to answer, even though the obvious
response is to snort and claim that a discography should always be judged as a
single continuum, despite the relative lengths of time that may elapse between
releases. I think that’s an oversimplified view and the easy way out. But
luckily for me, it is an approach that can be comfortably adopted with
Godflesh’s first album for 13 years.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because this is Godflesh being no-one but Godflesh. The
tools and methods are the same, the end result is unmistakeably Broadrick and
Green doing what they do. And what they do is punishing.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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Previous Godflesh albums have been violent, but the violence
was always that of a scalpel. Admittedly it was a huge, diabolical scalpel,
wielded with tremendous force as well as precision. But the violence of “A
World Lit Only By Fire” is that of a mailed fist. Four fingers and a thumb,
clenched together inside a rotting iron gauntlet, driven home hard into soft
tissue, organs and bone. A martial full stop, with no apologies or mercy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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More than ever before, these songs are driven by Broadrick’s
tortured riffs. They boom over the top of the other instrumentation, a
detonation cracking overhead as you cower in the ruined monochrome slums. At
times it actually threatens to swamp the mix - this being the greatest weakness
of the album, in that the rhythm section is almost reduced to a drowned
metronome in the background. It seems odd to say that of a Godflesh release,
especially Green’s usual subterranean bass – here an echo in a nearby cave
rather than the faultline-cracking explosions of previous releases.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It isn’t jarring enough to impede the casual listener, but
hardcore soundheads may find it a mild irritant – especially given Broadrick’s
record for consistently putting out music that sounds as if the mix has been
pored over with a fine steel toothcomb to produce exactly the required levels to
conjure up hell and brimstone in the human forebrain. Don’t get me wrong. I’m
sure that is exactly what has happened. I’m just not convinced that I
appreciate it in comparison to how I think the album could have sounded with a
more textured approach.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“How I think the album could have sounded”. The sheer
arrogance of criticism at work.</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3VQuJsr5RJejWJS-Xq9td49C85-biJPll5_1AWPUxqf9DYvewY3oYcaADDQqszldeQOLA8lvJFv0spN5GJM8q5tvpDllq7SZbRAGjiOO0cvmuhN43talN3JRk3CbqeZ8hbZvHitztEEY/s1600/godflesh-2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3VQuJsr5RJejWJS-Xq9td49C85-biJPll5_1AWPUxqf9DYvewY3oYcaADDQqszldeQOLA8lvJFv0spN5GJM8q5tvpDllq7SZbRAGjiOO0cvmuhN43talN3JRk3CbqeZ8hbZvHitztEEY/s1600/godflesh-2014.jpg" height="253" width="320" /></a>Sound issues aside though, this is a rock solid entry into
Godflesh’s monumental catalogue. The likes of the unbelievable organic
avalanche of ‘Carrion’ and the closing industrial-thrash riffage of ‘Curse Us
All’ are as convincing and brutal as any other metal that has seen the light of
day since the last Godflesh release. The pure vastness of the rolling riff
thunder at times swings firmly into stoner/doom groove territory, which is a
land the duo have thoroughly explored before but never on this scale or with
such consistency.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Where subtlety can be discerned in the neutron-dense mix,
such as the hip-hop turntable whistles sunk into album highlight ‘Shut Me
Down’, glimpses can be seen of the blended experimentalism of the past. This is
a rarity throughout though. I imagine there may have been a conscious effort to
segregate this release from Jesu (Broadrick’s beautiful and expansive
post-metal child), so anyone coming to it expecting the occasional more melodic
Godflesh song may be sorely disappointed - with only the occasional soaring
vocal on display.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To be frank, in a world lit only by endless cash-in band
comebacks, disappointment is a word I struggle to associate with this album. To
a certain degree it is Godflesh-by-numbers, and while it pushes metal to the
forefront in the same way as “Songs Of Love And Hate” or “Hymns”, it lacks the
bombast of the former and the minimalist defiance of the latter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That’s not to say it is better or worse than either of them,
merely more straightforward – if you are called upon to recommend a Godflesh
album to a resolute metalhead, this is now undoubtedly the place to start.
Ranking albums next to each other is a mug’s game anyway, especially with an
act so vital and pioneering. What matters is this: Godflesh are back. They are
convincingly Godflesh. And they are as fucking vicious as they have ever been.<o:p></o:p></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-8773159078470570182014-06-15T18:18:00.001+01:002014-06-19T19:53:13.510+01:00<h2 style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<b>NU-METAL SHOWDOWN: A CAUTIONARY TALE</b></h2>
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It seems so long ago now that I sat down
and wrote this statement of intent on various social media
sites:<br />
<br />
<i>“So many nu-metal vocalists shout that they're going
to beat someone up, yet so few of them are credible physical threats.
The eternal paradox. If a skinny dude with hair twizzles, a scrappy
long chin beard and bad tattoos comes at me I'm unlikely to feel
fear. That's all I'm saying.<br /><br />Well, what I'm actually saying is
that you should all fund my new Patreon project, a blog where I tour
the world and fight nu-metal singers against their will. It starts
small - slightly good-natured, grubby dust-wrestling with David
Draiman - but leads up to a grand climax where I kick the absolute
fuck out of Chester Bennington.”</i></div>
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Oh, the wild elegiac fancies of youth.
What strange desires and misguided intellectual wanderings led me to
this fever dream, and could I have strayed from the path laid down by
these words even if I could have known the Stygian depths to which I
would fall?</div>
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As reported by reputable news sites the
world over, my Patreon campaign broke several records and resulted in
beautifully-worded tributes from both celebrities and the general
public. I'll include some here, since it is vital to your
understanding of this whole affair that you understand what led to
the proud swelling of my chest as I strode forth to my Herculean
task.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRblBjBjY9YTRxjb8XW0m2pFjqffairjDYbhyphenhyphenjMz2yM-kQSTrpXbTIlmF2RojAy78vDRrV78BObEdiT8yCp1CQuvs8HxUu9NudljWkjKxifQ_b3GGoUdEhmRfS9d_nn8HMss10dLHJNQ0/s1600/ibHDSqWycCTYNFFBuZuwDATS.jpg20140615-2-1ttcstw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRblBjBjY9YTRxjb8XW0m2pFjqffairjDYbhyphenhyphenjMz2yM-kQSTrpXbTIlmF2RojAy78vDRrV78BObEdiT8yCp1CQuvs8HxUu9NudljWkjKxifQ_b3GGoUdEhmRfS9d_nn8HMss10dLHJNQ0/s1600/ibHDSqWycCTYNFFBuZuwDATS.jpg20140615-2-1ttcstw.jpg" height="153" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXz6tTaCGBvJormig8FNErO9UdkxxbDoFGS4UHH3v1aWkHbI66T_IX481BkR4VjN1pm2hDBwMlr20R7Xd-xVBNTwccWcQk_gtt9dRIRW1-uZlNyLpcZaKns9Z6HTC6baWckAXI7uaol9g/s1600/qcpkuIlLICdaFADjLephJjHz.jpg20140615-2-1mgutt0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXz6tTaCGBvJormig8FNErO9UdkxxbDoFGS4UHH3v1aWkHbI66T_IX481BkR4VjN1pm2hDBwMlr20R7Xd-xVBNTwccWcQk_gtt9dRIRW1-uZlNyLpcZaKns9Z6HTC6baWckAXI7uaol9g/s1600/qcpkuIlLICdaFADjLephJjHz.jpg20140615-2-1mgutt0.jpg" height="171" width="320" /></a></div>
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And then, of course, this infamous
missive. Only later would the full significance of these words be
felt, but at the time all I knew was that a gauntlet had been laid
down. Would I rise to this challenge? Could I?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovxivqeFc5IMdTe73EKWEinGtAYiQopfXzN_FkiCyO1Hk-pss5Fmq81GvxIto10jNFnAe0fTJHBs8DQM4tb4zcapbHBHDAUlA7UZzPSY1VAhkl5CTVavkp8a4o3GuGKZKkHG8WWYcduY/s1600/mmShAUPVjVjnkcWjHNxJsGwe.jpg20140615-2-11fbftf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovxivqeFc5IMdTe73EKWEinGtAYiQopfXzN_FkiCyO1Hk-pss5Fmq81GvxIto10jNFnAe0fTJHBs8DQM4tb4zcapbHBHDAUlA7UZzPSY1VAhkl5CTVavkp8a4o3GuGKZKkHG8WWYcduY/s1600/mmShAUPVjVjnkcWjHNxJsGwe.jpg20140615-2-11fbftf.jpg" height="153" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Fight #1 – David Draiman</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCGWv9cWxJsjFNAeWJ1PNxsu9Y3aXr5UCFLWKlM0XZjeHFEcwyAPUw7-8c7__jBn8FkGUxUVJHM9rvkVEgpy5cmicfp9GE9cVvyTeE3nZvBiyMC1hlmVMKo70c953jUFSz0cEs1_1RJo/s1600/david-draiman-distrurbed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCGWv9cWxJsjFNAeWJ1PNxsu9Y3aXr5UCFLWKlM0XZjeHFEcwyAPUw7-8c7__jBn8FkGUxUVJHM9rvkVEgpy5cmicfp9GE9cVvyTeE3nZvBiyMC1hlmVMKo70c953jUFSz0cEs1_1RJo/s1600/david-draiman-distrurbed.jpg" height="320" width="260" /></a>Since I had named my first and last
targets online, I was aware that they would know I was coming. It was
possible that they would have prepared a welcome for me in the form
of traps, bodyguards or simply through intense last-minute physical
training. With that in mind, I knew that for my first fight I would
have to strike fast and hard.<br />
Perhaps Draiman foolishly
believed the online sensation of #numetalshowdown to be an idle
threat, or perhaps he was simply overconfident. Whatever his
reasoning, he made a tragic mistake the moment he chose to set foot
outside his house that hot summer morning. Tracking him by scent and
spoor, I followed him as he bought breakfast from a street vendor and
strolled away. Sensing that the moment was now, I leapt out on him
from the bushes and tackled him to the ground. We rolled through some
plastic netting and down an embankment onto the dry earth of a
construction site.<br />
<br />
“I have come for you, David Draiman!” I
roared, though the last three words were somewhat muffled as he
thrust into my face the breakfast bagel that he was still clutching
desperately, not yet ready to abandon sustenance in the presence of a
fierce rival. It's entirely possible that he intended to consume it
for a mid-fight energy boost, though this half-formed plan was left
in tatters as his blind panic forced the dense bread and cheesy egg
treat into my mouth.<br />
<br />
I bit down hard on his fingers, causing a
shrill “OOH AH AH AH AH!” to erupt from his fear-curled lips. This
was to be the calm before the storm however, for swiftly Draiman
lifted me bodily off the ground with bear-like strength and slammed
me into the dirt. We rolled apart, got to our feet and circled each
other with menacing intent. My memory is somewhat clouded with the
pure adrenaline thrill of nu-metal conflict, but I believe I slammed
my fists into my nipples in inarticulate simian rage.</div>
<br />
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The rest is a blur of body hair,
flexing muscles and animal grunting. Suffice to say that four hours
later we were drained and broken, clad only in sweat and the roiling
heat haze. A huge crowd had gathered, screaming and cheering in equal
measure whenever one of us would pitch the other face-first into a
cement mixer or swat our opponent down with a brick hod. Some
observers would tell me later that they experienced a homoerotic
thrill from this incredible scene, despite the fact that Draiman and
I were only partially erect.</div>
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In the end this first titanic conflict
came down to stamina, and years of bellowing onstage had left Draiman
capable of sustaining his savage defence for only so long. We both
knew when the end had come, and after one final belly-to-belly suplex
he stayed on his knees. Eschewing eye contact, Draiman simply nodded
once, silently and stoically. His weird chin-piercing things
glittered under Helios' harsh gaze.<br />
<br />
I returned his nod, and
raised my arms to silence the suddenly ecstatic crowd. Several of
them ran forward to towel me down, and I instructed them to see to my
fallen opponent first as a mark of respect for both his resilience
and his noble acceptance of fate.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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Casting my eyes to the midday sun, I
whispered a single name to the still air. A name that had mocked me
in my weakest moments since the dark hour when I first read that
accursed tweet.<br />
<br />
“Fred Durst. Freeeeeeeed Duuuuuuuurst...”</div>
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Looking back upon it now, that first
soil-caked encounter with David Draiman was where it should all have
ended. A decent victory, a pure victory, with the loser left able to
hold his head up high with pride. A fight lost honestly to an alpha
beast, with a body left battered but intact, is not a cause for
shame.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It is to my detriment that this went
further, and deeper, into abyssal chasms of grave destiny.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Fight #2 – Jacoby Shaddix</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg85A4HUj-eFvt8cOofcKRPnW6mdemFn-DCr5vXOfKT45EyxVpy6LCxHOtRQ6UB3WjrFy_Sex32HuGzEYTFJ4feqK2eFaWCGWptfDCyYhHj6dcY7upK5u4ePZVB0MaRAWIRGQc-JKRq398/s1600/Jacoby_Shaddix_of_Papa_Roach_by_Tattooed08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg85A4HUj-eFvt8cOofcKRPnW6mdemFn-DCr5vXOfKT45EyxVpy6LCxHOtRQ6UB3WjrFy_Sex32HuGzEYTFJ4feqK2eFaWCGWptfDCyYhHj6dcY7upK5u4ePZVB0MaRAWIRGQc-JKRq398/s1600/Jacoby_Shaddix_of_Papa_Roach_by_Tattooed08.jpg" height="320" width="225" /></a>While my immediate desire was to engage
my nemesis Fred Durst in direct open combat, I felt that I had to
grant the pantheon of nameless gods that had invested me with such potence another sacrifice
before I was worthy enough to transform the Limp Bizkit frontman into
a gasping, broken wreck.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The crowd that had gathered to see me
hammer Draiman into exhausted, glistening meat had given me a taste
for spectacle, and I felt the need to ensure this second matchup also
took place in front of a baying mob. My plans were laid down, and
executed flawlessly. There was only bliss and thunder in my mind as I
stepped out from the wings onto the stage of a prominent metal
festival. The vast crowd immediately fell silent. I suspect Shaddix
had felt my presence scant seconds before this ominous omen, and
wheeled on the spot. He nodded once, in grim acceptance, then made an
almost indistinguishable gesture with his free hand.<br />
<br />
At this
signal, his bandmates leapt to the fray. Cowardly perhaps, but also a
sound tactical decision. No doubt he anticipated that I would be
slowed and exhausted so much by the auxiliary Papa Roach onslaught
that I would succumb to his scheming follow-through assault. But it
was all for naught, as I slammed aside the henchmen with ease. A sickening crunch of bones followed, as one by one they all fell to the wayside.
Horton gave me the most trouble, his straight-edge powers infusing
his fists with enough strength to strike home not once but two times on
my weaving frame.<br />
<br />
But in the end Horton was tossed fifty feet
into the crowd, who closed around his weakly struggling form with a
great howl. I am told that hours later, after the area was cleared
with gas, all that remained of him were bones cracked open for the
sweet marrow within. I turned to face Shaddix, who was pale with the
realisation that his gambit had failed. <br />
<br />
In the sudden quiet I
spoke.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Coby Dick, this is your blackest
hour.”<br />
<br />
In a flash, enraged by this use of a defunct
stagename, Shaddix leapt towards me. Borne aloft to the height of
several men on a crest of black lightning, he spat incantations in
the language of forgotten U'lakri, where the first men and women were
doomed by their own damned hubris. As he came for me, one hand was
curled into a frenzied claw to focus his forbidden magics. With the
other he bashed his microphone into the side of his head in mock
angst, just hard enough to appear sincere but not enough to do any
permanent damage.<br />
<br />
It was a feeble last resort. All his bleak
sorcery availed him not. The black lightning broke apart upon my
shining brow, I caught him by his neck in one coiled fist and bore
him to the ground. He passed out then, partially from terror but also
likely from a great deal of internal bleeding.<br />
<br />
The crowd gave
off a single ululating cry and began to copulate wildly in
celebration. They became one single mass of bad eyeliner, baggy jeans
and those chunky multicoloured bracelet things. It was a true horror,
and I fled the scene as soon as I stopped quivering in glory.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Fight #3 – Fred Durst</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXV-IWjX83uhjfb1CLcmnzmZnTdF2FxoTcguLKCgngIM5qf8gc7_gkZZfwdn0EL3Ei8GDHNY3UCRJFlerwe8lT5f_2KAa7TcZN83WKeeo7gf4VPnPtnh0Z2IBAJo8obG9VBmj81UP_e4/s1600/freddurst3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXV-IWjX83uhjfb1CLcmnzmZnTdF2FxoTcguLKCgngIM5qf8gc7_gkZZfwdn0EL3Ei8GDHNY3UCRJFlerwe8lT5f_2KAa7TcZN83WKeeo7gf4VPnPtnh0Z2IBAJo8obG9VBmj81UP_e4/s1600/freddurst3.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a>The time had come. Energised by the
defeat of the ghastly being that had come to dwell in the form of
Coby Dick, I decided to face Fred Durst. For days I stalked his
friends and family, to no avail. Clearly, he had decided that he
would choose the time and place of our forthcoming battle. With this
realisation, I waited. Hours later a messenger arrived, clad in the
red cap and slack jaw of one of Durst's disciples. He held in his
malformed hands an elegantly embossed card, upon which was printed an
address and a single sentence.<br />
<br />
“Come if you dare, y'all.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I dared. Dear reader, I dared too
much.<br />
Arriving at the address within the hour, I beheld a
seemingly innocent office building. Knowing that there must be more
to this everyday scene, I entered through invitingly askew glass
doors that swung gently in the breeze. But I had underestimated the
resourcefulness of my opponent! With a crash trapdoors opened beneath
me, spilling me into a metal chute through which I plunged into his
subterranean lair.<br />
<br />
Of the perils there I will not speak, but
suffice to say that there were ingenious traps and hungry beasts
aplenty. I suspect I will permanently bear the surface burns earned
by carelessly leaping through a web of contracting laser
defences, though the sharkbite on my upper thigh is fading day by
day.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Finally I stood on a high metal
platform, facing Durst on his throne of irradiated steel and ragged
photos of famous girls he has claimed to have fucked online. Cracking
my knuckles, I told him that his diversions had failed him. <br />
<br />
“It
don't matter, son. Ya gotta have faith.” he cackled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And with that, it began. We stood but a
foot apart, trading identical blows. The cold green glare of his
tactical weapon displays shone on our strangely calm faces as each
strike hit home. Later, in the eerie silence that follows battle, I
would examine these and discover that he was mere days away from a
devastating biological assault on the United Nations.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In the end, a moment of distraction was
all it took. I had realised that we were an even match, and I would
need some kind of psychological edge. I planted one final gargantuan
punch to his sternum, before choosing the words that would bring me
the victory I sought. <br />
<br />
“You're a shit rapper, mate. Well
shit. WELL shit.”<br />
<br />
He hesitated for a second, appalled at the
sudden clarity this truth afforded him. In that moment I grasped him
and lofted him high above my head, before bringing him down and
shattering his spine on my knee. He dropped to the floor, broken. I
had won, but even then, in my majesty, shadows began to eat at my
soul.<br />
<br />
I had destroyed not only his pride, but his body. Was
this what I truly wanted? Grimly, I went forth to end this. On a
scrap of paper in my pocket, names had been scrawled hastily in
crayon and then smudged out with my own ecstatic juices. Only one
remained.<br />
<br />
Chester Bennington.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As I sit in my study, only regret sits
inside my heart now. These final words will be as an epitaph for me,
even though I'm actually still alive and fine and quite looking
forward to the Game Of Thrones season finale tomorrow.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Fight #4 – Chester Bennington</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFL2OcOVSVhsnoo_hjSdZalzA5StgX0w-v8JJxPbV-emvfyd8jJpCUVgOkau-jz33e0xvDh3X5i3rCtnfOKUoINQWEb14JhY7RRImUp1i4fYCDYILdGtWjdbE79pVBIJYQxllB3YFbrBQ/s1600/Chester_Bennington_Tattoos_89662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFL2OcOVSVhsnoo_hjSdZalzA5StgX0w-v8JJxPbV-emvfyd8jJpCUVgOkau-jz33e0xvDh3X5i3rCtnfOKUoINQWEb14JhY7RRImUp1i4fYCDYILdGtWjdbE79pVBIJYQxllB3YFbrBQ/s1600/Chester_Bennington_Tattoos_89662.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a>Chester had known I was coming since
all this began. But with no will to resist, he simply awaited the
inevitable. No preparations had been made, no allies sought and no
deceptions prepared.<br />
<br />
I found him alone on a wild windswept
cliff, looking out to sea under an azure sky dotted with clouds. I
stood beside him for some time. Eventually he murmured “Beautiful...
so beautiful.” under his breath, then walked a few paces away from
me. He mustered as competent a martial arts pose as he could, and
waited for me to initiate our conflict.<br />
<br />
It was clear within
but a few exchanges of fist, foot and elbow that he stood little
chance of resisting. But he had an innocent resolve that I now find
far more honourable and princely than any of my actions through this
sordid campaign. Moments later I stood over him, holding his fragile
form up by the hem of his bloodstained wifebeater vest. He gazed at
me then with terrible understanding.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I tried so hard...” he began to
speak, with the voice of a doomed angel. What the rest of those words
were, we will never know. For I was overcome with a dogged bloodlust
that had sunk its roots deep into my pounding heart. I closed one
fist tight and with a single blow, struck into his babylike face and
through the back of his head.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There, stood on the edge over the
swirling waves, with seagulls crying out for my vanquished foe and
his brain matter dripping softly from my knuckles, I was struck by
two thoughts.<br />
<br />
Firstly, that I had irretrievably wounded my
immortal soul.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And secondly, that perhaps my Patreon
campaign had gone a bit too far.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I let Chester Bennington drop from my
grasp, over the edge of the cliff. I have visited there since in
quiet contemplation, and on the very spot where those last moments
played out there now grows a patch of white flowers previously
unknown to sage or scientist. I will leave you to draw your own
conclusions on this fortean occurrence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Unsure of what was to follow, I turned,
expecting only the birds and the silently judgemental spirits of the
water and sky. But instead a figure stood upon a nearby hill, clad in
dark robes and patiently waiting for me. One final opponent had
sought me out. I had not come to the end of my fall yet.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Fight
#5 – Chino Moreno</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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A single katana was impaled in a large
boulder ten feet from Chino. He drew back the silken hood of his robe
and indicated towards it with a tilt of his jaw. It was one of those
times where he's lost loads of weight, so there was no wobble.
<br />
<br />
Inflamed at the audacity of one who would seek me out, I drew
the sword from the granite. It emerged with a rasping groan, and my
enigmatic opponent pulled an identical blade from the folds of his
robe. We stood in a guard position, as thunderclouds rolled in
overhead and rain began to pour from above like the veiled tears of
mighty Apollo.
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
We remained there for several days,
locked in a mutually evaluating stare so blinding that it seemed that
we smote the air between us in twain.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Then we both struck. <br />
<br />
We dashed
towards each other, twisting our bodies and swinging our blades. We
reached ten feet apart again and turned in the crashing downpour. I
glanced down to see the trace of a shallow cut along my flank, then looked
up to see Chino fall to the ground, practically severed in half.
<br />
<br />
Driven by an impulse I did not yet understand, I ran to him.
I held him in my arms as he passed far away, knowing too late that he
had come to teach me a lesson. I clutched his cooling body to mine
and wailed impotently.<br />
<br />
“But the Deftones are fucking
quality! They started out as really good nu-metal and now they're
something else that doesn't really fit in any genre but are always
consistently innovative and excellent! Noooooooo!
CCHHHHHHHHIIIIINOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”<br />
<br />
And with that, it was all
over.<br />
<br />
There is nothing more to tell. <br />
<br />
I hope that
reading this has proved instructional for you, since as a legacy all
I can now dream of is that others will heed my warnings to never
imperil all that they are by entering into a musical genre-<span style="text-align: center;">specific
crowdfunded vendetta of bloody combat.</span></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-27150212438692473872014-01-28T16:19:00.003+00:002014-01-28T16:30:19.288+00:00Therapy? - A Rough Guide<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzivM_nBEZjru5x070oQAecE52ICSOUhINXiC7GGm8DwJ8i_kgkClce43Q3yesPfnEcZLAxBc6WtDl3wDExtOv6t6BwV9VRbX0szyU15BaonnvmgUTOIx7LUTC8Q1OWhyeEeTp055uKIA/s1600/therapy,-band-OCFA-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzivM_nBEZjru5x070oQAecE52ICSOUhINXiC7GGm8DwJ8i_kgkClce43Q3yesPfnEcZLAxBc6WtDl3wDExtOv6t6BwV9VRbX0szyU15BaonnvmgUTOIx7LUTC8Q1OWhyeEeTp055uKIA/s1600/therapy,-band-OCFA-2.jpg" height="188" width="320" /></a>If you didn't go through your teenage years in the early-to-mid 1990s you probably don't know who Therapy? are, and that's a real shame. Let's just take a moment to reflect on how remiss you have been getting through life so far without them.<br />
<br />
Here's a belt. Feel free to flagellate yourself thoroughly.<br />
<br />
All done? Lovely. Now while you're mopping the blood off the walls, have a listen to the following tunes.<br />
<br />
Therapy? started as a threepiece in Belfast at the sodden arse-end of the 1980s, fuelled by industrial punk nightmares and feverish European electronic sensibilities. Their first two mini-albums, 1991's "Babyteeth" and 1992's "Pleasure Death" are obviously influenced by the likes of Big Black and The Jesus Lizard - but they manage to be somehow denser and more claustrophobic, melodic punk whistled through a serial killer's broken front teeth. Andy Cairns' vocals are a death threat overheard on a busy street, while Michael McKeegan's pulsating bass underpins everything else like a twisted disco beat.<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'Innocent X' - 1991 - from "Babyteeth"</b><br />
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<br />
<br />
Their first full album followed soon after, and loosens up the metronome drum patterns ever so slightly, letting the songs breathe out in the open. Raw buzzsaw guitars and distant wailing vocals are still the formula, but the end result is ever so slightly more friendly. But the unhinged dementia is still waiting in the wings, a squealing mental breakdown all the more terrifying for being hidden in the open.<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'Teethgrinder' - 1992 - from "Nurse"</b><br />
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<br />
And then everything changed. A series of EPs and singles were followed in 1994 by "Troublegum", which might just be the greatest pop-punk record ever recorded. Packed to the gills with melody, soaring choruses and infectious riffs, all of the torment and nihilism here were embedded firmly in the lyrics rather than edging their way clear into torturous music. At its heart, it isn't any lighter an LP than Therapy?'s early work. It's just better at covering the scars with brightly coloured balloons and manic smiles. Modest chart success followed for the likes of 'Screamager', 'Nowhere' and 'Die Laughing', and some high profile festival slots and tours put the word around that the band were maybe going to make it bigger than one could have expected from an oddball industro-punk squall from Northern Ireland.<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'Screamager' - 1994 - from "Troublegum"</b><br />
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<br />
<br />
So they changed everything, pretty much. Why not? Stagnation is a killer. The very next year "Infernal Love" hit the shelves, and while many of their newly acquired fanbase were put off by a record that slotted in an uncomfortable art-rock wet dream for every summer-bright pop tune, it is a record that stands firmly as their second best work. With the benefit of hindsight from the salty shores of 2014, it's a classic. But back then, the fickle UK music press and even more fickle alternative rock fans met it with a lukewarm response at best. But it's the sound of a band maturing and undergoing massive nihilistic trauma at the same time, and who doesn't want that in their life?<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'A Moment Of Clarity' - 1995 - from "Infernal Love"</b><br />
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<br />
<br />
Changes followed, as they often do in the midst of turbulence. Founding drummer Fyfe Ewing departed the band, taking his staccato rhythms with him. As well as replacing him with Graham Hopkins, they also incorporated Martin McCarrick on cello and guitar. A fourpiece for the first time, this more traditional rock band lineup resulted in a more traditional punk rock sound. 1998's "Semi-Detached" was to lay down a blueprint for the many variations in their sound that have followed since, as a raw garage vibe was laid across most of the tracks. Less pop, more punk.<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'Church Of Noise' - 1998 - from "Semi-Detached"</b><br />
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<br />
<br />
This raw punk aesthetic was pumped up even further for 1999's "Suicide Pact - You First", which was a fuzzy battleground of growling cynicism sprinkled with the occasional melancholy escape hatch - such as the superb 'Six Mile Water', which is solid proof that they should write an alt. country record at some point. The LP also seemed to mark a turning point in Therapy?'s career, which shifted inexorably towards a lack of interest from the press and survival primarily through a ferociously loyal (though smaller) fanbase. That's the story for the UK, in any case. I suspect they still make new sales in Europe, where folk seem less concerned about what haircut a lead singer has.<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'Six Mile Water' - 1999 - from "Suicide Pact - You First"</b><br />
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<br />
<br />
2001 saw Therapy? record what I consider to be their only stinker of an album to date, the ironically titled "Shameless". All the deities created by mankind love you if you can hack it, but a couple of singles aside I find it thoroughly underwhelming. So moving swiftly on. 2003's "High Anxiety" was a return to form of sorts. Not a groundbreaking work by any means, but definitely carrying on the legacy established by "Semi-Detached" in its packaging of punk rock tempered by the band's ongoing talent for a soaring chorus hook. Neil Cooper also arrived on drums, and has marked his place in the band with a penchant for a rolling punk rock percussive assault that suits their later material well.<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'If It Kills Me' - 2003 - from "High Anxiety"</b><br />
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<br />
<br />
Martin McCarrick departed soon after, which is a shame for him since the last great Therapy? record to date, "Never Apologise Never Explain" followed in 2004 and came as quite a surprise to most of their fans. A scuzzy hyperactive bullet-train of rumbling intensity, it is packed end-to-end with the sound of a rock band creating the rockiest rock they can rock. ROCK.<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'Die Like A Motherfucker' - 2004 - from "Never Apologise Never Explain"</b><br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I've always got the sense that Therapy? are uncomfortable following up an album with one that carries the same sensibilities as the last. I don't have a problem with that whatsoever, but it does make it really difficult to predict what direction on their ever-flailing trajectory the next recording will take. "One Cure Fits All" hit in 2006, and was in a sense the final entry in the melody/fuzz fusion trilogy that began with "Semi-Detached" and "High Anxiety". Said trilogy got patchier as time went by, but it still had some quality tunes on it.<br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'Dopamine, Serotonin, Adrenaline' - 2006 - from "One Cure Fits All"</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Crooked Timber" followed in 2009, and was a slightly directionless mess of rock tunes that tried to pitch in every adjective I have previously used to describe their music. As a mish-mash of everything with songwriting that is below par for veterans of this caliber, it's not a must-have despite a couple of cracking songs in the middle. Their most recent LP is 2012's "A Brief Crack Of Light", and it comes across like a version of "Crooked Timber" that had a hell of a lot more work put into it. Or maybe a lot less, resulting in greater immediacy. Either way, the tunes are more tunely and the punch is more punchtastic. And it also proved that despite having been going all these years, they can still put out a killer single in the form of 'Living In The Shadow Of The Terrible Thing'. <br />
<br />
<b>Therapy? - 'Living In The Shadow Of The Terrible Thing' - 2012 - from "A Brief Crack Of Light"</b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Listen To A Whole Load Of Therapy? On Spotify <a href="http://open.spotify.com/artist/3MomZRiJwdZmYnysgtF4Ey" target="_blank">HERE</a>.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Essential Records:</i> Babyteeth, Troublegum, Infernal Love, Never Apologise Never Explain</b></div>
</div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-66620269441954945832014-01-27T14:29:00.002+00:002014-01-29T10:22:23.975+00:00The Overlooked - 10 Damn Fine Rock & Metal Bands That You Should Have Listened ToAnother year, another sporadic ATCB update where I proselytise about music. Today I'll be rounding up some excellent rock and metal acts who you probably missed the first time around. All of them are either defunct or active post-resurrection, all of them are awesome and all of them prove that I have better taste than you.<br />
<br />
Let's crack on. In no especial order.<br />
<br />
<b>Liberty 37 - 'Oh River' - from "The Greatest Gift" - 1999</b><br />
<br />
Straight-up rock with grunge elements and a soaring vocal delivery, Liberty 37 were one of the seemingly hundreds of bands swarming the UK live rock scene in the late 1990s. I suspect they would probably still be going if they had been American.<br />
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<br />
<b>Cyclefly - 'Supergod' - from "Generation Sap" - 1999</b><br />
<br />
Irish/European sparkling glam punk-ish rock. Mix Placebo with vinyl catsuits and a heightened sense of violent aggression, season to taste. I can guarantee that this will be the only band I ever list on the site who collaborated with Linkin Park's Chester Bennington, unless the new Godflesh album has some REAL surprises on it.<br />
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<b>Onedice - 'Know Your Role' - from "Life" - 2001</b></div>
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Thrash-tinged metal assault, with both ferocity and precision in the delivery. My overriding memory of these guys is slamdancing in a large tent at a small Exeter festival while a French man punched me repeatedly in the kidneys. My girlfriend at the time told me not to say anything or he'd beat me up. Those were supportive times.</div>
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<b>The God Machine - 'Painless' - from "One Last Laugh In A Place Of Dying" - 1994</b></div>
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Like Swans colliding with Alice In Chains in a darkened underpass, The God Machine's two albums may be the most profoundly depressing and oddly uplifting music I have ever heard. Oh yeah, descriptive contradictions baby. That's how you know I am an amazing music hack.</div>
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<b>Engerica - 'Roadkill' - from "There Are No Happy Endings" - 2006</b></div>
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Demented threepiece punk rock with the melodic nous of Therapy? and the acid-etched lyrical bite of Steve Albini. This tune is even straightforward enough on the surface that it could appeal to the teenage emo crowd. And chart. As long as they didn't pay too much attention. </div>
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<b>Will Haven - 'I've Seen My Fate' - from "El Diablo" - 1997</b><br />
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Reverse metal riffs chugging at you from the ultradense heart of a neutron star, while the vocals howl in your forebrain. Part of the Sacramento scene that also birthed Far and Deftones, and it shows. Will Haven are undoubtedly both the heaviest and least immediately successful of the three, though they have proven to be highly influential - which is the same thing, only without any money or groupies.<br />
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<b>Aereogramme - 'Indiscretion #243' - from "Sleep And Release" - 2003</b><br />
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Genre-wise Aereogramme laughed and spat in your face playfully, with elements of post-rock, indie, folk and metal jostling around for attention. No song was the same as another, nor one album akin to its predecessor. Follow-on acts include similarly excellent The Unwinding Hours and indie/electro sweethearts <i>du jour</i> CHVRCHES.<br />
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<b>I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness - 'According To Plan' - from "Fear Is On Our Side" - 2006</b><br />
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A lot of bands swarmed around the feet of the pseudo-post-punk renaissance in the middle of the last decade, but these guys did it bloody well. If you absolutely need a comparison, think Interpol but swathed under layers of atmosphere and therefore better.<br />
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<b>Psycore - 'Medication' - from "Your Problem" - 1998</b><br />
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The more cerebrally satisfying of metal acts have traditionally not been the best-selling, Tool aside. Here's just one example from Swedish mentalists Psycore, who were like Helmet playing a jazz club where everyone just fucks and eats each other instead of applauding.<br />
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<b>earthtone9 - 'Tat Twam Asi' - from "Arc'Tan'Gent" - 2000</b><br />
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Hey, speaking of cerebrally satisfying metal. These guys are back in action these days and are still a formidable live prospect. Back in the day their tribal intellectual roar was without peer, and they have produced some of the finest metal albums ever made.<br />
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This will undoubtedly become an ongoing series, by which I mean I'll knock out another one then get bored with the concept of exhaust my stock of bands. JOIN ME FOR THAT GLORIOUS MOMENT.ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-61311696581412905252013-09-10T17:35:00.000+01:002014-01-29T10:23:35.808+00:00Game Review: The Bureau - XCOM Declassified<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Format Played: PC</b></div>
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The Bureau was hard-wired
from the start to receive a difficult reception among critics and
gamers. </div>
Nervously sheltering under the XCOM franchise umbrella, it
came across as a desperate turnaround from the first-person
investigative shooter initially touted to the raging screams of a
million neckbeard fanboys. More independent observers such as myself
though that original vision looked like an interesting, creepy blend
of The X-Files and L.A. Noire, but instead we have been delivered a
more tactical third-person cover-based effort with some very light
RPG elements slathered on top.<br />
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A good decision to have made? A big old "Nah" with some caveats.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFvo54m15aR9Av5eh0BeaSn4wE5D0tB_T66ic9lbUCp6lpNYccrCR2ZZ7fXSFwNdaM7jc5oxuyuXZyFOBofGSDeahmGrNGqNEXjnfKJxHYKhvFRVAn_xlkUGOfDTVqAOJEwZZmxWtdLQ/s1600/2KG_TheBureauXD_SquadTactics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFvo54m15aR9Av5eh0BeaSn4wE5D0tB_T66ic9lbUCp6lpNYccrCR2ZZ7fXSFwNdaM7jc5oxuyuXZyFOBofGSDeahmGrNGqNEXjnfKJxHYKhvFRVAn_xlkUGOfDTVqAOJEwZZmxWtdLQ/s400/2KG_TheBureauXD_SquadTactics.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a>With the re-emergence of XCOM as king
of the turn-based strategy planet, a more immediate game in the XCOM
universe seemed less of a sacrilege-fest for fans. But The Bureau ends up
straddling so many fences that it forms a far less than coherent
whole. Its setting is the ace in the hole in many ways, as 1950s
small-town America is cracked open by towering (if generic) alien
architecture and strewn with high school-jacketed corpses and
infected humans. If there isn’t a body hidden somewhere who has
been designed to look like The Fonz, the developers have missed a
trick. Graphically it impresses as well, lush and complex
environments unfolding ahead of you with nary a glitch to be seen aside from a somewhat odd framerate hit that some PC users (including myself) have reported.</div>
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The gameplay is split between combat
missions and the central hub – in the former, you roll forward into
setpiece arena after setpiece arena, splatting aliens with a range of
satisfying powers and weapons. Time can be slowed significantly while
you pass out orders to the two agents accompanying you, which allows
for tactical decisions while remaining under the hammer to a certain
degree. It’s a fine balance which the game just about achieves –
and when it all comes together, it can feel very satisfying to pop
your agents into flanking positions, slamming down turrets and
airstrikes as you do so. A hefty flaw is that the targeting reticule
for positioning or powers cannot move through cover – a bizarre
decision that wastes your time by navigating the inevitable
chest-high walls just to tell your agents to do the same. Enemy AI is
fairly competent and will ruthlessly flank you if given half a chance, though the same
compliment cannot be paid to your team members who have a tendency to
try to incubate grenades flung at them by sitting on them and
producing a less-than-pleasing explosion baby.
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Unfortunately by the end of the game
the satisfaction in combat has dulled through repetition, with no new
alien types showing their faces after about one-third of the way
through. Given the variation available from both the older games and
the reboot, it’s a shame only 4 or so different aliens actually
make an appearance. It’s justified in the backstory somewhat, but
you get the impression throughout that said backstory has been
constructed to limit the amount of work needed rather than to fit any
kind of overall writing decision. Perhaps even more unforgivable is
the amount of time you spend running onwards between encounters –
some worldbuilding is attempted in these sections with dialogue and scenes of devastation, but more often than not you
are just running through empty corridors or woodland clearings. Not
since Space Marine has one game made you rack up the cardio so much
for no obvious reason beyond padding.</div>
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Agents themselves have some levelling
up within very limited skill trees, with a paltry 5 levels handed out
to them while your protagonist rent-a-gruff William Carter has 10.
There’s not a tremendous amount of variation on show and they're mostly standard powers veteran gamers will have experienced a thousand times before, with the likes of criticals, healing, aggro buffs all showing their faces. All four agent classes are fairly distinctive and have some use on the battlefield, though I found my
favourite two fairly early on and stuck with them throughout. Much
has been made of the agent permadeath in an effort to evoke the main
franchise, though it’s hardly much of an imposition on anything but
the hardest setting.</div>
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Which leaves us with the
between-mission central hub area. Oh, the dull horrors of this. The
hours spent strolling (since running is turned off inside your base)
around corridors to have a boring conversation with a non-character
in order that they can send me to talk to someone else. Or,
occasionally, on a mini-mission that will likely involve strolling
down further corridors to find something of little-to-no interest.
For a completionist like me, it’s torture. For more normal human
beings, you will escape some of this but are still railroaded through
enough monotonous chats where Carter animatedly pounds his fist into
an open palm so often that he seems to be punishing it for horribly
onanistic crimes committed during his sleeping hours.</div>
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In short: these bits are awful tepid
shite, and they should in no way have made it through to the finished
game. It’s not often you’ll read a gaming writer clamour for
cutscenes, even an amateurish one like myself, but all of this could
be achieved with two minutes of inter-mission exposition. Said
exposition would be drab however it is presented, since the story is
largely not even worth mentioning. Aliens, protagonist with a haunted
past, fighting back, this is our independence day, blah blah blah.</div>
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In fact, I get the feeling that the hub was
inserted intentionally to break up the repetition of the combat. If
this was the case, then they succeeded only in wedging deeper
monotony into the middle of some light monotony. ‘Grats.</div>
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So what are we left with? Chunky combat
that slowly exposes a lack of depth throughout the length of the game
and interminable inter-mission sections. It looks pretty, it has a
unique setting and towards the end manages to have a bit of narrative
fun with the concept of third-person control within gaming. But none
of that is ultimately enough to recommend a purchase above
bargain-price. There are the bare bones of a decent game here, but
the whole experience comes across as a polished rushjob. </div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-15696860528657746282013-08-31T13:11:00.002+01:002014-01-29T10:29:50.026+00:00Gig Review: Infest 2013<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I just checked, and it has been 3 years
since I last attended Infest. That is moderately appalling,
considering it is my favourite UK electronic festival. Still, I went
this year and now you get to read all about it. You are truly
blessed.</div>
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I headed down to Bradford in good
spirits if not rude health, almost perishing of dehydration on a
train that was running the heating in the middle of one of the
warmest British summers on record. I realise to any overseas readers
that seems like borderline Arctic conditions, but you must remember
that my genetics have gifted me with the equivalent of several
walrus-hide overcoats in terms of body hair. Ladies.</div>
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Currently Infest retains the same
layout as on its return to the revised Bradford Union venue a few
years past, and while it maintains the same issues – stairs leading
down to the front rows of the audience, a somewhat rambling
multi-room layout – at this point I am detached enough from my
nostalgic love of the old layout that I am beyond grumbling.
Additionally it seems somewhat gauche to do so, since every other
aspect of the festival is managed superbly. Copious bar and
(non-intrusive) security staff, excellent timekeeping and a joyous
compère in the form of Mr Tails all lead to a warm atmosphere quite
unlike any other festival I have been to.
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The Friday was launched in style by
<b>Metal Tech</b>, a self-confessed 'kissdustrial' act who take on a '90s
industrial rock sound before slathering it sexually in glam stomp and
silly. They came, they threw out glowsticks and party poppers and
they conquered. There are some serious musical chops going on with
the construction of tunes, though the beats backing them could do
with a bit of sophisticating. But maybe they don't want to. Maybe
they just want to put on makeup and masks and make bitter muso twats
like me grin, just a little bit, despite ourselves. Metal Tech closed
with a German language number called 'Hammstein' that, if my Deutsch
is standing up from GCSE, contained the chorus line “My little
dancing pig”. That's worth the price of entry alone.</div>
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Long-running UK act <b>Inertia</b> followed. I
have seen these guys a few times over the years and each time they
strike me as almost getting close to attaining their own identity
beyond borrowed beats and synths. This is the best I've seen them,
but I still can't in all honesty recommend them. These days they come
across as a bronze medal-winning Mesh, which could be fine if you
don't have anywhere else to go. But before they are inevitably
claimed by their eponymous emotional gravity well, it'd be nice to
hear what just being Inertia sounds like.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RW2rSrWug3Pp1qBdYhKDYa7xLkjIZwidZDpPaNeHK4QPyeac8xLCVyzG_rqfhDW-PLRH7QEfs3YHfD_6r6WZUP09vXpSj-Gt6WCUt3AR6rQiaAcXUsZu9wZwQNKdqTyQ0l2oRcn-EUA/s1600/dirk_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RW2rSrWug3Pp1qBdYhKDYa7xLkjIZwidZDpPaNeHK4QPyeac8xLCVyzG_rqfhDW-PLRH7QEfs3YHfD_6r6WZUP09vXpSj-Gt6WCUt3AR6rQiaAcXUsZu9wZwQNKdqTyQ0l2oRcn-EUA/s320/dirk_1.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dive</td></tr>
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Next up was <b>Dive</b>, solo project of Dirk
Ivens – and this blew me away. One man, contorting on stage to a
minimalist old school industrial/EBM fusion with noise elements. That
sounds like a total grab-bag, but in practice it slots together so
perfectly. The performance being centred entirely around vocals –
all music was 'on tape', as they'd say back in the day – lent it a
slightly surreal performance art vibe as Ivens beat his chest and
addressed the audience via microphone and loudhailer. Constant slow
white strobe accompanied the claustrophobic beats, flickering
independent of the rhythm and helping to build what was undoubtedly
an intense but approachable performance. Excellent musical
construction, exquisite delivery.</div>
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Friday's headliners were <b>Pride &
Fall</b>, a band whose futurepop/darkwave crossover material has never
particularly grabbed me. This night was no exception. They seem to be
trying for a melancholy poetry with their material, but for me every
single stanza rhymes with 'boring'. It comes across as overwrought
and self-indulgent, which is perhaps a criticism-by-numbers for a
band who arguably fit under the incredibly broad umbrella of goth.
But they just leave me rolling my eyes, despite an obviously
professional live presence and an enthusiastic reception. More power
to you if you still have the teenage flights of fancy to appreciate
this stuff.</div>
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Two things were hammered into place by
the first day of this year's Infest – firstly, this may have been
the best sound I have ever heard at a festival. Aided by a superb
sound setup, most of the weekend's bands (with one exception, noted
below) were crystal clear from the front of the stage to the back of
the crowd. Kudos to the engineers. Get out there are work every other
festival I attend, please. Secondly, the second real strength of this
festival year on year (after atmosphere) is the variety. Other
alternative electronic festivals haul a bit of pick and mix on stage,
but typically there is still an overriding sense of whatever is
fashionable that year. Not so Infest. If you don't dig a particular
sound, there will undoubtedly be something very different along in a
minute.</div>
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And just to illustrate this, Saturday
began with Manchester's <b>AAAK</b> – As Able As Kane if you like your
capital letters spread out a bit – who come across as an energetic,
defiant blend of old-school industrial and grebo. It's always a
thrill to hear live guitars and drums as festivals such as these, and
this year we were spoiled for them. A political kick wrapped in
proto-Madchester punk sneer, AAAK 'ably' prove they 'kane' hold their
own in good company. Punnage, motherfuckers. This is what life has
driven me to.
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<b>Wieloryb</b> are this year's contingent
from veteran art noise label Forms Of Hands, and they play a blinding
set of techno-tinged noise soundscapes, leveraged by a dynamic and
infectious songcraft that pushes through the somewhat willfully
difficult barrier many of their peers lurk behind. The end result is
a dynamic, infectious and danceable set that stood out as powerfully
unique to ears that are too often bored by the 4/4 crunchy beats of
live noise acts. A melodic underpinning was provided on many tracks
by what hacks like me tend to summarise as 'Eastern' vocal samples,
which is about as effective a description as one would get
describing every singer west of the Prime Meridian as 'Western'
vocals. Still, you know what I mean, don't you? Yeah, you do. We're
all going to hell. Except for Wieloryb, who are awesome. A
mixed-gender duo also highlight something that struck me as extremely
positive from this year's festival – a much higher number of women
on stage who aren't there simply to dance or look pretty in uniform.
This is a good thing, and laughably overdue. It's not a historical
problem with Infest specifically, but one with the scene – and hey,
the music industry as a whole – that can only have passed you by if
you are either utterly ignorant of these things or an MRA asshole. If
you are an MRA asshole, stop reading and pollute some other site. We
don't like your kind round these parts.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chrysalide</td></tr>
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Next up are French trio <b>Chrysalide</b>, who
stride onstage blackened and raw to deliver a festival-topping set of
early '90s industrial power tempered in a crucible of 21<sup>st</sup>
century sounds and howling screams. Many comparisons have been made
to Skinny Puppy, and while that is entirely accurate it struck me
when watching how much these guys also sound like a gnarly, pissed
off version of ohGr's solo work as well. Making comparisons seems
somehow to undermine what Chrysalide do, since the shrieking violence
of their performance comes as a breath of fresh air even over a
weekend with as many quality acts as this one. It's all sweat,
contortion and closed-eye bellowing over a bedrock of beats and
synths forced open wide with a bloody, rusted ribcage spreader. If
you can stand another band comparison, they come across as Mindless
Self-Indulgence only created for rabid adults instead of
attention-deficit-afflicted toddlers. Vital. Get yourselves on the
bandwagon before it builds up full speed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Typically after a set that explosive,
the following act would struggle to build up a head of steam. But for
new wave veterans <b>Click Click</b>, it's a chance to infect the entire
venue with their slithering, creepy melodies that sneak softly inside
your skull and perform unspeakably horrible, but consensual, sexual
acts with your psyche. Frontman Adrian Smith - a withered Lex Luthor
in Lennon glasses whispering secret things to the rodents under your
bed – occasionally brings out random instruments to play into the
microphone before tossing them over his shoulder with disdain, while
his brother Derek pounds drums with stone-faced glee at the back of
the stage. It's powerful and disturbing and oddly majestic. It has
inspired me to raid their back catalogue thoroughly, and I would be
surprised if many others watching were not doing the same even now.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0DlMdFZTaCMqL8sB0gPyaok2zduxdYOKnCGyNZ-nWOWs2wTSVJel1V3BpSmhjQ49HcD5A9KdOqCOX0UaKyx0Tn5RtQGbppAmtmyKCf1RnbBSCVS0tIEY5ZNIto1mc5Hh16jeGOmnxHQ/s1600/click_click.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0DlMdFZTaCMqL8sB0gPyaok2zduxdYOKnCGyNZ-nWOWs2wTSVJel1V3BpSmhjQ49HcD5A9KdOqCOX0UaKyx0Tn5RtQGbppAmtmyKCf1RnbBSCVS0tIEY5ZNIto1mc5Hh16jeGOmnxHQ/s320/click_click.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click Click</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Controversial opinion for pretty much
everyone else at Infest 2013: I didn't enjoy <b>Da Octopusss</b> much.
European hard dance with pseudo-dubstep bits performed by two guys in
gimmicky Cthulhu masks, their recorded material struck me as
interesting enough with a degree of horror creep to it that at least
somewhat justified the Lovecraft angle. But live... well, with a sonic/visual experiment that will blow your tiny minds, let me
attempt to replicate the set for you.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">BASS BASS BASS BASS BASS </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
BASS BASS BASS
BASS BASS </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">BASS BASS BASS BASS BASS</span> </b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">BASS BASS BASS</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> BASS BASS </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
BASS BASS
BASS BASS BASS </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>BASS BASS BASS BASS BASS</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>BASS BASS BASS</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Seriously, have a bit of
non-telegraphed dynamism. Was your father betrayed and murdered by
treble? Have you sworn revenge? Are you even now polishing a dagger
in a run-down Eastern European hostel room, weeping as you anticipate
the joy of plunging it directly into the stomach of the cymbal
unwittingly waiting for your violent attentions in a backalley
absinthe bar populated by human traffickers and government
informants?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Probably not, is the answer.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But of course everyone except me and a
few others are left ejaculating with joy on the dancefloor. It's my
own fault. I can't just like things for being things. I need some
kind of existential reasoning. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Fuck it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Saturday's headliners were<b> Imperative
Reaction</b>, a band I am most enthusiastic about on record. They peddle
a distinctive brand of driving electronica that comes across to my
ears as almost identical to '90s American industrial rock acts –
the likes of Gravity Kills and the criminally forgotten Machines Of
Loving Grace – only sacrificing traditional rock instrumentation
for pulsating beats and synths. However, live they chose to represent
their sound with limited synthwork and vocals backed by guitars and
drums. This was, to my ears, an absolutely critical error. By
translating your work into another genre framework, you really risk
exposing the weaknesses of your songwriting within said framework.
Imperative Reaction write great heart-pounding electronic anthems.
They do not write great rock songs with added synth. It also
highlighted that as a live rock act, they simply do not cut it. I'm
sorry – and many rivetheads and cyberwhatevers might be left
frothing in fury at this – but the standards are simply higher for
live performance. Them's the breaks. <br />
<br />
In the end it all
reduced itself to a mushy mess with drums riotously pounded over the
top, like someone a few seats away on the train listening to
anonymous German techno while your earphones are pumping in
metal-lite. The sound itself struggled to maintain it's weekend-long
clarity, and I was left listening to my favourite song by them –
the brainmelting asskicker 'Judas' – and shaking my head at the
unrecognisable mess before walking away. A shame.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll50WouDMzxQATd5VsNEmpdXsjSZ48F6mDowU7s1G7GSLY2nU5_ibe533mHAsgy4djaCYH2Uzjttjw94B7nO6_U35ruO58FnmW3A_wo0I8EPS5z5ESY1DErMYUVGg1Xjn2kg_y4kKuhg/s1600/300x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll50WouDMzxQATd5VsNEmpdXsjSZ48F6mDowU7s1G7GSLY2nU5_ibe533mHAsgy4djaCYH2Uzjttjw94B7nO6_U35ruO58FnmW3A_wo0I8EPS5z5ESY1DErMYUVGg1Xjn2kg_y4kKuhg/s320/300x300.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autoclav1.1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sunday opened with Yorkshire's own
<b>Autoclav1.1</b>, whose live performances I have in the past considered to
be sub-par to the recorded output, with too much emphasis on big
beats and noise elements. OH GOD HERE YOU GO AGAIN, you think. Well,
wrong. Dead wrong. Focusing far more on the strengths of the often
disturbingly melodic and ambient elements of the sound, the
performance was a lesson in the fragmented destruction of
elegantly-weaved industrial soundscapes. Colourful and vivid visuals
only served to augment the dreamlike quality of the music. A lack of
sleep on my part doubtlessly helped provoke this, but Autoclav1.1
annihilated my brain-based cobwebs with aplomb. More of this, please.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Future Trail </b>are next, functional but
comfortable EBM traditionalists who are unafraid to mix their 1998
blueprint with 2013 sounds. Some elements of synthpop breaking
through, but mostly a sound we have heard before and will hear again
performed with workmanlike precision. Nothing spectacular, but
potentially an act to watch in the future if they can find their own
voice a little more.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It wouldn't be a UK alternative
electronic festival without a spot of electro-industrial to make me
swear under my breath and barely tolerate long enough to gather fuel
for the review. And so I bring you <b>XMH</b>, who I suppose don't do
anything wrong with the formula laid down by other acts. It's Suicide
Grendel Tactical Commando Sekt, and they are here to goblinise your
vocals and go UNK UNK UNK SQUEAL UNK UNK RAARGH. I shouldn't complain
too much. They are certainly competent at what they do, and the
frontman is undeniably energetic and providing a focal point for the
crowd to get enthusiastic about. It's just a sound that is so
ubiquitous as to be utterly irrelevant for me. Plus I am getting a
bit sick of men standing on stage and screaming about bitches, sluts
and whores like they're the next Andy LaPlegua. Issues much?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CNU00ToRiYS6fRYYuBdJFMYdqqzQW5jCRva5k5c5BIPCX_RWmdfJFm7RF8eMOAf6IrI7X3U8pulndnSvnEHtyWcYPpopVivhEV1b1q-nsIaOl6pGENFGalP7hP4cKJmB4gyeQI6P5Dw/s1600/80037071284068078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CNU00ToRiYS6fRYYuBdJFMYdqqzQW5jCRva5k5c5BIPCX_RWmdfJFm7RF8eMOAf6IrI7X3U8pulndnSvnEHtyWcYPpopVivhEV1b1q-nsIaOl6pGENFGalP7hP4cKJmB4gyeQI6P5Dw/s1600/80037071284068078.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sono</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Sono</b> are pretty much the opposite of
electro-industrial, as a synthpop act with the emphasis on pop and a
significant investment in huge quantities of melody. They seem pro as
it comes, as well as delighted to be on stage – always a great
combination – and frontman Lennart Salomon spreads his friendly
enthusiasm to all corners of the crowd as they Depeche Mode it up
with the best of them. There's some minimalism and hypnotic
sensibilities at work that are enough to lift the songs up from
merely fun pop tunes, and the end result is a more than solid
addition to the lineup.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Cervello Elettronico</b> are a surprisingly
leftfield choice as the penultimate act of the weekend, and they reel
out a set of refreshingly old-school glitchy techno sounds. While my
bass-based criticisms over the weekend are mainly aimed at Da
Octopusss, it's good to hear a beats-centered act that knows how to
layer its material right up the scale to provide a sparsely lush
experience. Slightly trippy, a bit evocative and ever-so
accomplished.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhfL4JilhfXJ5EMj85xZ5opXXpd-W4GcO5EzCORn6cMO431DbKABhHa7h5_yJccPhCBNUiaEgfaMIPd4b6BTYTvvaWFcMUAGDULq7mmz5B4UAveF79Z5YW-PgorannPuflc2wflPsttg/s1600/Covenant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhfL4JilhfXJ5EMj85xZ5opXXpd-W4GcO5EzCORn6cMO431DbKABhHa7h5_yJccPhCBNUiaEgfaMIPd4b6BTYTvvaWFcMUAGDULq7mmz5B4UAveF79Z5YW-PgorannPuflc2wflPsttg/s320/Covenant.jpg" height="320" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Covenant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And then <b>Covenant</b> rolled on stage to
detonate the venue. With their unique take on a synthpop/futurepop
crossover they are an act that carry elements to appeal to most of
the varied audience, and are one of the few acts who can get away
with performing a festival set remarkably laden with more obscure
tunes – including no less than three from their debut album “Dreams
Of A Cryotank”, which I can comfortably say probably does not sit
in the music collections of many folks in the crowd. I find myself in
the odd position of not having much to say about Covenant. They are
solid gold headliners, and they know it and play accordingly. A
storming 'Call The Ships To Port' comes off the blocks with
astonishing energy and only ramps it up in the now well-established
blood-pounding instrumental kick that follows the chorus. The entire
venue levels up and bursts into life. Light flashes, sound solidifies
and a short time later everyone wipes themselves down and agrees that
yes, that was A Very Good Thing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I achieve approximately zero sleep that
night (for no fascinating or controversial reasons) and rise at dawn
to wend my way home. Somewhere nearby there is a wobbling, grinding
beat of a party still going down. A few seconds later I
realise that it's a broken extractor fan breathing its last.<br />
<br />
And
that's why I love Infest.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<b>Bands Who Receive The Bastard "At Least 50% Of The Set" Live Seal Of Approval: </b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Metal Tech, Dive, AAAK, Wieloryb, Chrysalide, Click Click, Autoclav1.1, Sono, Covenant</div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-14763406048100664512013-08-27T18:53:00.001+01:002014-01-29T10:27:05.933+00:00STANK II<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For anyone who didn't get the drill
from the first entry of these beautifully-titled series – songs
that many of us danced to back in the day* that don't get much
dancefloor play nowadays, because nostalgia.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
On with the show.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
If there is one thing modern music
needs more of, it is gruff men shouting KILL EAT EXPLOIT THE WEAK
along to bouncy industrial metal. Enter Pitchshifter, stage right.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/1XN1ROySRPY" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For me, the first Rival Schools album
has that perfect nostalgic blend of rose-tinted glasses, youth, a
thematic link between sound, time and place, and a gutwrenching level
of self-loathing. Woo!
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/DcRt7kkzcxM" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds have
never really specialised in pumpin’ dancefloor-fillers, but it is
possible to creep around looking like a suitably sleazy maniac to a
few of their tunes. My overriding memory of this particular track is
repeatedly bashing my head against a low, sloping ceiling while
grinding my hips sexily along to it in the old venue for a night of
ill repute named The Wendy House. The swearword-laced barks this
provoked only helped to sell the song to anyone watching.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/P51IVqf28Hs" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
People tend to view the ‘90s as a
time of unlimited optimism and positivity these days, but it’s
important to remember that we had to deal with tragedy as well. Such
as liking nu-metal acts with awful hair and beards against our will.
Coal Chamber: the 9/11 of the ‘90s.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Addendum: for some reason everyone at
the metal club I grew up at danced to Coal Chamber while staring at
the ceiling. Like, with their eyes looking up but not their faces. It
was only Coal Chamber they did this to. Weird. Some kind of doomsday
virus at work.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/qPfaN6uHgag" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Given the current trends within the
games industry, I’m surprised no one has yet adapted this song by
The Cranberries into a multiplayer survival-FPS. If they really
wanted to be edgy they could incorporate elements of what the song is
actually about, too. Pro-tip for this song: try singing along to it
without an Irish accent. It sounds so fucking wrong.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/6Ejga4kJUts" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sometimes, when no-one is listening, I
make the weird AUUUUW noise from this song. I’m not sure what
purpose that serves. It just happens, like gravity and love and
magnets. I have to include the unedited non-official video here,
because the song is approximately 2,000,037 times better with it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/1QxioaGm2ag" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Before they split into two bands, each
approximately half as good as old Sepultura, the original Sepultura
were the fucking tits. Example? Example.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/NiwqRSCWw2g" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I’m not even sure why this ended up
on the vaguely alt.ish dancefloors of sweaty York rock clubs. It’s
a good tune, but not an obvious rhythmic hipswinger and even back
then hardly anyone knew who VAST were. Still, this list is what it is
and now we just have to buckle up and deal with it one snarky entry
at a time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/MQW5sf7zPxo" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=584941436461766064" name="_GoBack"></a>I miss this
Sisters track getting significant dancefloor airplay, partly because
it’s a great track but mostly because it isn’t over an hour long
with three-quarters of the entire length spent repeating the same
chorus line over and over again. HEY NOW HEY NOW NOW PLEASE STOP.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/-GwWra1sQgo" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
People who don’t like the final song
for this edition of STANK should be rounded up and dropped onto a
tropical island with some basic supplies and rusty weapons to eke out
a harsh survivalist lifestyle, carving out territory in a lawless
land where warlords can live as tyrannical god-kings.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A loudspeaker system would be set up so
that this song is broadcast island-wide on repeat, interspersed only
with wild, shrieking abuse from the condemneds’ loved ones –
denouncing them for having let them down and betrayed them on every
conceivable level.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And the whole thing should be filmed
and broadcast on television 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with
commentary delivered from a team of existential philosophers and
nihilists under a banner partly comprised of Ant & Dec’s
swollen bloody corpses.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You know it’s the right thing to do.
The campaign starts here.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/PTqCwlQODxo" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
See you next time for more of the same.
Just the same idea repeated, over and over again. Until we're all
gone.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* "back in the day" to be defined
as whenever the hell I say it was.</div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-70232293734054302092013-08-11T14:19:00.000+01:002014-01-29T10:29:03.749+00:00Godflesh - A Rough Guide<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I have to confess to a
real love for bands with names that tell you exactly what you are
going to hear before the needle even drops to the wax. And it could
never be said that anyone would listen to a band called Godflesh
without expecting to have their aural canal battered mercilessly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Formed in 1988 by Justin
Broadrick and G.C. Green, the band already had an astonishing musical
pedigree given that it was two teenagers bellowing about urban
disillusionment. Broadrick had played for both grindcore pioneers
Napalm Death (co-writing the first and superior half of their highly
influential debut 'Scum') and noise rock obscuronauts Head Of David.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">They wasted no time in
outlining a manifesto of decay, intensity and brutal collapse. Unlike
many bands, for Godflesh influences are to be woven together into an
unrecognisable whole rather than worn on the sleeve. Thus from a
heady concoction of '80s crusty punk, raw piercing industrial,
spaced-out dub and experimental hip-hop comes the roaring wounded
beast that was their eponymous debut EP. It's difficult to overstate
just how different this was to anything that had come before it. The
closest touchstone at the time was Ministry's work in transitioning
from synthpop to something far more aggressive and evil, but beyond
some superficial similarities in fusing guitars and electronics the
comparison runs dry. At the time, there was simply nothing out there
remotely like Godflesh.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'Godflesh' –
1988 - “Weak Flesh”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/4Y56GfQ5Z9E" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The following year
Broadrick and Green dropped 'Streetcleaner' on an unsuspecting
audience of musical extremophiles. Still widely lauded as their best
work (which I would disagree with), it takes the formula set down by
their debut EP and fucks with it harshly. Forming a cogent whole that
physically seethes with insignificant fury, to listen to this album
is to invoke the absolute nadir of Thatcherite urban life. It is
broken glass, shattered concrete and random violence written large
under a banner of godless horror. Mechanised self-flagellating
impotent apathy. Music to detonate council estates to.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh –
'Streetcleaner' – 1989 - “Christbait Rising”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/JsWv9nFLl_s" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">A flurry of EPs followed
through 1991, with Godflesh doing their subconscious level best to
alienate the metal-oriented fanbase that had begun to build around
them. This audience was an unintended consequence of releasing debut
material so unrelentlessly punishing, and while it is remarkable now
that more experimental material would piss off Godflesh listeners,
the early '90s were a much more provincial time for metal. The
Slavestate EP, and in particular the title track, took ahold of the
spreading techno contagion and grasped it lovingly around the neck,
finding yet another chemical infusion to inject into an already
hæmorrhaging organ. This would not be the first time that Broadrick
and Green would take a more popular electronic genre and crumple it
into their own weeping shapes.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'Slavestate'
– 1991 - “Slavestate”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/5HVuqrilCM8" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">'Slateman' was released
the same year, a single that was later fused with the 'Slavestate' EP
for collectors and latecomers. It offers another fascinating early
insight into a later direction, this time with a melodic underpinning
that makes the buzzsaw guitars and Green's deep sea bass detonations
into a thing of soaring beauty rather than a discomfiting trauma.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'Slateman' –
1991 - “Slateman”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Fegt-bD3q_k" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">It's astonishing even now
to consider how many boundaries were left crushed and broken in the
wake of Godflesh's advance, before they had even inflicted a second
full-length LP on the planet. 'Pure' arrived in 1992 and delivered
50% monstrous rolling metal set to beats that were in turn half
early-'90s techno slowed down to heartbeat pace and half puncture
wound-rhythm hip-hop. The other 50% of the record satisfied their more experimental
urges with extended feedback and noise pieces that are at points
exquisitely masochistic trials to endure. By spinning out the length
and focus on some tracks, the duo had started to build the sense of
churning hypnosis that would be so fundamental to their next album.
Looking back on 'Pure' now it is easy to make some criticisms. The
production isn't fantastic and both types of song have a tendency to
bleed into one another – this does the job of painting a single
portrait of the needle-swamped alleyway of British culture nicely,
but also chokes the delivery before it can scream its name.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'Pure' –
1992 ' - “Spite”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/WArKv5ZKLIw" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">'Selfless' was voided into
the world in 1994, and was (in my mind) the absolute perfected fusion
of everything that had come before it. Brutal, hallucinogenic echoes
in the silence. A more natural sound that nevertheless machine-tooled
every single percussive concussion and tortured riff to unbelievable
precision. Astonishingly produced and released partly by major label
Columbia records, this would be Godflesh's only flirtation with
mainstream distribution. In every way, 'Selfless' is a mad creature
split between several worlds and all the better for it. Unlike the
previous releases that meshed organic with mechanical in a
blood-and-hydraulic fluid wreckage, this album sequences them
together on a genetic level. It would also be where the real seeds of
their influence on the world of post-metal would start to be overtly
sown.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'Selfless' –
1994 - “Xnoybis”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/_t2oDPfyhO4" width="560"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">1996's 'Songs Of Love And
Hate' continued the more organic feel of the previous record to a
logical conclusion – replacing many of the beats with a drummer in
the form of Brian Mantia (though some hip-hop influence is still
clearly on display in the beats that remain), stripping back the
sound to a more coherent song-oriented approach and turning every
track into a controlled collapse. It's an extremely energetic and
powerful record, maintaining the unmistakable bellowing control of
Godflesh while dancing around the edge of more mainstream metal. It
is, without a doubt, their most easily listenable record. For a
crushingly heavy industrial metal album named for a Leonard Cohen LP,
that's a hell of a trick. A remix collection of more of less the entire album followed - the imaginatively titled 'Love And Hate In Dub' - and is a darkly entrancing curiosity rather than a necessary investment.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'Songs Of
Love And Hate' – 1996 - “Wake”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/yHd3_-mHMlY" width="420"></iframe> </span>
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Three years later Godflesh
decide to fuck with everyone one more time with pretty much the
opposite polar extreme of their sound. Electronics are pushed to the
fore, guitars are stripped back to an underpinning and everything is
suffused with an uncomfortable existential dread for 1999's “Us And
Them”. It's sourceless drum n' bass-slathered body horror for a
select and elite few, and it is the only time Godflesh have been
beaten to the punch. Cubanate's 'Interference' emerged a year prior
to this, and while the two are obviously distinct and vital records
they carry the same internal agony to the bitter end. Thankfully, by
this point the band had so inured their fanbase to a constantly
shifting musical landscape they were happy to be pulled violently in
whatever direction the duo desired. It is truly the most beautiful
thing in existence when an audience matures enough to obviate the
term 'sellout'. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'Us And Them'
– 1999 - “I, Me, Mine”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/DRQlt3FLTXU" width="560"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Of note for a decent
overview of their albums to this point, as well as a collection of
rarities, is the anthology 'In All Languages'. While summarising
Godflesh's discography is an exercise in futility, it makes the best
stab it is probably possible to make and is therefore a decent
starting point. It also contains this slightly obscure gem from a
1989 compilation.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'In All
Languages' – 2001 - “Love Is A Dog From Hell”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/zC30cDdTkec" width="560"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Godflesh's final LP to
date arrived in 2001, and 'Hymns' is an oddly appropriate coda. More
stripped back and direct than any previous work, a live drummer in
Ted Parsons is again brought on board to relegate electronic beats to
the occasional background piece. Finally perhaps finding a balanced
point between the melodic and the furious, it is a unique record that
reduces what has come before without sacrificing integrity, quality
or the inner emotional turmoil that enabled it all. It is the final
whistling noises in the ears of Icarus three seconds before impact.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Godflesh – 'Hymns' –
2001 - “Regal”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/lRJLPu0yq5U" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The band imploded in 2002,
with G.C. Green's departure and Broadrick's ensuing nervous
breakdown. Throughout the timeline of Godflesh, Broadrick had
released hordes of side project material and continues to do so, as
well as being the central force behind the masterful
post-metal/shoegaze act Jesu. In 2012 the duo reunited for some live
shows and potential new recordings. Beat the pack of inevitable awful
hipster twats and get into Godflesh before they emerge. You will not
regret it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<b>Listen To A Whole Load Of
Godflesh On Spotify <a href="http://open.spotify.com/artist/5A4ebXQf38xWIq0xSWLhsS" target="_blank">HERE</a>.</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<b><i>Essential Records:</i>
Streetcleaner, Selfless, Us And Them,
Hymns</b></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-81348671497457131512013-08-04T16:37:00.001+01:002014-01-29T10:31:16.025+00:00Another Half-Arsed Music Blog Series<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Today I had an idea for a
new series of blog pieces while sitting in the bath. And like all
great bathtime thoughts, it was positively steaming with nostalgia
and self-indulgence. So here we are, you and I, staring at each other
through the internet with expectation and anticipation tinged with
just a hint of dry reptilian lust.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hold yourself back from
screaming in hot bouncing desire, but I am about to fling a bunch of
songs at you based on the fact that I used to dance to them a lot in
my teenage years at alternative clubs. But they're not just any only
dancefloor fodder, oh no. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">They are...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>ALTERNATIVE
FLOORFILLERS OF THE '90S THAT ARE NOW KINDA OBSCURE OR AT LEAST
RELATIVELY UNLIKELY TO BE PLAYED COMPARED TO OTHER SONGS BY THE SAME
ARTIST</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">That's catchy as all hell.
Though if you struggle with it, just remember it as
AFOT90STANKOOATRUTBPCTOSBTSA. You have no idea how much I am tempted
to shorten that to 'STANK' for the next installment.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Enough chat. Let's play
some fuckin' tunes.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dub War – like Skindred,
only the exact same band a couple of years earlier. I'm not
exaggerating, incidentally – they actually were the same damn band.
They changed their name because reasons, and had a bit more success.
But for us children of the nascent days of metallicfusionhybridcore,
they were mainly known for the likes of Strike It. AH YEEEH.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/flmfN2pwU20" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Oh, Pete Steele. You were
such a massive weird Playgirl bastard with a voice that undressed
anyone who inclined that way in a ten-mile radius. I'll forever
remember you for your passive-aggressive love/hate relationship with
your own subculture, your potential troubling racism (although equally
potential hilarious satire) and awesome songs like this one.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/vFwYJYl5GUQ" width="420"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Cradle Of Filth weren't
always a ridiculous pantomime version of themselves. Once upon a time
they were ridiculous pantomime versions of other, more Scandinavian
black metal bands. During the latter period they actually seemed to
take themselves seriously, which made it all somehow better. If
you're going to go rifling through the apocrypha for cool ancient
deities to pop into song lyrics, you might as well include some
delusional teenage conviction while you're at it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/4mvh4KIfy9o" width="560"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This Apoptygma Berzerk
tune used to get played all the time, but, like, now it isn't? Like,
their other stuff gets played more instead? Like it's different now?
What's with that?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/oBYrZNZSbf4" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">There's a misconception
among old bitter idiots like me that DJs nowadays just play the big
bands, whereas in the old days they found time for smaller bands too.
It's nonsense. It's just that I, and others like me, no longer
recognise the smaller bands. Because we're old and they're shit and
everyone dies. I used to dance to this Rosetta Stone song all the
time in a long-gone York city centre goth night that took place in a
large ballroom with many patrons who wore very little clothing.
Outside there was a takeaway van that would make grilled cheese bread
rolls if you asked for them. I always had about four while walking
back to my student halls. Summary: times now past were the fucking
BOMB. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/A6I-Q3fsDcs" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">DUH-DUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUUUUUUH.
DUH-DUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUUUUUUH.
DUH-DUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUUUUUUH.
DUH-DUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUUUUUUH. Rinse / repeat / fade out.
Raging Speedhorn. Perfect for a quiet night out.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/wjPeGB2qvQc" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">In front of unsuspecting
nightclub punters in Preston, Lancashire I and several friends would
form a shoulder-linked circle and madly bounce up and down and around
the dancefloor to this System Of A Down song until we had achieved
our goal of just fucking pissing off everyone in the world. This blog
is probably a continuation of that original project, now that I think
about it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/5vBGOrI6yBk" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Look, Babylon Zoo just
happened. Like a natural disaster or a flu epidemic or Curt Hennig's
persistent time away from the ring due to injury. It's no one
person's fault, so we just have to get on with things and try to
build a new life of hope and fulfilled dreams and all that shit.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/GeUx5sdp3qM" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">A prime example of a band
who still get decent dancefloor airplay with some long-forgotten and deserving tunes that never get out there anymore. I'm sick as pigshit of
hearing that one about not wanting to tidy your bedroom when great
Rage Against The Machine songs like this are put on a shelf in a
quiet room where grandpa can listen to them without interference from
the kids.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3L4YrGaR8E4" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Last one for this round.
Nine Inch Nails, with a typically upbeat summer pop hit.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/lWK5Wby1guY" width="560"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">STANK will be back! Or
not. You know how this blog goes by now. In the meantime, look out
for a new Rough Guide coming next weekend/soon/eventually.</span></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-32660165769933996822013-07-14T12:19:00.001+01:002014-01-29T10:31:31.244+00:00Alkaline Trio - A Rough Guide<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Alkaline Trio. In the
world of the alternative mainstream, they would seem to be a dead
cert for stardom. Melodic, catchy, lyrics about murdering people then
running off to wash your hands in a river. And don't get me wrong,
they have had plenty of success and recognition. I'm pretty sure none
of them will ever need to turn tricks on the street-corner again. But
hold them up against their pop-punk peers and it is odd that they
haven't achieved the same levels of worldwide fame.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Or maybe it isn't. <br /><br />And
maybe that's a good thing. After all, then everyone would like them
and people like me would have to pretend they sucked to maintain our
fragile veneer of aloof credibility.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Let's have a wee look
inside their crimson-and-black painted box of wry horrors, shall we?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kicking off in 1996
Illinois with a flurry of EPs, the band (Matt Skiba being the only
founding member currently remaining) found their feet proper with the
foundation of Dan Andriano on bass and co-vocals – an addition that
led to the two-headed beast of songwriting and vocal duties they ride
to this day. Debut album 'Goddamnit' was spat out in 1998, and shows
a surprising maturity given the youth of the band and the undeniable
– indeed, self-conscious and proactively - immature nature of the
American pop-punk scene. Lyrically it deals with much of what they
would concern themselves with for the years to come. Failed romance,
addiction, wry observations about friendship and loss. Never one to
club you over the head with meaning, even this early in their career
Alkaline Trio preferred to sidle up to you stealthily and whisper
these things into your ear underneath the melody.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio –
'Goddamnit' – 1998 - “Nose Over Tail”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/CtwSVyUoA-4" width="420"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">'Maybe I'll Catch Fire'
followed up in 2000 – and for many old-school fans is their
definitive record. Again, it displayed shocking variety and
incisiveness for a band in the early stages of their career. It
ratcheted back the speed and pure pop-punk bounce somewhat, instead
introducing elements of classic rock that they have sneakily kicked
around in plain sight since, to varied levels of success. Album
closer “Radio” is the solution to every tender quiet song by an
alternative band feeding off the mainstream. At this point the band
were still regularly releasing EPs, which are also worthy of
attention once you have exhausted their LP output.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio – 'Maybe
I'll Catch Fire' – 2000 - “Radio”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/QUV-WqhuihM" width="420"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">A switch in labels and
some attention from music journalism worldwide led to the increased
success for third record 'From Here To Infirmary', which was
undeniably slicker and less raw than their earlier work – both in
terms of songwriting and production. It was the start of what can be
seen as the band's middle incarnation, which brought them their most
immediate success and is in my mind their best work. It kicked them
much further into the public eye, but still denied them the
headlining recognition many of their peers were to receive. I've
touched on that above, but I suppose the real reason is that Alkaline
Trio's feelgoods come with a huge, overbearing caveat. They are
frequently songs about redemption in one form or another, but it is a
pessimistic redemption that is uncertain of ever achieving a lasting
success. Murky stuff if all you want is a three-minute three-chord
riff to bounce to on a sunny day.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio – 'From
Here To Infirmary' – 2001 - “Take Lots With Alcohol”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/2qlaOybYU3Q" width="420"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm not usually a massive
fan of split records – I find that bands tend to relegate songs
they're not quite happy with to them, since they're not being
released under a single banner – but of note at this point was a
split EP recorded with the similarly excellent Hot Water Music, who
will likely get covered in another chapter of this series. Featuring
the bands covering each others' songs as well as a few new tracks, it
was notable that Alk3's songs were a bit less straight-forward
pop-punk in structure than they had been before. A sign of things to
come.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio –
'Alkaline Trio/Hot Water Music' – 2002 - “Queen Of Pain”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/mFmFMhyJvPY" width="420"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">2003's 'Good Mourning'
solidified this shift with the majority of the tracks stretching
themselves out from their simplistic, if well-crafted, origins to
something that straddled the borders of downbeat melodic pop-punk and
straight-up mournful hard rock like some kind of thrashing
flame-drenched creature. It exemplifies exactly what the band does
best, reaching out from a place of dour self-reflection to cheerfully
smack you across the cheeks with a shiteating grin. If you start
anywhere with Alkaline Trio (and you really should), then start here.
Like so many bands, the best work lies in this transition record
between two states. In addition, at least part of this is likely down
to the band actually settling on a drummer – with Derek Grant's
furious attack frequently matching the lyricists' dark melodies
perfectly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio – 'Good
Mourning' – 2003 - “This Could Be Love”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/J91_D-XSil0" width="420"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Most of the songs I use in
these come from records, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention
possibly their best song - “Warbrain”, off the
slightly-embarrassing-now-titled 'Rock Against Bush Vol.1'
complilation. Yeesh. How 2004. It's also available on the excellent
odds n' sods record 'Remains', from 2007. So. Y'know. Get that
instead.<br /><br /><b>Alkaline Trio – 'Rock Against Bush, Vol.1'
compilation – 2004 - “Warbrain”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/C004b8qZifI" width="420"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The transition away from
their raw punky origins was more or less complete with 2005's
'Crimson'. Certainly divisive among their fans at the time, looking
back it's growing increasingly difficult to see where the fuss came
from. They have done far worse things since, and the transition was
really so natural as to be unnoticeable unless one is invested fully
in their first couple of albums. It's definitely a rock record, as
opposed to punk. And the slow creeping inevitability of repeating
yourself with age means it comes across as more crafted and less
directly honest. But it's still a solid album, introducing new gothic
(and I use that word in the American sense of a bit creepy and sad
rather than actually goth) elements and a penchant for using
instrumentation other than guitars and drums that has served them in
good stead since. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio –
'Crimson' – 2005 - “The Poison”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/FikWqyyI_JM" width="560"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Less favourable things can
be said of 2008's 'Agony & Irony', without a doubt the lowpoint
of their career to date. Advancing further into the dull comfort of
adult rock, there really is little to recommend about the album over
their others. It's not appalling and embarrassing in the way that
many bands become when they fully shed their youthful energy, but for
a band based around hooks and melodies there are surprisingly few on
show. The one exception is this track from Dan Andriano, which I
suppose proves that even their turds have the occasional blackened
gem in them. Often overlooked, certainly in terms of singles,
Andriano's contributions to their albums over the years have provided
a steady pulse that Matt Skiba can dance around while crowing about
flames and hearts and oh-so-dark things in the basement.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio – 'Agony &
Irony' – 2008 - “Do You Wanna Know?”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ArLWxcIaxY0" width="420"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Touted as a return to
their punk rock roots, 2010's 'This Addiction' certainly delivered a
far more immediate and satisfying record than they had produced since
2003. The raw energy – and certainly the pining lyricism – seems
a bit more forced than it had done previously, but for a band
stepping over the corpses they had left behind them they were
certainly not really putting a foot wrong. As an effort to recapture
their glory years (creatively if not financially, since both
'Crimson' and 'Agony & Irony' were fairly resounding successes
sales-wise) it's a solid one.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio – 'This
Addiction' – 2010 - “This Addiction”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/GNS4CR7vP4c" width="560"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">And y'know, I only got the
new album 'My Shame Is True' this week. So forgive me if I'm vague on
it. But it seems like a decent if unremarkable follow-up to 'This
Addiction', following a similar blueprint for their mid-period
material with an up-to-date production sheen. Ask me again in five
years, and maybe I'll hold a more controversial opinion on it. But
for now, pitch yourself bodily into their back catalogue. If you're
committed, make sure you're wildly laughing, covered in oil and
flinging lighted matches around while you do it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Alkaline Trio – 'My
Shame Is True' – 2013 - “Midnight Blue”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ONFzsj6pP5w" width="560"></iframe></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><b>Listen
To A Whole Load Of Alkaline Trio On Spotify </b></span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://open.spotify.com/artist/1aEYCT7t18aM3VvM6y8oVR" target="_blank">HERE</a></b></span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Essential
Records:</i> Maybe I'll Catch Fire, From Here To Infirmary, Alkaline Trio/Hot Water Music, Good Mourning, This Addiction</b></div>
</div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-9299172580714831462013-07-06T10:43:00.000+01:002014-01-29T10:31:41.192+00:00Killing Joke - A Rough Guide<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>So, what the hell is the
point of this? Think of it as a rough guide to bands you should have
been listening to for years. If you have been, then well done. You're
one step ahead of the heaving, cursing masses. You may still get
something out of these pieces – nostalgia, insight, the warm
satisfaction of helping me achieve sexual release through the raw
erotic pleasure I get from my hit counter notching up one more
peon.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The format? 10 songs, drawn from as many different
albums as possible. Linked through via the magic of YouTube, Spotify
and other such wonders. Some hastily constructed words about them and
the band themselves. Without any further ado, then.</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Killing Joke. Post-punk
chameleons hailing from the arse-end of 1970s London, they have been
ridiculously influential on a frankly ludicrous number of musicians
from a lurching cacophony of genres. Over the last 35 (FUCKING
THIRTY-FIVE) years they have morphed into a number of shapes, most of
which have managed to both leave their mark on a sound and maintain
their trademark feverish post-apocalyptic tribal fury.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The first track is picked
straight off their first EP, 'Turn To Red'. As well as being draped
with their early imagery courtesy of graphic artist Mike Coles – a
mixture of stark colours, clippings from propaganda, high-rise
tenements and contorted harlequin faces – it sets out their stall
with a relentless percussive beat, Jaz Coleman's snarling
denouncements of modern society and a distant echoing sensation that
conjures up the notion that it is being beamed straight into your
cortex from a subverted spy satellite.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke – 'Turn To
Red' – 1979 - “Are You Receiving?”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The debut eponymous album
followed within a year, and augmented the uncomfortable punk throb
with a predilection for the melodic guitars and howls of the nascent
modern metal scene. This cut is a standout from a surprisingly cogent
and mature first album that, in a UK shimmering with the youthful
glow of the second worldwide wave of punk, manages to feed on that
energy while laying the groundworks for what would later become
industrial rock and metal. In the north of England, Throbbing Gristle
were busy contorting noise into music. Down in London, Killing Joke
were utilising similar principles to contort music into noise.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke – 'Killing
Joke' – 1980 - “Requiem”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The title of 1981's second
album, 'What's THIS For...!', is an apt demonstration of the
principles of early Killing Joke - a non-sequitur lending purpose to
futility. The sound remained largely similar to their debut, albeit
with the improved production that tamed many a punk band instead
lending a feeling of discordant discomfort that suited their
wide-eyed unholy prophecy down to the ground. A more markedly tribal
percussion from Big Paul Ferguson lent credence to their ongoing
crusade, an intellectually violent wardance against the growing urban
wasteland around them. The album as a whole is stunningly confident,
crawling with an unclean madness that delivers you straight into the
heart of Jaz Coleman's lyrics. Not entirely a pleasant place to be.
This cut is also notable for having an obscure band named after it,
that later delivered to the world the likes of Godflesh and Napalm
Death.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke – 'What's
THIS For...!' - 1981 - “The Fall Of Because”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The following two albums
('Revelations' and 'Fire Dances') showed an increasing use of occult
imagery, running parallel with an increasing sense of paranoia that
led to most of the band relocating to Iceland in 1982 to avoid the
oncoming apocalypse. Once this failed to appear, it isn't too much of
a stretch to assume that the (presumably) sheepish return to their
home shores helped to fuel the mellowing of their sound. This shift
reached its apex with 1985's 'Night Time', which utilised their
already established infectious rhythms to slot comfortably (as
comfortable as Killing Joke could ever be said to be) into the
burgeoning New Wave scene. While they haven't really held onto this
position in the minds of the general populace in the intervening
years, their quasi-pop sound was dark and unsettling enough to have
lodged itself firmly into goth subculture. Nearly 30 years later,
“Love Like Blood” is still a firm eyeliner-and-lace floorfiller.
It's also worth noting that another track from this record,
“Eighties”, contained a bassline so similar to Nirvana's “Come
As You Are” that it inspired a court case that was only dropped
when Kurt Cobain chowed down on the end of a shotgun.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke – 'Night
Time' – 1985 - “Love Like Blood”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Alongside the pulsing bass
of Raven and the stabbing murder-pop guitars of Geordie, new
influences started to bubble to the top of the steeped Killing Joke
cauldron. 1986's underrated 'Brighter Than A Thousand Suns' felt no
shame whatsoever in incorporating elements of prog and funk into a
bubbling '80s conflict of sounds that functions surprisingly
competently given the necessarily mercurial nature of the end result.
This conflict played out both in public and behind the scenes, as
fans decried their newer sound as being more commercial (which it
undoubtedly was) and members of the band themselves began to feel
uncomfortable with their direction. While still fundamentally Killing
Joke and, I would argue, still breaking precious new ground, it was a
long way indeed from the almost-frothing madness of their immediate
post-punk work. Oddly, their increasing use of electronics was touted
as a limiting factor – even though they had been enthusiastic users
of electronics in both sampling and keyboards since their earliest
recordings.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke – 'Brighter
Than A Thousand Suns' – 1986 - “Victory”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Inevitably, this mass
breakdown of forward motion led to a collapse of the band with just
Coleman and Geordie remaining afterwards. The final straw that led to
this seems to have been the release of 1988's 'Outside The Gate',
written and performed by said duo and the only Killing Joke album I
cannot in all good faith recommend. Indulgent and faintly ludicrous
with no seeming quality control whatsoever, it stands out as the only
real turd in their long career. Moving on swiftly, Coleman and
Geordie found themselves in desperate need of other people to
actually complete the band. Eventually they managed to bring previous
bassist Raven back on board, and recruited Martin Atkins on drums.
The resulting industrial superstorm led to a renewal of their filthy
creative juices which initially resulted in the barely restrained
furious spasm that is 1990's 'Extremities, Dirt & Various
Repressed Emotions'. Far more turbulent and unpleasant than anything
they had produced since their early years, it is the classic example
of a band reclaiming their own heritage by going back to their roots
and finding the passion again. In the case of Killing Joke, this is
of course the passion of a scrabrous street-corner prophet denouncing
the habits of the great and good as he quotes Crowley and Malthus in
equal measure.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke –
'Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions' – 1990 -
“Money Is Not Our God”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">However, this refreshed
sense of purpose was almost slaughtered in the cradle when Jaz
Coleman, quite predictably, chose to relocate himself to a remote
Pacific island. Presumably to avoid another oncoming apocalypse.
During the development of 'Laugh? I Nearly Bought One!', an anthology
spanning a good deal of their career to date, the first Killing Joke
bassist Youth managed to persuade Coleman away from his paranoia and
back into the studio for a reformed band that jammed together various
folk from all over the history of the band. The first product of this
was 1994's 'Pandemonium', which managed to pick up the reigns of
industrial rock from where Killing Joke left them hanging back in the
early 1980s. With Middle Eastern sonic touches and unafraid to fully
embrace their historic love for electronics, it is undoubtedly one of
their records that can be said to be truly definitive. A raw, melodic
howl into a void of half-remembered snippets from Victorian occult
texts and semi-glimpsed fractal nightmares.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke –
'Pandemonium' – 1994 - “Mathematics Of Chaos”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Ie66kdgHGYQ" width="420"></iframe></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This lineup produced a
follow-up in 1996's 'Democracy', a record which is fondly thought of
by every Killing Joke fan except myself. It does most of the things
'Pandemonium' does, only calmer and with more optimism. I prefer my
wide-eyed demented industrial post-punk frenzy with a bit more
unbridled rage, thanks. The band hopped onto the extended hiatus
train after that for their biggest fallow period to date. It would be
seven years before we would hear from them again, but it was worth
the wait. Returning in 2003 with their second eponymous album, the
naming decision itself adequately summarised what they had done. A
rebirth that put all those who had aped them over the intervening
years to shame, the record was a wildly screaming kick to the chest
that helped to restart the failing heart of the industrial metal
scene. Without a doubt their heaviest album so far, it treads a
beautiful line between accessible riffage and borderline certifiable
supernaturally-tinged conspiracy theory. Perhaps surprisingly given
their antagonistic history with Nirvana, Dave Grohl was brought on
board to perform drums – he is of course absolutely spot-on, and
blends perfectly with the shivering whole.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke – 'Killing
Joke' – 2003 - “Asteroid”</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">2006's 'Hosannas From The
Basement Of Hell' was like an evil chimera of all their previous
sounds at once – with urban industrial horror, racing punk
bloodstreams and catapult-pitched melodic swansong all combining into
a whole that just about manages to carry it off. It is essentially
the noise passing through the head of a reborn 21<sup>st</sup>
century Jack The Ripper. While not their finest ever, it certainly
cemented the clarity that even this late into their career Killing
Joke could produce an album that sounded vital, fresh and –
crucially – exactly like Killing Joke. Throughout the closing
section of the standout title track, Coleman wretchedly roars “I'm
not a murderer yet.” The sense of foreboding throughout is
palpable.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke – 'Hosannas
From The Basement Of Hell' – 2006 - “Hosannas From The Basement
Of Hell”</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Raven's death in 2007 led
to a more reflective record with 2010's 'Absolute Dissent'. Perhaps
their most varied album to date, and doing an excellent job of
stripping back their 21<sup>st</sup> century sound to an experience
that manages to be calmer – dare I say it, mature – while
retaining a turbulent heart that carries the same essential message
of social revolt and pessimistic despair for our species. 2012's
'MMXII' followed a similar pattern, albeit with a lesser degree of
success. Over the long years Killing Joke have proved themselves a
fascinating band, seemingly unable to rest on their laurels for long
with an unshakeable sense of identity. My primary reason for hoping
the end of mankind never arrives is that if it does, this band will
have performed their function to completion and will therefore cease
to be.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Killing Joke – 'Absolute
Dissent' – 2010 - “In Excelsis”</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Listen To Whole Load Of Killing Joke On Spotify <a href="http://open.spotify.com/artist/0Zy4ncr8h1jd7Nzr9946fD" target="_blank">HERE</a></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Essential Records:</i> Killing Joke (1980), What's THIS For...!, Night Time, Brighter Than A Thousand Suns, Pandemonium, Killing Joke (2003), Absolute Dissent</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Feel A Burgeoning Need To Listen To Them Repeatedly? Please Acquire Them With Cold Hard Cash. Downloading Isn't Theft, But It Does Make You A Bit Of A Twat If You Try Then Don't Buy. </b></div>
</div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-11490566773893563772012-11-04T14:36:00.001+00:002014-01-29T10:32:36.350+00:00<a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/gig-review-damnationfest-2012-so-its.html" style="font-size: xx-large;" target="_blank">Gig Review: Damnationfest 2012</a><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So it's that time of year again when I
can write a review of a metal festival, post it, then link to it in
as many places as possible so that a vast array of meatheads can
email me and post comments to tell me LOL UR GAY GWAR WER AWESUM etc.
Admittedly, Gwar didn't play Damnationfest this year. But you get the
general idea.<br />
<br />
Note for Damnationfest organisers: get Gwar in
for next year. If there isn't any simulated sex onstage between
bandmembers and people in penguin costumes, I'm not coming.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As always for a large multi-stage
festival, this review comes loaded with the caveat that I am one man
who quite enjoys standing or sitting in one spot for some length of
time, and so I will be covering a small subsection of the 23 bands
that played this year. You want me running around taking copious
notes based on two tracks caught from each performer? Fucking pay me.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The festival itself was as
well-structured and maintained as ever – set times were adhered to,
there was a hefty merchandise and stall area, and the Student Union
site allows for a thorough raiding of a small supermarket and bakery
when alcohol and crushing noise just aren't enough. This more than
makes up for the inevitable navigation nightmare that ensues in tight
winding corridors when bands finish and their sweaty herd decides to
take a stroll to another stage. Speaking of stages, a return to a
larger stage layout from the last time I attended (2010, fact fans)
was more than welcome. With The Refectory as the largest stage,
sometimes it was even possible to attain breathing space in the
audience.<br />
<br />
So, music then. I kickstarted my day with the first
band available – the brutal and incendiary <b>Ravens Creed</b>, who filter
old school metal and thrash through a sludgey funnel to produce riffs
so meaty that they bleed on their way out of the speakers. It is
bastard heavy stuff, which fills the tight confines of the Eyesore
stage in an extremely satisfying fashion. All this and a quick
derogatory reference to hipsters before launching into a song titled
“Stand Up And Be Cunted”. Recommended.<br />
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYs71KauigwtOWroimoPcg1wIqK3r473JuUj1DkquBU7U5vmFgt9lSQ8A9HVJpNVZMJmP83PU8DyaRwy3DJVBUgglyk-rqNzu1zmctWFZAngAwYanj8kvSweybhXYNyoIGmoogu6p_sfA/s1600/Ravens%252BCreed%252Bravenscreed20101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYs71KauigwtOWroimoPcg1wIqK3r473JuUj1DkquBU7U5vmFgt9lSQ8A9HVJpNVZMJmP83PU8DyaRwy3DJVBUgglyk-rqNzu1zmctWFZAngAwYanj8kvSweybhXYNyoIGmoogu6p_sfA/s320/Ravens%252BCreed%252Bravenscreed20101.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ravens Creed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Next I wander along to the <b>The Atrocity
Exhibit</b>, who peddle a fairly bog standard approach to crusty
grindcore with strong death metal elements. It is technically
accomplished stuff and there is, to turn a phrase, nowt wrong wi' it.
But there's also nothing to particularly fire my enthusiasm. They
come across as lineup-filler to my ears. If the genre is your bag,
you might feel differently. Onwards to <b>Hawk Eyes</b>, the openers on the
main stage. These guys probably fit comfortably into the
post-hardcore bracket. But as discussed on this august site
previously, who the fuck doesn't? This is Mike Patton worship at a
fairly advanced level, melody and chaos being thrust at the crowd in
equal measure. There are haircuts, but obviously some talent behind
them. As a Leeds band they are carrying the local banner proudly, and
certainly are in possession of a fine example of the Leeds
alternative sound. I know what I mean by that. No one else ever seems
to. What, you want clarity? Go read a mainstream site. I was tempted
to stay and catch some more, but time was against me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnArTJyATlrMTVObPphrYiap6yILAX1mtYcmgKQM4zz5lRIkYgjCzatEm_GWamdGeX1ZhOs47O0HYFvdpOnGimNFh5mgr2jNPomo2j7YBwUOimm9AXkjuaawzA3Ar0pnusnonTXqH24W8/s1600/Hang+the+Bastard+Sabbath+Worship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnArTJyATlrMTVObPphrYiap6yILAX1mtYcmgKQM4zz5lRIkYgjCzatEm_GWamdGeX1ZhOs47O0HYFvdpOnGimNFh5mgr2jNPomo2j7YBwUOimm9AXkjuaawzA3Ar0pnusnonTXqH24W8/s320/Hang+the+Bastard+Sabbath+Worship.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hang The Bastard</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And I was quite glad it was, in the
end. It allowed me to catch a good chunk of the elegantly-named <b>Hang
The Bastard</b>, who are probably the most polite sludgecore band on the
planet. In a genre populated almost exclusively by heavily-bearded
men who like to drink heavily and punch their fans in the face, it is
refreshing to be addressed from stage in-between tectonic slabs of
metal by a chap who speaks to a baying crowd like they are his
girlfriend's mum. They do what they do very well – and let's not
fool ourselves here, every sludge band on the planet sounds exactly
the same. Variations on Eyehategod and Iron Monkey, rinse and repeat.
It's a genre that wallows proudly in its influences, and while I
usually find that cause for concern I'm happy to make an exception
for the likes of Hang The Bastard. They have the requisite number of
fat bastards, colossal grooving riffs and glass-in-throat gargling to
make me a happy man. Another promising find.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOP2jFQ421SUIGhRwvzgZjqaRTWQOBPkhBx7fxTD9msgBHkYqoOBpcKgNUzHs16tQ7lc8U3S0wcR66N8qyJvvGGjR-FlK4SWyjxwy0Bp5-AjRUVU1D8IATD26zAUFZ0qMfWL4hqtlTUYw/s1600/Wodensthrone%252B%252B2012a%252BPNG.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOP2jFQ421SUIGhRwvzgZjqaRTWQOBPkhBx7fxTD9msgBHkYqoOBpcKgNUzHs16tQ7lc8U3S0wcR66N8qyJvvGGjR-FlK4SWyjxwy0Bp5-AjRUVU1D8IATD26zAUFZ0qMfWL4hqtlTUYw/s320/Wodensthrone%252B%252B2012a%252BPNG.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wodensthrone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Upon removing myself to the Eyesore
stage again to see <b>Wodensthrone</b>, I find that in my absence a vast
swathe of the attendees have engaged in asexual reproduction to form
an impenetrable mass that I can only access via wedging myself
between the bar, other stinking humans and a wheelchair access
device. This is ridiculously uncomfortable, but I suffer through the
incredible pain (probably more than you have ever experienced) to see
a fair whack of the set. From my agonising position near the back of
a low room with a grooved, curved ceiling and multiple open spaces to
either side (detail I will throw in to make any sound engineers
reading this bite the back of their hand in terror) most of what I
can hear is a muffled cacophony of guitars and distorted keyboards.
Using my sensitive and astounding critic powers, I can tell that
Wodensthrone are something pretty damn impressive. Atmospheric,
melodic black metal played right down the nose. The band themselves
are obviously engrossed in their performance, which has a knock-on
effect of drawing the audience in despite a relative lack of movement
or extroverted energy onstage. Having lost several limbs in my
contorted position, I retreat after catching enough of them to ensure
they are a quality Jormungandr-bothering enterprise.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl9GZtADfh9klPA4mgCetZSFCZjVpx0CAFkKR1eXysAbt19VPYOPZ-tMhTyzwd7SPHLs-_NXdakCgtHchP-AOQPmoQgXsNL6Gw2f61H9o8mZP3N13fKDftAj9ggjh1PHptfAlp1RIz-s/s1600/Blacklisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl9GZtADfh9klPA4mgCetZSFCZjVpx0CAFkKR1eXysAbt19VPYOPZ-tMhTyzwd7SPHLs-_NXdakCgtHchP-AOQPmoQgXsNL6Gw2f61H9o8mZP3N13fKDftAj9ggjh1PHptfAlp1RIz-s/s320/Blacklisters.jpg" height="222" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blacklisters</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The stage empties out significantly for
the next band I catch, <b>Blacklisters</b>. Which is a shame, and probably
largely because they fall under the aforementioned category of
'hipster' for the majority of metalheads attending. That's not to say
they're not, mind. But if they are, then they are top-notch hipster
entertainment. Spasming noise rock that doesn't sound a million miles
away from an amped-up Shellac being fed into a woodchipper, the major
flaw in a performance more physical than most is that they give off a
palpable sense of too-cool-for-this that they get away with primarily
because they are fucking good at what they are doing. They're
probably a bunch of cunts, but that's kind of alright when their
music makes every odd-numbered organ in your body leap twelve feet to
the left.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Back to the main stage for <b>Textures</b>, a
band I seem to not be able to get behind despite their influences
being big favourites of mine. But I think that is largely the
problem. It's all second-hand Meshuggah riffs alternated with melodic
sections that sound like either Devin Townsend or Alice In Chains,
depending on what the band felt like the day they wrote it. And trust
me, I realise that sounds awesome. But in execution, it lacks
something significant. While as a whole the songs sound polished and
slick – which is to their detriment in and of itself –
transitions between thundering djent and lofty melody are sudden,
awkward and ill-timed. Truly less than the sum of their parts,
Textures just come across as a fusion of different derivative
elements. I will say this, though – they have a better stage
presence as a whole band than any other act over the entire day.
Shame about the music.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The next band I attempt to see are
<b>Bossk</b>, but it becomes clear that actually getting into the Eyesore
stage is more trouble than it is worth and may involve stabbing a
good number of people to actually move forward ten or so feet. If I
was a less charitable man I might claim that this was down to a great
number of local scene pricks hanging out by the bar and talking
over the music in a pathetic attempt to accrue points for being
there. But I am nothing if not charitable, so let's move on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOW0iQzdqL1kxrclhpaejFOsK_oye45eAxpxwc1NX5QnkcmrWvzCStXB_tB0MbNWw_HTUWALr_11TpETwKiAY4PQZb6T4gZbw0SvkVza1TUXj4r48XsPzJVVdKpdKFkdlq-3F8SFqgUo/s1600/Gama+Bomb+l_b4cf7bb40a8ee3086f078720c8bc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOW0iQzdqL1kxrclhpaejFOsK_oye45eAxpxwc1NX5QnkcmrWvzCStXB_tB0MbNWw_HTUWALr_11TpETwKiAY4PQZb6T4gZbw0SvkVza1TUXj4r48XsPzJVVdKpdKFkdlq-3F8SFqgUo/s320/Gama+Bomb+l_b4cf7bb40a8ee3086f078720c8bc.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gama Bomb</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Gama Bomb</b> take to the stage some time
later, and it is clear that they have quite a following for a band
halfway up the lineup. I can see why, too. Kind of. They play thrash
metal on the punkier end of the spectrum, full of lyrics about
zombies and evil and haha what a jolly lark it is to be in a metal
band blah blah blah. Which I admit is probably very appealing if
you're not me, and therefore crippled by cynicism and pretension. The
band themselves are clearly as happy to play as the crowd are to hear
them, and almost completely defuse any criticism I might make of them
playing derivative mediocre material with a 'comedy' spin (the
inverted commas are because to produce successful comedy, you need
actual jokes and not just to write songs about daft things) by
reading out amusing critiques of them - containing sentiments much
the same as what I was thinking while watching - to the audience, and
remaining pretty self-aware of their limitations throughout. So well
played, Gama Bomb. I didn't particularly like you, but now feel like
a bit of a dick for it. Well played.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOk1G5mCi7qjlIVb7qA0yr9dOMcw0LRGF3NzhAJdyCANA7XL0BPwBWCBtUCkBcsGDfPONo70vG4UzYK_kc-a8dlVpar7A_UM2vFWhTc6-4X2gVPqyARX4lWST8nzUy24-Ul7Sazlr3sGU/s1600/Primordial+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOk1G5mCi7qjlIVb7qA0yr9dOMcw0LRGF3NzhAJdyCANA7XL0BPwBWCBtUCkBcsGDfPONo70vG4UzYK_kc-a8dlVpar7A_UM2vFWhTc6-4X2gVPqyARX4lWST8nzUy24-Ul7Sazlr3sGU/s320/Primordial+4.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Primordial</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Next up on the main stage are
<b>Primordial</b>, who are one of the only bands I have failed to research
or listen to before arriving. Yes, I research these things. I'm not
some bequiffed and tattooed wanker who thinks their cache as a critic
is largely linked to how many bands they can get wasted with and
whose copy is littered with basic factual errors about genre and
sound. I am a proud unpaid professional and none of you are worthy of
kissing my damn feet.<br />
<br />
But I digress, slightly. Primordial. I
had no idea what to expect, which may have been a contributing factor
to how impressed I was. Which was very. Highly melodic blackened doom
with sub-operatic vocals (that's a compliment, folks) performed like
road-hardened veterans. Frontman Alan Averill – yeah, I've done my
research now – herded and drove the crowd like a master, splattered
with Jackson Pollock corpse paint and unafraid to bellow slightly
ridiculous metal banter at the crowd without the slightest sense of
irony. Galloping riffs underpinned by atmospheric breakdowns, all
wolves and blood red stars and moonlight glinting off blades.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Lovely stuff.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig52g8eFYY6g5XdOCxQbPUNAuMPatWvvUfUY1tqTzy_9WS7Tyj1KSUndVuegyZ0UOYXYUyzu95Vdul5PlWrSd8SOaPDJCoGZkZ_EZeSLIQ9_Fw7iXiqOtCjnLaCNkp33ZPJ_dT7Nxqvik/s1600/My+Dying+Bride+Promo+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig52g8eFYY6g5XdOCxQbPUNAuMPatWvvUfUY1tqTzy_9WS7Tyj1KSUndVuegyZ0UOYXYUyzu95Vdul5PlWrSd8SOaPDJCoGZkZ_EZeSLIQ9_Fw7iXiqOtCjnLaCNkp33ZPJ_dT7Nxqvik/s320/My+Dying+Bride+Promo+2012.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Dying Bride</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So onto <b>My Dying Bride</b>, who I had not
been particularly anticipating despite being a big fan. I'm not sure
why. Perhaps because I have seen them a number of times before,
perhaps because it has been 6 years since they released an album that
really impressed me. Either way, by strolling onstage and giving the
best performance of the day they left me pleasantly surprised. A
newly-shorn Aaron looked like some kind of ascetic hermit as he
stalked onstage and writhed around in torment to their definitive
brand of gothic doom. I would hope the torment is pretty much faux,
after all these years. Otherwise the poor lad must have an awful time
of all these immortal unfulfilled desires and eternally lost hopes.
Either way, My Dying Bride forced a wonderfully miserable setlist
down our throats. Highlights included a three-in-a-row blinder of
“Like Gods Of The Sun”, “To Remain Tombless” and “She Is
The Dark” that was without a doubt the best twenty minutes I've had
in quite some time. No sniggering at the back.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7fOeONwSt9JNXlwOnNeoWcfOELjDZMgEsFRMq8R_v3cqUxLgaFxlHD-P6b0qyjus3NdZGxcibu99OVlhqP7OdshroGr2Dqi4KT5GFOhyKuDrq5xlHpmcxfmpOSbqBuufjjsqn0qOXXw/s1600/Pig+Destroyer+0729MetalSkullPigDestroyerJonP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7fOeONwSt9JNXlwOnNeoWcfOELjDZMgEsFRMq8R_v3cqUxLgaFxlHD-P6b0qyjus3NdZGxcibu99OVlhqP7OdshroGr2Dqi4KT5GFOhyKuDrq5xlHpmcxfmpOSbqBuufjjsqn0qOXXw/s320/Pig+Destroyer+0729MetalSkullPigDestroyerJonP.jpg" height="215" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pig Destroyer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Main stage headliners <b>Electric Wizard</b>
emerged a short time later to a psychedelic backdrop and immense
rolling feedback that gave way to monolithic riffage. They're quite
heavy, quite slow and they like Black Sabbath a fair bit. Not much
else needs to be said, really. Especially since I left their set
about 15 minutes in (which means I only heard about one-tenth of a
song) to go see <b>Pig Destroyer</b> headline the Terrorizer stage. The
cerebral grindcore heroes were the main draw of the festival for me,
so I arrived there in anticipation despite the lethargy of the
teetotal festival-goer and my natural sense of almost complete
contempt for everything. When they finally kicked off somewhat late,
it quickly became apparent that the sound in the main crowd pit was
pretty damn abysmal. So I moved to a higher balcony, where the sound
was undoubtedly improved. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the
problems with the set. While it sounded better up high, J.R. Hayes
vocals were still a muffled croaking mush. I get that in grindcore
that is kinda the standard anyway, but it came across as technical
rather than stylistic. The band themselves seemed fairly nonplussed
at being there, spending most of their time rocking back and forth on
their feet and looking at each other. There was little to no crowd
interaction, each song was bookended with about two minutes of either
silence or keyboard/sampler noise and after the first ten minutes or
so there was a noticeable steady bleed of audience members out from
the room. <br />
<br />
Quite a few of them wearing Pig Destroyer shirts,
which is never a good sign.<br />
<br />
I am actually still struggling to
reconcile what I thought of this gig with the obvious violent bliss
many were feeling down in the main pit. There was a veritable tsunami
of bodies rolling back and forth down there, and I wonder if from my
lofty physical and emotional perch I wasn't getting it. But all I can
do is call 'em as I see 'em. And the band seemed as bored as the
members of the audience who weren't kicking the shit out of each
other. Once a long technical problem halfway through soaked up a lot
of set time, the number of tunes that actually got played was pretty
pathetic. After accounting for a late start, an early finish, a
technical gap in the middle, an unwarranted departure for an encore
and healthy amounts of absolute nothing inbetween two-minute long
songs, I'd estimate that Pig Destroyer played between twenty and
twenty-five minutes of music in a headlining set. <br />
<br />
Not good
enough. Nowhere near. Especially shortly after having seen Primordial
and My Dying Bride, both of whom performed headline-quality sets in
standard slots. All this and no “Mapplethorpe Grey” or “Carrion
Fairy”. A big fat hefty 'meh' for the my main draw of the festival.
<br />
<br />
And yet I left feeling thoroughly satisfied. Overall, it
represented a fucking solid day of extremely obnoxious music. Chalk
another one up for the Damnationfest team. Bring on next year.</div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-1780981925493639522012-09-09T13:54:00.001+01:002014-01-29T10:33:02.076+00:00<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/game-review-secret-world-five-day-trial.html" target="_blank">Game Review: The Secret World (Five-Day Trial Thoughts)</a></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijweDhDnTy40BVWYmZxQLl2AXEZRbvIxqXB03BxA9D3UfnhPNjq98TSEq0W1zAuNYFU00MgF3XG4qGAha2mTBmYQ0MgMckLhE1PemN7c_sWqEqmDxriXYmJ_XrND2bziI0WK0P1oWFXu4/s1600/Secret_World_cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijweDhDnTy40BVWYmZxQLl2AXEZRbvIxqXB03BxA9D3UfnhPNjq98TSEq0W1zAuNYFU00MgF3XG4qGAha2mTBmYQ0MgMckLhE1PemN7c_sWqEqmDxriXYmJ_XrND2bziI0WK0P1oWFXu4/s320/Secret_World_cover.png" height="320" width="281" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Format Played: PC</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As no doubt all of you out there are
aware, it's really difficult to review an MMO. I'm sure you're
nodding your heads furiously. Most of you have probably tried your
hand at it, since we're in the 21<sup>st</sup> century and therefore
slaves to pointless technology.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Inevitably the depth and sprawling
content of a high-profile MMO cannot be devoured fully without a few
months of commitment, and the information that influences your
opinions may well be partially or fully obviated the next time an
update or expansion kicks in. I'm fairly convinced that writing an
MMO review in the first six months of release is utterly pointless,
since that seems to be roughly how long it takes for the bugs to be
ironed out and the playerbase to settle happily into its routines of
grinding, griefing and massively over-reacting on the game forums.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And even when things have settled down, gamechanging expansions can slip into place that make any review useful only as long as it takes for the developer to open up a new game zone where players can play magical alien toasters and thus open up the crafting system to baked products.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
With that in mind, here is a pointless
two month-in quasi-review of The Secret World. This has been inspired
purely by their lovely five day free trial offer, which seems to set
no limits whatsoever other than time, and also seems to be hitting
the general public early – no doubt brought forward by an apparent
low number of initial subscribers and the slow creeping realisation
at Funcom that opening up an MMO without a free-to-play model is a
shockingly foolish thing to do in the current economic and gaming
climate. Especially when your not-quite-AAA game charges more than
the likes of World Of Warcraft, EVE and The Lord Of The Rings Online.
And especially especially when you release your game in the run-up to
the largest clusterfuck of AAA MMO releases in quite some time –
with Guild Wars 2,, Warcraft's Mists Of Pandaria and LOTRO's Riders
Of Rohan all looming heftily on the horizon like some kind of giant
subscriptionless panda on a horse.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=584941436461766064" name="firstHeading"></a>It's
irrelevant to any review of The Secret World as to what they decide
to charge to play it, though. If it is your kind of entertainment
then any remotely reasonable price is worth paying, whether it be a
subscription or a one-off payment. I have often been baffled at the
puzzlement of the more mainstream gamer over people paying monthly
for an MMO, before toddling off to town and slapping down £40 for
3-4 hours of modern military shooter action. £10 per hour of
entertainment vs. £10 per month of entertainment. Mathematics solves
all arbitrary arguments!<br />
<br />
I suppose I should actually start
talking about the game here, then. With the caveat that I have played
5 days worth of it, reached the second map of the first zone and
played around to a minimal degree with different character builds.
Prior to downloading it my overriding notions from reading other
media were that it had been praised for the setting, the writing of
Ragnar Tørnquist and that the classless system had received lots of
attention prior to release but not much after the public actually got
their hands on it.<br />
<br />
In a startling break from the norm, I am
here to tell you that the setting and writing are great and the
classless system is a little bit lacklustre. <br />
<br />
But the setting
and writing are really good. Really, really good actually. Good for a
video game in general, let alone an MMO, which is a genre often
plagued by an overabundance of boar quests and massive spiky
shoulderpads. Within The Secret World you play a newly imbued
practitioner of the martial magic arts, recruited by one of three
covert factions who manage to break free from the conspiracy theory
cliché that surround them to become genuinely interesting
allegiances in a three-way cold war over who exactly gets to
curbstomp evil.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhacpiiIxB_gMpAyjHJz0tO5K284ShFXvyMIXfuv2Pw70UfOwt6tpqtmO8Sxl5sgxh9fY6NZfvzieiwuRNRDUXWEtGLdCBu8HExzKh6UXBs9y7yqGsfcz45jvEei12Li6GPtWT7ZI9hs5U/s1600/Peaceline_picture010.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhacpiiIxB_gMpAyjHJz0tO5K284ShFXvyMIXfuv2Pw70UfOwt6tpqtmO8Sxl5sgxh9fY6NZfvzieiwuRNRDUXWEtGLdCBu8HExzKh6UXBs9y7yqGsfcz45jvEei12Li6GPtWT7ZI9hs5U/s400/Peaceline_picture010.png" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just an average London home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There are The Illuminati, somewhat
eschewing their usual sinister tendencies to become fun-time fratboy
political manipulators. The Templars, who leaven their goody-goody
natures with a touch of stuffy class prejudice and lovely
old-fashioned fascism. And finally the Dragon, who are arcane chaos
mathematicians blending magic with scientific experimentation to
discover the best path to the future. All of them have impressively
constructed hub cities that bleed atmosphere, especially the Templar
launchpad of London which is a skillful blend of London Below, crime
drama cliché and Diagon Alley. Although as with the other zones the
whole 'secret society' theme is somewhat clouded by the seeming high
level of knowledge that everyone outside of the societies possesses
about them. It's tough to work up a sufficiently spooky feeling about
getting inducted into the centuries-old Templars when they are
getting name-checked in the local pub and have massive banners
outside their gaff advertising their presence. On the whole though,
the environmental design and writing more than makes up for this.<br />
<br />
Oh
yes. The writing. I have not had the pleasure of playing a game
written by Tørnquist before, but my hopes weren't high. The kind of
writing that is favoured by the average gamer (let alone MMO convert)
is not my kind of writing, and usually involves protagonists called
Wolf Hawkenblade or something. So I was hugely surprised when his
characters started off on dry, amusing and Whedon-esque pop culture-heavy monologues
that I was actually interested in hearing. They manage to pull you
into the game, provoke a few giggles and build a slimy horror
atmosphere all at the same time. The Secret World had the potential
to be a very po-faced place, and the characters you meet and their
witty opinions on the awful things happening around them help to ease
you in smoothly. Though there is in fact a character called Wolf. Oh
well. I'll let you off, Funcom.<br />
<br />
In fact, the excellence in
execution of a seemingly incongruous blend of humour and horror in a
darker-than-real-life setting initially made me feel like I was
playing Vampire The Masquerade: Bloodlines as an MMO. That's a hell
of a compliment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It's just a shame that there is no way
for you to actually interact with said characters other than
listening to their opening quest or cutscene monologues and clicking
on them for extra flavour speech. Your trusty avatar remains stoic
and mute throughout, which while no doubt cutting down on the
problems engendered by introducing actual roleplaying into an MMO (as
seen in The Old Republic, where a brave attempt by Bioware results in
little-to-no actual consequence on personality, quests or plot) does
also leave you oddly disconnected from the supposed conversation.
Even a stock male/female character voice without any dialogue choice
might have helped with this. Though if any MMO was screaming out for
actual roleplaying and plot choice, it would be this one.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPGU8ovs8odWTNv7rVemd0w3Wxh1epBt8gk4oEpflTD1J4UQFJQwN7KA2HrHHdQyDFRh62gAzyEmyWLBDQDG1TMi0neN3sS4OphSmK67RY1OEL1UbmLTJBGyRkg_BUV65yTZdxe8ajDU/s1600/Peaceline_picture007.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPGU8ovs8odWTNv7rVemd0w3Wxh1epBt8gk4oEpflTD1J4UQFJQwN7KA2HrHHdQyDFRh62gAzyEmyWLBDQDG1TMi0neN3sS4OphSmK67RY1OEL1UbmLTJBGyRkg_BUV65yTZdxe8ajDU/s400/Peaceline_picture007.png" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The campest swift travel in town.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The (secret) world itself is bloated
with detail and exceptional mood-setting touches. In-jokes for horror and pop culture afficionados abound. Lore pickups are
strewn across the landscape and deliver information to you about
areas, history and factions piece by piece until you have the whole
sordid story. The first zone proper is set in what can charitably be
called a Lovecraft pastiche, an island town off the coast of Maine
called – ahem – Kingsmouth. A fog has rolled in off the ocean and
brought with it horrible aquatic monsters that go about converting
the inhabitants into rabid zombies. All three factions promptly send
their operatives into the ensuing survivalist warzone, and before
long you are gallivanting around town wasting the undead and their
fishy chums. It has been said elsewhere that later zones are not as
engaging as the first, and given how superb this first one is I am
not surprised. And it's lucky that it is a pleasure to navigate, because swift travel is extremely limited. You're going to be running around. A lot.<br />
<br />
Solomon Island, and Kingsmouth itself in
particular, is swarming with a beautifully blended mish-mash of
traditional and 21<sup>st</sup> century-horror that leaves no bones
unturned. Lovecraft fish monsters? Check. Resurrected cultists of
unclear and unsavoury nature? Check. Weird new age religionists of
uncertain motive? Check. Historical mass graves indicating some
appalling past the town would rather forget? Check. Witch trials,
mining fires, animated scrap golems, mud monsters, supernatural
serial killers, haunted woods, kids fighting the forces of evil from
a secret treehouse, Native American burial grounds, Men In Black,
portals to hell, sinister occult mercenaries and remote-controlled
plane perverts. All this and a pair of dogs called Tango and Cash.
There is so much going on that the nuance and overall plot could very
easily get lost amidst several seasons of The X-Files happening at
once, and it really is a huge tribute to the writing team and
designers that focus remains in firm control for a gamer who pays
sufficient attention.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
This is strongly aided by the design
decision to severely limit the number of quests that can be carried
out at once to the main story mission, one main mission, one group
mission and three side missions. These probably require some
clarification in and of themselves. The main story mission seems to
be identical across all three factions, and is tied in to resolving
the dark events happening across the zone in general. Main missions
are split across the regular smack-up-the-mobs fare of typical MMOs,
sabotage missions that incorporate stealth and escort mechanics and
investigation missions that provide a cerebral challenge. There are
also infrequent main missions delivered straight to you by a faction
member when you manage to rank up within said faction, providing a
minor sense of narrative difference between the three. Side missions
are picked up from environmental objects and often contain a short
but flavourful story unto themselves, rarely straying into the
straight collect-'em-up mentality of MMO quest filler.<br />
<br />
Main
missions in general are handled via a set of progressive tiers capped
with reporting back in to your faction via a text hand-in that
removes the need to return to the NPC who gave you it in the first
place. This, in combination with the mission limit, makes sure that
you focus on the progression of one story and keeps your character
flowing in one direction with no need for backtracking – which fits
right in with the atmospheric, story-telling strengths of the game.
However, this also means that missions often end with no sense of
resolution regarding the bloke or gal who handed over the mission to
you in the first place. Are they pleased with what has happened?
Horrified? Strangely aroused? You'll never know, which is a shame
given how well they are rounded out in their mission-granting
monologues. Also, if you want to pick up a follow-up mission from
them (albeit they only stock one or two missions in total, though
most are repeatable should you wish to indulge in grinding) you will
have to head back to them anyway.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1f_rvun4Wga2Cfq_sDTGUC7OU8piVCHPbMC47iojYYgyNzlageZfAFR-0H9EdTtbhZ_i_bJNaLKkhEcPnkSejZy7nWcIR-89FvLYBwYZHfCVMVMXqeFUnDRi78nZSjl8vbpqBwSc6ZRg/s1600/Peaceline_picture008.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1f_rvun4Wga2Cfq_sDTGUC7OU8piVCHPbMC47iojYYgyNzlageZfAFR-0H9EdTtbhZ_i_bJNaLKkhEcPnkSejZy7nWcIR-89FvLYBwYZHfCVMVMXqeFUnDRi78nZSjl8vbpqBwSc6ZRg/s400/Peaceline_picture008.png" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many players, enjoying a transport hub & chatting in random abbreviations.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The tier system means that even
combat-heavy missions have a sense of story to them, and this is
exacerbated for the investigation missions where your lateral
thinking and puzzling abilities will genuinely be put to the test. If
you're after a bit of mindless clicking producing that sweet
endorphin high, these are not for you. They variously include object
puzzles, scavenger hunts, scrutinising in-game images for details,
hunting for real-life information and trawling fake faction sites set
up by Funcom for the purposes of secreting data in amongst flavour
information. It's all very fourth-wall destroying, and an utterly
fantastic notion that seems so simple as to be obvious in our world
of viral marketing nonsense. Some of these are tricky stuff, and I
don't mind telling you that I was stumped to the point of Googling
for spoilers on more than one occasion. Each time I regretted not
just giving it more thought.<br />
<br />
A contrast to the superb
investigation missions are the frankly half-implemented sabotage
missions, which commit the cardinal sin of introducing stealth
mechanics into a game that has not been designed with them in mind.
Negotiating laser grids, security cameras and such often proves to be
raw luck combined with trial and error rather than skill and
execution. This is made more frustrating by the one strike and dead
mentality that pervades them, with rooms blowing up once you make a
single mistake. That doesn't seem like effective planning for a
monstrous secret society to me. Contracting and rebuilding costs
alone would put them perpetually in the red.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As a whole the game seems to put a
great focus on solo play – in the opening area of the Solomon
Island zone there was a grand total of one group dungeon (the only
type of group mission, as far as I can see), and open enemy tapping
ensures that if you help out someone being smacked around by a huge
crab monster you are liable to receive thanks rather than be screamed
at for losing them valuable XP. There's an ongoing wrangle over this
solo-friendly trend within MMOs, and one that I can see both sides
of. But for something as immersive as The Secret World, it feels more
appropriate than in many other games. Indeed, a strong argument could
be made that this would actually have made a much better solo or
co-op game than an MMO. If a similar non-MMO followup was made, I
would certainly snap it up without question.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So what do we have so far? Great world
and story-telling plus an intriguing mission system that just about
edges past the line of its own flaws to feel refreshing and engaging.
That pretty much leaves character building and combat. Which is where
we start to falter and wheeze, carrying the weight of more than a
decade of MMO convention.<br />
<br />
Much was made of the classless and
level-less system of character progression before release, but both
of these prove pretty much to be non-starters. A character progresses
via building of Skill and Ability points through an experience bar,
picking up chunks of the tasty XP stuff via killing nasties,
completing missions and gathering achievements and lore. This is
traditional levelling up without a number attached to it, which only
serves to confuse. Tagging missions with 'normal', 'hard' and 'very
hard' based on your current ability and skill levels is all well and
good, but it lacks nuance. If my invisible levels matter, I would
much rather know exactly where I stand and what is expected for
someone entering into a mission before I pick it up. Due to the
nature of the ability system, levelling certainly matters less than
in other MMOs – but it is still a big deal, and when something is a
big deal in a game I want it to be as clear and transparent as
possible.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8AKEmD3NACjQkhyEIBgPUCN9zyF27uOznKaXog6uIieiCTmyjupBapaWRnQx3SajpWzhITpdQL_dvlEAC4zPpOP4-bOsvkyo6fotnD7ncNak51IR6rG5BKoBL68WfUWqPC_qgB6JmXfo/s1600/Peaceline_picture001.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8AKEmD3NACjQkhyEIBgPUCN9zyF27uOznKaXog6uIieiCTmyjupBapaWRnQx3SajpWzhITpdQL_dvlEAC4zPpOP4-bOsvkyo6fotnD7ncNak51IR6rG5BKoBL68WfUWqPC_qgB6JmXfo/s400/Peaceline_picture001.png" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ability Wheel, in all its wheel-like glory. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Skills in The Secret World are possibly
the most futile and uninteresting character progression system I have
ever encountered, based primarily around very small incremental
increases to your damage and survivability while also allowing you to
equip better gear. Both are something that are just done for you upon
achieving another level in most MMOs, and here assigning them just
feels like dull busywork. Abilities are slightly better and come
loaded into an ability wheel that is divided down via a choice of
nine weapons (a mix of ranged and melee weapons and magic styles)
that your character can diversify into. At any one point you can
carry two weapons and thus utilise abilities from their wheel spokes,
but if you are prepared to do some switching around then your actual
ability choices are completely unlimited. Character decks are
provided for guidelines on how to build effective character builds,
but as pseudo-classes they remain open.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
At any one time you can have 7 active
abilities (i.e. combat attacks and buffs/heals) and 7 passive
abilities (augmenting combat attacks and buffs) out, though these can
again be switched at any time out of combat. All of this has the
potential to lead to a fantastic and versatile combat/grouping
system, but for several problems. The first is that the holy trinity
of tank, healer and DPS is still there in full force. You can branch
out into some element of crowd control or debuffer but the limited
number of abilities you can utilise at one time makes you a one- or
two-trick pony. Your role in a group (or your solo play technique)
will largely be defined by the abilities you choose to stack, and
while it is good that a player feels like they are defining their
build themselves it would be very easy to construct a broken
character or an ineffectual ability deck. This is easily remedied
through free restacking, but it still jars that value judgements have
to be made between abilities that on first glance appear broadly
similar.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I suppose that smacks of laziness, but
the abilities my primary character gained upon a few days of
progression really didn't seem all that different. I was just hitting
nasties with my hammer in a slightly different animation, with no
sense of change or power increase. A couple of abilities I had to
wade through on secondary spokes seemed actively worse than my
starting ones, and many others differed only in about 8 points worth
of damage per hit against foes running up to 4/3k in health points.
It was all a choice between hit 'em, hit 'em slightly harder and hit'
em less hard but get a protective buff for 8 seconds. That is even
less interesting to play than it is to read.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX67caA8kqAZE9U1ExI9tjKG8UPlrp-grw8jrwKzqBvkTK8DArLVrNvjNpU8l81C0U2uYsFwULwQLB4zRUswz1T9wFSVSI8C3zD6ck4IzTacRGtFJJGUGElSV7fa7UiozdGkgSsUSYabc/s1600/Peaceline_picture006.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX67caA8kqAZE9U1ExI9tjKG8UPlrp-grw8jrwKzqBvkTK8DArLVrNvjNpU8l81C0U2uYsFwULwQLB4zRUswz1T9wFSVSI8C3zD6ck4IzTacRGtFJJGUGElSV7fa7UiozdGkgSsUSYabc/s400/Peaceline_picture006.png" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smacking fish monsters with glowing magic mining picks - surprisingly dull.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
All this is exaggerated by the fact
that while it is obvious Funcom were going for a more action-based
combat than your average MMO (limited ability decks, dodgeable
telegraphed enemy attacks, chunky brightly-coloured ability icons),
in execution it provides a hell of a grind. It is a genre blend that others have attempted recently - DC Universe Online springs to mind - and it is most definitely yet to be perfected. The majority of mobs take
a good 30 seconds to a minute to bash through solo by rotating
between two or three attacks, and you inevitably find yourself
weaving around the ones you don't have to engage within an hour of
starting play. Given the effort that has gone into engaging the
player in the rest of the game, this is highly disappointing. On the
occasions when you fight a whole bunch of weaker opponents the combat
becomes much more acceptable – enemies go down faster, the usually
more visually impressive AOE damage abilities become appropriate and
the combat as a whole often resolves itself quicker. And considering
that the strengths of the game lie in exploration and atmosphere,
there are a hell of a lot of areas that are so swamped with mobs that
you stand no chance of strolling through them solo without a lot of
careful fighting or frustrating dying. <br />
<br />
Speaking of dying, are
we really still using the whole navigate-back-to-your-body-as-a-ghost
thing in 2012? Really, are we? Astonishing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There are various other bits and pieces
to round out the typical MMO roster of features, but from limited
play they don't seem to offer anything new. Item augmentation and
crafting, guilds (termed cabals here), achievements for killing 100
of a thing, limited PvP and suchlike. I'm fine with these things, but from what I
saw they don't rock my boat enough to go into any detail here. Gear is limited to talismans and weapons, and seems less numerous than in many similar games, with only 7 talisman slots at my character's paltry current level. Appearance is based on outfit rather than gear itself, which makes for a pleasant change and is appropriate to the setting. Information on gear, stats, how to pick up lovely new outfits and the wardrobe itself are both poorly explained by a help system that is by turns very useful and massively useless. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In addition, the build is still buggy
from launch. I encountered two in partiular more than once – the
tendency for a doorway or object spawn to simply no-show, thus
stalling you on a mission tier with no easily apparent option to quit
the whole mission and start again. Even when transplanting with a new
main mission and thus 'pausing' the bugged one, when unpausing I was
still stuck on the bugged tier. I am sure a workaround exists, but
given my limited time I simply moved on. In a way more frustrating is
the tendency for mini-bosses to dash off a short distance and reset
to full health, sometimes dependent on your moving outside a poorly
demarcated area and sometimes just seemingly at random. It is
somewhat churlish to complain about non-gamebreaking bugs in a game
as unbelievably complex as an MMO, but two months after launch these
are major items that should not be cropping up so frequently.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So that's my five days with The Secret
World, more or less. It is an odd and uneven gaming experience, but
also one with unique strengths for the genre. I suspect it'll be a
game that builds an extremely loyal and setting-obsessed fanbase (of
which I may well end up one, being a sucker for story and
atmosphere), especially if the less appealing quirks are smoothed out
via tweaks, expansions and a well-executed free-to-play system. That
might be optimistic, given the recent flurry of unhappy news
regarding its ongoing development from Funcom. Still, in these days
of photocopying Warcraft into different IPs, The Secret World is to
be applauded for providing something genuinely different. If you're
after a solo-friendly MMO that will spin a great yarn for you in a
brilliantly detailed environment, this may be for you. Although
ironically, given the focus on solo play, you might get the best out
of the game by duo-ing up with a friend. That way you can chew
through the endless mobs with due haste while arguing over which
ancient occult tome you have just Googled holds the clue to finding
the forbidden labyrinth of the fish-people. And I actually can't
imagine a better way to spend a Saturday night than that. </div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-44315109456521123312012-09-01T14:34:00.005+01:002014-01-29T10:33:24.403+00:00<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/a-week-called-bastard-episode-2-since.html">A Week Called Bastard – Episode 2</a></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Since there was general approval of the
first entry in this landmark series of bitterness and despair, the
powers that be at Bastard Towers have decided to make this a weekly
series. If this strikes you as inherently wrong or actually criminal,
please write to your MP/senator/feudal overlord.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It has been a funny old week
for the Republican party. <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/08/27/us-usa-campaign-rape-idUSBRE87Q18I20120827" target="_blank">Not only have they seemingly been trying to one-up each other over who can make the most inappropriate comments about rape</a>, but their National Convention turned out to make
headlines more for Clint Eastwood being out-debated by an empty chair
than anything said by Romney or his cohorts.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But the Republicans are easy
targets, when has The Bastard ever picked on easy targets? Well, all
the time. It really is a lot of fun. But crucially, <a href="http://botherer.org/2012/09/01/goodies-and-baddies-why-republicans-should-embrace-the-dark-side/" target="_blank">John Walker has already said what I wanted to say in a much more erudite manner than I could</a>.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So instead, let's pick on
some other rich white meat. You may not have heard of Gina Rinehart,
but she can buy you. And your family. And your family's close
personal friends and pets. She is the world's wealthiest woman, and a
couple of days ago she delivered some handy advice for those less
well-off than herself.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER">
<i>"If you're jealous of those with more money,
don't just sit there and complain... Do something to make more money
yourself - spend less time drinking or smoking and socialising, and
more time working... There is no monopoly on becoming a millionaire."</i></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT">
That's right, you filthy proles. The reason you're poor
is because all your money goes into your revolting habits, or into
having friends. If only you'd put your nose to the grindstone you'd
make enough money to dictate ludicrous opinions to the public and be
the victim of mockery on isolated monkey blogs like this one. It was
Gina's hard work that got her where she was today. If by 'hard work'
we mean 'being born the heir to an Australian mining magnate'. But
let's not do down that achievement in and of itself.</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT">
Think of the strain and pure graft involved in Gina's
hard-won race as a sperm, grinding its way relentlessly toward her
mother's precious egg as Lang Hancock grunted and thrust his hips –
the sweat on his brow unconsciously echoing the sweat on the brows of
workers worldwide, all of whom were united in saluting this tribute
to their labours.</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT">
If The Bastard were a lazy writer, he might ignore this
obvious humourous parallel to the working classes and instead comment
on the basic misunderstanding of capitalism that is inherent in the
claim that anyone can become a millionaire. Or perhaps point out the
utter vapidity Gina displayed upon blaming “socialist” policies
for the gap between rich and poor. Those scheming socialists, always
looking to line the pockets of the rich. And if The Bastard were
gratuitously offensive as well as lazy, he might also state that
someone who looks like Gina might want to keep their nose out of social
policy, lest their influence bring about criminal punishment via
carbonite freezing and excessive public consumption of weird
frog-things from steaming water bowls.
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXdxD_iqePDDbvkumN5YgOUn1TaXYAvwdN_HvjuAPy8xv64tR-hgjm7piFzlOojPbUchY4Fw6mex3ayJsGMR-Sj4CiaYrMJlLqedauvSBRfFWt7R8jzTz6TqqHJPnTgtvFwt5iayt1dA/s1600/la-fi-mo-richest-woman-20120830-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXdxD_iqePDDbvkumN5YgOUn1TaXYAvwdN_HvjuAPy8xv64tR-hgjm7piFzlOojPbUchY4Fw6mex3ayJsGMR-Sj4CiaYrMJlLqedauvSBRfFWt7R8jzTz6TqqHJPnTgtvFwt5iayt1dA/s400/la-fi-mo-richest-woman-20120830-001.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT">
Otherwise she might be the first into the Sarlacc pit
when the revolution comes.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It wasn't too long after the
last AWCB was posted that the world learned of the death of Neil
Armstrong, the first human to set foot on a celestial body other than
our own planet. This seemed particularly poignant given the rush of
information flowing to us from the Curiosity rover, trundling over
the surface of Mars since August 6<sup>th</sup> of this year.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Now, I'm sure you'll forgive
me if I turn off the funny for a bit. Would you kindly watch
this video. It won't take you long. </div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/gZX5GRPnd4U?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<br />
Back? Ok. Now. That is footage
so awesome that it actually makes me feel weird. My stomach turns, I
go light-headed, I genuinely tear up. Video of something we have
created landing on another planet. It's so beyond all of my
experiences. And yours. And every other person on Earth. It is far,
far more important than anything you or I will ever do with our
lives.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And the craziest thing about
it is that so many of us will glance at it and go "Meh,
whatever." News regarding the Curiosity rover is humming by
quietly under the radar. Sure, it pops up on TV or in the newspapers
now and then if something deemed significant happens. But if humanity
had any sense of perspective whatsoever this would be front page,
headline news every single day and everyone would be watching it
while screaming in inarticulate joy over what we have accomplished.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Newsreaders should be
weeping with ecstasy as they describe how we have defied the very
laws of physics in order to transmit images of an alien world back to
a bunch of gibbering apes who somehow managed to get a functional
machine to a planet that is an average of 225 million kilometres
away. And we have done this successfully four times. FOUR TIMES.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Watch the footage linked
earlier and celebrate. It is mankind landing on another planet. It is
science-fiction made flesh. The future is now – we are living it,
aimlessly unaware in a parade of celebrity gossip websites and
reality TV atrocities. But as you celebrate, you also need to mourn.
Not only for the loss of Neil Armstrong, a man who reputedly would
tell awful jokes about his voyage to the Moon and follow the awkward
laughter with an offhand “Well, I guess you had to be there.”,
but for the loss of wonder and ambition in the human race over the
last 40 years. Sure, we have problems here we need to fix. Whole
heaps of them. Our own house needs to be set into order before we can
go traipsing around the solar system with abandon. But surely, if
there were one thing that could focus our efforts on a single unified
point, it would be exploration beyond our own planet. It is the last
great adventure, and the notion that it is one that humanity will
embark upon seems to be slowly becoming one of <em><span style="font-style: normal;">naïveté</span></em>
and futile grasping at straws.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“<i>It suddenly struck
me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my
thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I
didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.”</i></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i> - Neil
Armstrong</i></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * *
* *</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I have a habit of saying
stupid, bizarre or callous things on an almost daily basis. Sometimes
these observations hurt no one, but occasionally they are leapt upon
as an example of how I am an awful human being.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Example. Earlier this week I
attempted to hold court on how I am appreciative of the ability to
spell words properly, going so far as to suggest that I may run for
power on a platform of criminalising text speak outside of texts and
extra apostrophes on signs. Only in Britain, naturally. We might be
the only country capable of ignoring moral principles for abstract
grammatical values on a day-to-day basis. But in the end I struggled
to find a bleeding-heart liberal way I could say that I think that
people who can't spell should be slaughtered like pigs.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I know, right? You'd think
that would fit right into Guardian columnist rhetoric. I should
clarify that I don't think I'm better than people who can't spell,
per se. I just think they're utter failures as human beings and
should be isolated or destroyed to avoid contaminating the rest of
us. In the New Spelling Republic, terror would come by night to drag
ppl screaming from theyre homes as illiterate sign-writers swung from
lamp-posts nearby. Kaputtegrammatiknacht.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I should point out that
dyslexics and people with similar learning disabilities would get
pardons, and just have to be put into special camps or something. I'm
not a monster, after all!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEODNbb1vkJmBfmtV-Ynqw841iRY6glNpZ9WYZMEHqhd1XXr-cCt6GUi-jpaPpGSWC1XXGngTn5jj2tV-fpYRXmoCkK91dB_iYWH7B6Zb1AUlG-TxR_cKTJLN6IZdwuPZ_Sggmm_mpAMw/s1600/GoethBalcony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEODNbb1vkJmBfmtV-Ynqw841iRY6glNpZ9WYZMEHqhd1XXr-cCt6GUi-jpaPpGSWC1XXGngTn5jj2tV-fpYRXmoCkK91dB_iYWH7B6Zb1AUlG-TxR_cKTJLN6IZdwuPZ_Sggmm_mpAMw/s320/GoethBalcony.jpg" height="229" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sadly, this moderate and
well-thought out political treatise incurred some ire. Several hours
later, I realised that in reference to this someone I don't know had
referred to me as a “bored middle class special snowflake”.
Embarrassingly, this was after I had already replied to him with a
good-natured but badly-worded pun about a lawnmower that could write
novels. I felt that to follow it up with a late rejoinder would not
only be futile but also a denial of the basic facts:</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<ol>
<li><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>I am bored.</b></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
- This week I went through
my junk email in an effort to amuse myself with randomly generated
titles. I was delighted to discover that Anne Hathaway wanted to
meet up for a 'garter strip fuck'. I have replied, but so far
nothing. Fully expecting to be able to write a piece for next week's
episode on my sexually deviant experiences with Catwoman.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
</li>
<li><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>I am middle class.
</b></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
- Shortly after my brutal
and uncalled-for tirade against the grammatically-challenged, I
complained on various social media sites about how many bowlfuls of
muesli I got out of a box vs. how many were advertised as being in
said box. Even typing that I can feel my hair tightening into a rich
boy 'fro and my name transmogrifying into Rory spelled Ruiraigh.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
</li>
<li><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>And I am definitely a
fucking special snowflake.</b></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
- No argument required
here.</div>
</li>
</ol>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.87cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My only real defence against
this is that my spiteful hatred of pretty much everything is incurred
entirely from other people acting even more appallingly than I do.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Last night, as I walked home
from the corner shop I was privileged enough to be accompanied on my
road by a couple of lads who were performing extremely loud shrieks
in an effort to do “an impression of a girl being raped”. They
are another fucking species. I swear, they must be. I am physically
uncomfortable sharing their DNA.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
These moments are almost
always poetically timed to run alongside personal ruminations that I
should tone down my misanthropy. So thankyou, grotesquely abhorrent
chaps. You have played a part in restoring my lack of faith in
humanity, which in turn will keep my writing as vibrant and
bile-driven as ever.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As mentioned above, I am
bored. A lot of the time. This is partly to do with my current state
of employment (that is to say, none), but also to do with the
ineffable air of jaded cool I willingly radiate at all times.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It is difficult to keep
entertained when unemployed – there is only so long one can get
laughs from saying things like DESPAIR and FUTILITY over and over
again in a dull monotone to a series of blank, empty walls. That's
more of a social activity, anyway.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3HXqkQJ5I5N6bM7PWH68eRY3l1SXRV-JEVHP0hmGTEs9aI0MtwvmYrDcTYaD6LJMbxOtvT1OsPJhtUIPQwZOEslqPfFepORzbqRdm4LcaxtBYtqiv7w3sLAjK3ugzJ2cCsrRhpdeENo8/s1600/clichesocialize.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3HXqkQJ5I5N6bM7PWH68eRY3l1SXRV-JEVHP0hmGTEs9aI0MtwvmYrDcTYaD6LJMbxOtvT1OsPJhtUIPQwZOEslqPfFepORzbqRdm4LcaxtBYtqiv7w3sLAjK3ugzJ2cCsrRhpdeENo8/s320/clichesocialize.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So to liven up the dullness
of another day spent at home writing half-truths on job application
forms and telling my cat that with great meowing comes great
responsibility, I fell down my stairs. I didn't plan to do so, you
understand. If I had then I'd have spent the summer at Edinburgh
Fringe with a unique and painful form of performance art. Awards and
late-night BBC3 comedy specials would lay glittering in my future.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There wasn't even any
preamble. I was walking down the stairs, then I was suddenly on my
arse bouncing down. I didn't black out or anything exciting like
that. It was like a glitch in The Matrix, and also The Matrix hates
me. If nothing else, it gave me the brand new emotion of experiencing
embarrassment despite there being no one else there to point and
laugh. An odd existential shame. First I was born into a hateful,
uncaring world. And now this. This torment. There is no God. But if
there was, He would be standing over my prone, sore form saying “What
a PRICK.” and making politically incorrect belming noises.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I was effectively hobbled
for about 24 hours with a nagging pain in one foot that left me
unable to do any of the things I never do anyway. And since I
listened to some Limp Bizkit of my own free will yesterday, I'm
fairly sure I suffered some minor head trauma. The whole experience
did jar me enough that shortly afterwards I mistakenly picked up
bathroom surface cleaner instead of mouthwash. Realising my mistake
before ingesting it may have itself have been an error, since at
least with the former I could have had an exciting afternoon at the
hospital.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It also led to the discovery
that my phone will repeatedly auto-correct 'limp' to 'limo', which
speaks volumes of the disconnect between my fetid existence and the
hip media lifestyle my iPhone thinks I have.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Out-of-context Bastard
Quote Of The Week</b></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“<i>New-wave
dogsploitation to the max.”</i></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-40307959632926907922012-08-25T15:20:00.001+01:002014-01-29T10:33:34.082+00:00<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/a-week-called-bastard-episode-1-so-its.html">A Week Called Bastard – Episode 1</a></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So, it's time to experiment with a new
weekly blog/commentary style writing format. Snippets of personal and
newsworthy observations, compiled in my own inimitable style of verve
and bitter misanthropy. This springs from two main driving factors –
a lack of funds to buy new reviewable media and a desire to fill your
screens with the kind of fetid nonsense I ramble about on social
networking sites. I am anticipating either total disinterest or rabid
internet applause followed by a promising career in slagging everyone
and everything off professionally. Reviews and other articles will
continue to appear when resources allow. But let's see how this goes,
Bastard-fans! Feedback, as always, appeciated.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The only thing worse than howling into
the void on Twitter, as most people below the rank of Z-list
celebrity are, is when your despairing cries are picked up by
undesirables. As the spambots slowly become more discriminating and
build towards inevitable horrifying sentience, the issue of whether a
random question addressed to you is from a pile of recursive code or
an idiot human being is a troubling one. Often I have to actually hop
onto their profile to determine whether I should report them, block
them or abuse them. The more advanced 'bots are now typically filling
their feed with a mixture of randomly generic Twitter posts of the
“OMG I went out & got so drunk you guys LOL” variety,
semi-relevant links to currently trending internet memes and the
actual purposeful targeted links through to whatever awful spam they
have been constructed to promote in the first place.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Worryingly, this random compilation is
perilously close to what your average Twitter user posts. As much as
six months ago I had no problems whatsoever distinguishing between a
cretin and a spambot, but more and more I find myself agonising over
my choice of social antagonism. It is not so much the humanlike
behaviour of 'bots that worries me, as the 'botlike behaviour of what
are nominally members of my own species. Social media hipsters are
the accursed bastard hybrid of mindless microblog fucktard tedium,
meme-inspired humour nothingness and unwitting advertising billboard
vacuity. Perhaps it is time the spam-constructing supervillains of
the world plugged them directly into service. Racks of human servers
with bad haircuts and dubstep-infected iPods twitching in the
softly-lit darkness as they notice someone referencing a trendy dead
celebrity who desperately needs to know how to mourn them via a
specialised trendy dead celebrity mourning product, designed by a
sub-Apple new media clown with an amazing newbuild office overlooking
San Francisco bay.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeY64q3aqZWQBlRA4oQnHzwVETenrimeDhMmky44YPy2IeRQ_CmrPvtu5HfEUMTxwA-yZ3BjaovKFTOvZZNhi9LuVUvwn5K5J025nLq8EvSesvEONZEiYK11g_qBXk3eYpxpMx56Q6BE/s1600/twitter-bird-white-on-blue.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeY64q3aqZWQBlRA4oQnHzwVETenrimeDhMmky44YPy2IeRQ_CmrPvtu5HfEUMTxwA-yZ3BjaovKFTOvZZNhi9LuVUvwn5K5J025nLq8EvSesvEONZEiYK11g_qBXk3eYpxpMx56Q6BE/s1600/twitter-bird-white-on-blue.png" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Still, in the glowing online paradise
that is 2012 it's not only advertising code that flings unwanted
attention my way. There is a growing tendency for employers to
recruit social media specialists to not only promote their
company/agency/party but also participate in sometimes-relevant
online discussions as and where they find them. I'm not slamming this
in and of itself – some of my friends make a living off it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But one can't help but feel that it is
getting out of hand when receiving a targeted message enquiring about
the current conversation from a BNP social media expert when
referring to the red M&M from the tedious television advertising
campaign as a “racist cannibal mass murdering BNP voter and
Holocaust denier”. I am delighted to know that I live in a world
where proposing that a sentient hard shelled chocolate treat is a
fascist monster receives a tentative c<em><span style="font-style: normal;">ommuniqué</span></em>
from a group of real-life fascist wannabes. However, I am
disheartened that the cretins exist in the first place, and that they
have decided that Twitter is an excellent vector for their message of
national pride and reactionary race hatred. So I suppose it balances
out in the end.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Oh, Todd Akin. You so crazy.
Striking me dumb is an impressive achievement, but when you make
comments like the following then there's not much in the way of a
punchline that can be delivered:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>“Well you know, people
always want to try to make that as one of those things, well how do
you, how do you slice this particularly tough sort of ethical
question. First of all, from what I understand from doctors, that’s
really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to
try to shut that whole thing down. But let’s assume that maybe that
didn’t work or something. I think there should be some punishment,
but the punishment ought to be on the rapist and not attacking the
child.”</i></div>
<br />
I mean, he's already done my job for me. It's one
long punchline at the expense of the entire human race. Millennia of
scientific and social progress, gunned down with relish by this man
being an elected representative of one of the most powerful nations
on the planet. Ha! Ha! HAHAHAHA.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_tg5xA5LRYPz2oAY9HRVwVpvyPTq57p4y8woUtw6hy_vE5_GROjqfeUPCKH8km_pqk1T1cuanqw6Jga_vJS3ujY6J2x0bLBBttIo3465ZgOqn-LYmBk5hd9_7oy83b5kH5-W2yamxYg/s1600/todd-akin-borowitz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_tg5xA5LRYPz2oAY9HRVwVpvyPTq57p4y8woUtw6hy_vE5_GROjqfeUPCKH8km_pqk1T1cuanqw6Jga_vJS3ujY6J2x0bLBBttIo3465ZgOqn-LYmBk5hd9_7oy83b5kH5-W2yamxYg/s320/todd-akin-borowitz.jpg" height="247" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My favourite bit is “But
let’s assume that maybe that didn’t work or something.” Yes.
Let's throw those awkward facts and millions of horrifically offended
rape victims, biologists and empathetic human beings a bone, just to
satiate the loony left. Let's just assume, for a moment, that women
don't have magical rape defence powers, or that they misfired on one
tragic occasion. Let us throw ourselves into that fantasy for a
moment. What an awful world that would be, where people are forced
into impossible choices by the immoral acts of others. How lucky we
are not to live in that world, and to instead live a life of
privilege, prep schools and rich white guy politics that makes
impossible choices easy for us.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Coincidentally, another
example of an impossible choice due to an immoral act might be
backstreet abortions vs. unwanted pregnancy, because of anti-abortion
legislation proposed by people seemingly incapable of divorcing
blustering intangible rhetoric from real-life facts.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
However, the actual issue
here is that because of all the trauma around the use of the term
'legitimate rape' throughout the week, I felt that I had to change an
observation that a shop-window display looked like 'patriotic rape
ninjas' into 'patriotic molestation ninjas'. Which doesn't trip off
the tongue nearly as well, and is the true tragedy resulting from
Akin's bizarre ramblings. Damn you, Akin. Goddamn you.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I thought I had unlocked a
terrifying thought for my generational peers when realising that the
prevalence of retro '90s nights for students (the current batch
having been born around 1994) means that we are probably only a
couple of years away from seeing badly photocopied posters for retro
noughties nights. Noughties? 00's? It can't be retro naughties
nights, that is something else entirely - afro wigs, parachute
pants, Friends haircuts and carkeys in a bowl on the table.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFy7DTBEJ-F-P1w1wX73TY7cBq0UEA8mgWXncYuMO_PBsebbIeqOo4fmBUpYt0QSlx4oGyJR6eKiYkCsUGeMl4aWYNhoNudUoi8uq9zOtKPPe3krB1c0Dkwo46gnmHSmaCOBb69yYcok/s1600/friends1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFy7DTBEJ-F-P1w1wX73TY7cBq0UEA8mgWXncYuMO_PBsebbIeqOo4fmBUpYt0QSlx4oGyJR6eKiYkCsUGeMl4aWYNhoNudUoi8uq9zOtKPPe3krB1c0Dkwo46gnmHSmaCOBb69yYcok/s400/friends1.jpg" height="292" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Imagine my horror when
informed that such nights already exist in London. Age-based angst
and Northern Outrage (a condition best typified by the phrase “Well,
they would have that in that there London”) aplenty. It's a clear
sign of escalation. I fully expect that by 2015 there will be retro
nights exploring the amazing and timeless music of December 2014,
which if pop chart escalation also accelerates will just be the sound
of Simon Cowell vomiting into a glitter-festooned bucket.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In my private life I like to
fantasise about random strangers being truly awful to me, so I can
complain about them later to my friends. It makes for a rich inner
life. But inevitably such fantasies come to an end when I either
realise that this would make me an even worse person, or when a
random stranger is merely bizarre or pathetic rather than awful. So
thankyou, creepy 10am drunk, for knocking sense into me with your
rolled-up newspaper inbetween repeated statements that it is a nice
morning. You live your hideous sham of a life so that my own hideous
sham might become slightly more genuine.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
These individuals, though
they don't know it, are fodder for people like me attempting to amuse
others through the medium of self-indulgent hyperbolic bloggery. Even
an exhausting trip back from the vet whilst carrying an overweight
cat in a huge box designed for dogs becomes worthwhile when
confronted with unexpected enquiries from a young woman standing in
the doorway of her house, seemingly unaware of the small boy stood
next to her and masturbating leisurely while gazing at said cat.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I'm not sure what part of
this unsettled me the most. Answering queries about the health of my
beloved pet while confronted with such an unfamiliar scenario? The
growing painful ache in my arms impeding my usual unflappable social
veneer? That the young woman was obviously so used to her child
masturbating in public that it no longer registered? Or the sheer
inappropriate and un-British nature of the very concept of public
masturbation? I decided later that it definitely wasn't the latter,
since I wouldn't have been unduly shaken if the young woman had been
the one blithely playing with herself in front of me. Though given
the presence of the boy, I might have questioned her parenting
techniques.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The irony in the situation
is that though children publicly masturbating is indeed somewhat
un-British, I felt compelled to stay and answer a number of questions
in this situation purely from my British sense of unquestioning
politeness. And afterwards, my main concern about the incident was
that since I had effectively placed a cat in front of a masturbating
child I may have inadvertently provoked him to become a furry in
later life. As the chaos theoreticians tell us – in Tokyo a
butterfly flaps its wings, and years later a masturbating child in
York posts LiveJournal images of himself as Swift-tail The Fox while
dry humping accountants in badger costumes.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqj6W8_MKzEONLNKjhRoOTpaDlsWm0rGLRqnMrUF-CDd8oalf23vaT-4fDvZhZJMDOUGC5IZmtr8uRzbRLaLEpG8xDOuE_YhMAJ0OKx9PqWGnwvhKN7jGRXGJqyN2_A1lhu1wD4J7Nnos/s1600/Fox-furries-28930224-700-1030.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqj6W8_MKzEONLNKjhRoOTpaDlsWm0rGLRqnMrUF-CDd8oalf23vaT-4fDvZhZJMDOUGC5IZmtr8uRzbRLaLEpG8xDOuE_YhMAJ0OKx9PqWGnwvhKN7jGRXGJqyN2_A1lhu1wD4J7Nnos/s320/Fox-furries-28930224-700-1030.png" height="320" width="217" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
* * * * *</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Right, so the Prince Harry
naked photos. Let's get the obvious out of the way first. They are
flung round the world by mostly American media sites and news
agencies, resulting in a raging (but also fairly dull) debate within
the UK over whether UK-based newspapers and other parasites should
publish them. Finally, The Sun decides to do so with squeaking claims
that since they're already available online, there's no point in not
doing so – and furthermore, it's their journalistic responsibility
to do so since there's public interest.<br />
<br />
If they're already
available online, there is no point in publishing them either.
They're already there. People can see them if they want them. In
publishing them you are giving your public nothing new, just
wallowing in dirt like the filthy dogs you are. Well done.<br />
<br />
You
have a journalistic responsibility to report news, not to give the
public what you think they want – which usually translates as
whatever will sell the most units. Though in all honesty, I don't
know why I even bother writing this. The most cursory correlation of
UK tabloids against the concept of 'journalistic responsibility'
would drive the average discerning human into paroxysms of
uncontrollable laughter that would only relent when the lungs finally
collapsed, sucking the diaphragm inwards in a splintering bloody
implosion that could only come as blessed sweet release. We are,
apparently, lucky to live in a world where newspapers like The Sun
are pioneers in the crusade for our moral right to see some rich
twat's bum.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Besides, this is ignoring
the real problem with the photos. They were apparently taken while
P-Harry and assorted guffawing chums were playing strip billiards.
Strip. Billiards. BILLIARDS. Fucking billiards. Fuck me. Christ.
Billiards.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Fucking STRIP BILLIARDS.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I can't communicate in mere
words how much hypocritical class-driven rage that concept grants me.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A personal message from me
to Mr P. Harry follows.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxL2VNt9BDhG4MH2fbSyxPcEnpOVL-wZFkriOyy4pLmhzlRtwfYwqDhw11ZX-1HqQKOX5BHRYLERfZkFlZ3lGNkXHqtafbUPns0pNHbaYLTYBk2tbk362VZclTI_eFNfYk-mpIFP7ftQE/s1600/PHarry+Bastard+Letter.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxL2VNt9BDhG4MH2fbSyxPcEnpOVL-wZFkriOyy4pLmhzlRtwfYwqDhw11ZX-1HqQKOX5BHRYLERfZkFlZ3lGNkXHqtafbUPns0pNHbaYLTYBk2tbk362VZclTI_eFNfYk-mpIFP7ftQE/s640/PHarry+Bastard+Letter.png" height="523" width="640" /></a></div>
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Let's end this futile
charade of blogging experimentation with some things I learned from
the erudite and learned master than is television last night. There
was a show narrated by Idris Elba (who is a DJ, apparently – the
glory of bit-parts in shit overrated sci-fi like Prometheus is
thankfully a second career) entitled How Clubbing Changed The World,
consisting of a compilation of voted-for-by-the-idiot-public ways in
which, er, clubbing changed the world. I gained these gems of
infinite knowledge:<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> I can pretty much listen to 'Blind
Faith' by Chase & Status on repeat forever. The functioning
non-lizard half of my brain tells me it was probably only featured in
the show once, but I likely replaced any music I didn't approve of
with it – especially since the entire visual aesthetic was
basically a version of the video spun out for hours.</div>
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<b>2.</b> Idris Elba seems much
cooler when he is an extradimensional Norse deity. To be fair, this
probably applies to everyone.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzuQQprp9Qo-GGCgWqRM47AOPJ2-F50Jr6xRASHzGmGZS0-RARc1pYLYeFLMrpt-1WwqjegvWXV26mbqiCgBdwySqki6wiq8CDROpK3T8MjTkQdHwIw5bD_6bNnCYa97EYS890De0CWA/s1600/HEIMDALL_elba_051111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzuQQprp9Qo-GGCgWqRM47AOPJ2-F50Jr6xRASHzGmGZS0-RARc1pYLYeFLMrpt-1WwqjegvWXV26mbqiCgBdwySqki6wiq8CDROpK3T8MjTkQdHwIw5bD_6bNnCYa97EYS890De0CWA/s400/HEIMDALL_elba_051111.jpg" height="200" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>3.</b> I really wasted my time
being a nerd in the '90s. I should have been out at clubs and raves
and Ibiza and bangin' choons and shit like that. I feel like I missed
out on an Experience, or at the very least on meeting lots of women
with low standards and vast quantities of mind-altering substances.</div>
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<b>4.</b> Daft Punk seem to be
viewed as true musical visionaries. I always thought of them as
annoying squelchy bleep twats in futuristic motorcycle helmets. Huh.
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<b>5. </b>Lots of burnt-out DJs
seem to think that ecstasy has created a utopian classless society in
the UK. It is possible that taking so much E has melted their brains
to the point where everything they now experience is like a constant
loop of D:Ream playing along to Tony Blair's disembodied smiling
face, glowing a soft soothing yellow and tossing them the occasional
cheeky wink or seductive lick of the lips. For evidence that the UK
is not a classless society, please observe the widening statistical
gap between rich and poor and also the concept of FUCKING STRIP
BILLIARDS.</div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-22238404006486694282012-07-21T16:00:00.001+01:002014-01-29T10:33:53.218+00:00<a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/movie-review-dark-knight-rises-well.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Movie Review: The Dark Knight Rises</span></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfDwMh6BLFQlR5jMRhSR7FqGoBV5j7sbGJTm_lpLHHrnjzOdhu7biOueFQ1aDJfMF3fJplroOcY0dBasfmXK9u5yCZf7peYkHhpyNW5OWL7sGZSJbn5Rwol_i-D5pzN1l1a3IUY6p_Bc/s1600/D9FEC6746109D608F4732E72FD4F3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfDwMh6BLFQlR5jMRhSR7FqGoBV5j7sbGJTm_lpLHHrnjzOdhu7biOueFQ1aDJfMF3fJplroOcY0dBasfmXK9u5yCZf7peYkHhpyNW5OWL7sGZSJbn5Rwol_i-D5pzN1l1a3IUY6p_Bc/s320/D9FEC6746109D608F4732E72FD4F3.jpg" height="320" width="296" /></a>Well, this is going to be an interesting review to write.
These days most movies come packaged in an excitingly huge and shiny cardboard
box made of reconstituted hype and nonsense, but it’s rare for genuine
expectation to find itself saddled to a blockbuster superhero flick. Everyone
is usually too jaded, too flooded with media and too brutalised by box office turds
to set their expectations very high even when all the signs are positive. That’s
why no one was particularly surprised when the likes of Prometheus or Avatar
hit home with very mixed receptions. Disappointing is the new black, and as an
audience our current default setting is one of post-modern cynicism.<br />
<br />
The Dark Knight Rises hype machine beat all that off with a nail-studded stick.
I don’t know anyone who was intending to see this at the cinema that wasn’t
looking forward to it with a feverish enthusiasm bordering on fanaticism.
Admittedly, I know a lot of nerds. But I maintain that the general feeling was
that this was going to be something special, a superhero movie that stood a
chance of eclipsing its predecessors and wrapping the Nolan Batman trilogy into
a neat little best-ever-cape-series package.<br />
<br />
Well, it has done the latter. There’s no disputing that between them, these
three films summarise the story of Batman into an extremely satisfying tale with multiple distinct character arcs,
loaded with subtext and imagery that make them some of the only movies capable
of hitting the brain as hard as they hit the guts. In many ways The Dark Knight
Rises is closer to a sequel to Batman Begins that the second film was – it carries
over a lot of similar themes, as well as offering a continuation of that
original narrative that I will desperately try not to spoilerise within this
review. <br />
<br />
What it has not done is step up the trilogy’s game. Now, should that be a
criticism? Honestly, I don’t know. But when the second film in a series aces
the first (which was already pretty firmly the best film of its genre ever made),
one can’t help but feel some mild disappointment when the third film pulls back
to quality of Batman Begins. Is The Dark Knight Rises good? Undoubtedly. Is it
worth seeing, and worthy of being the conclusion of the Christian Bale as
Batman saga? Oh yes. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But if what follows seems to have an excess of negative spin
on it, now you know why.<br />
<br />
We return to Gotham eight years after the devastating events of The Dark
Knight, and immediately are thrown into an environment both familiar and alien.
This is the Gotham and the characters we have seen before, but swaddled in
inertia and neutered by past decisions. This inertia spills out onto the
screen, to the point where the film feels like it takes a good hour to get up
and running. It’s definitely a slow burn rather than an immediate cackling
blaze of fury – albeit a slow burn that eventually rolls into an intensity that
is as uncomfortable as it is adrenalising.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As with the previous films (and most of Nolan’s work in
general), the ensemble performances are off the chart for something which is
nominally a summer blockbuster. More than ever before, Bale’s Batman shines as
a man broken into the shape of fear and justice by events beyond his control.
Tom Hardy proves to be an inspired choice for Bane, an immediate fusion of
cerebral and physical intimidation whose cold and clinical voice terrifies
without ever raising itself above a barely-audible mechanical whisper. Anne
Hathaway is also surprisingly effective as Selina Kyle (the name ‘Catwoman’
never actually escaping past anyone’s lips), languidly providing the
manipulative not-quite-amoral slink that is required for the role. And it’s
difficult to over-exaggerate just how refreshing it is to see a portrayal of
the character outside the seminal 1990’s animated series who isn’t just defined
by her sexual overtones. Into both , the writers have introduced a 99%-er
sensibility that makes it difficult not to agree with their aims, even when
decrying their methods.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The mostly unsung heroes of the trilogy have, however,
always been Michael Caine’s Alfred and Gary Oldman’s Jim Gordon. Both continue
to turn in powerful and subtle performances, though Oldman has much less to do
in Dark Knight Rises than he has previously. Alfred, on the other hand, proves
to be the furiously beating emotional heart of this final third. It makes for
less of the easy humour and comradely banter that marked the relationship
between Wayne and his primary father figure before, but leads to some genuinely
devastating emotional moments. This will be the only superhero film of the year
you might shed a tear for.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cast aside, Dark Knight Rises runs a genuine risk of losing
its way on several occasions through the lengthy running time. Incorporating
multiple character threads throughout (though unlike The Dark Knight, always
keeping Batman front and centre), sometimes these people seem to be revolving
around each other rather than genuinely connecting. That isn’t the case across
the board, and it’s not enough that you fail to care about them at all. But as
an example, try as I might I couldn’t build up much empathy for new guy Joseph
Gordon-Levitt’s earnest cop. As the film strolled onward, this left me in an
awkward half-engaged posture due to the eventual importance of the role he
plays. These are good characters in bad situations but often there’s just
nothing to hook me in within this part of the trilogy. That’s less important
for the characters who have jumped aboard two films ago, but when Nolan puts
the onus on the newbies (of which there are quite a few), the ground just doesn’t
seem solid. Perhaps it’s because almost everything within the film is a
gamechanger.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It really, really is.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If Batman Begins was the taut origin story and The Dark
Knight was the Heat-style hero vs. villain character study, then The Dark
Knight Rises is the epic disaster movie. There is awe here with a capital A.
Certain setpieces will make your jaw drop and your heart race, no two ways
about it. This can partly be laid at the door of the cinematography, which is
superb. Every single shot has been crisply assembled to be pitched at the
audience in just the right way to deliver. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But when so much sweeping change is thrown at you right off
the bat, it’s hard to keep up. You have no time to become invested into a
status quo before it is twisted and turned around. Said twists are never illogical
Shyamalan-style cheats, but there is an over-reliance on MacGuffins and
flinging the surprises/dramatic changes at you faster than a speeding bullet. How’s
that for crossover DC referencing, folks?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Speaking of DC referencing – if you are a comic book geek
like me, there is much here to love. In the same way that Ledger’s Joker
unconsciously took elements of most of the Clown Prince Of Crime’s portrayals
from the last 30 or so years and melded them together into a horrifically
joyous whole, Nolan rams picture-perfect versions of Catwoman and Bane onto the
screen for your enjoyment. It’s especially satisfying given they’ve been done
so very, very wrong before now. And if you are familiar with the definitive
Batman/Bane story arc from the latter’s first appearances, a confrontation
halfway through will be extremely gratifying. That’s veering dangerously close
to spoiler right there. But only if you’re a massive Batman nerd, in which case
you’ve probably already seen it. So that’s ok.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This has rambled on too long already.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, The Dark Knight Rises. Has it arrived like a swooping
bat-shaped thing from the darkness to save us from the generic bilge that
infests the summer blockbuster release schedule? Yes. Has it upped the ante
from the superb dynamics of The Dark Knight and set the bar still higher for
the trilogy’s swansong? Not really, no. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Does that actually matter? Mileage may vary. For me, no. The
Batman trilogy created by Nolan & co. is best viewed as one coherent whole,
and as a conclusion to that whole this film does the job – and does it very
well. It is a film that makes you feel and think and want to punch bad guys all
at the same time, while wrapped comfortably around themes that capture the
public zeitgeist with an almost impossibly casual ease. Any disappointment I
had while walking out of the cinema felt like it was essentially my fault for
being a curmudgeonly overanalysing prick. When that’s internalised rather than
being shouted at me by other people, it must be a sign of something. If this
third part of Nolan’s Batman feels to me like a weak link in the chain when
viewed in isolation, it is still one that makes the chain stronger.<o:p></o:p></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-84364475449287944482012-06-03T10:24:00.000+01:002014-01-29T10:34:23.542+00:00<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/movie-review-prometheus-unusually.html">Movie Review: Prometheus</a></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPMWlfNMft85xXdoSEPf1AKMMsH1u4BwuSqfUxYLXAm8xmLuS589l2UaRlIxEmoDAcgc9hTcbgqKyGa6klHRcAtUYq1P-RXSwYVG52JhPMreOITl9trvro5SYHd7HgOTwSdRWrg2dNUg/s1600/Prometheus-movie-review-Ridley-Scott.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPMWlfNMft85xXdoSEPf1AKMMsH1u4BwuSqfUxYLXAm8xmLuS589l2UaRlIxEmoDAcgc9hTcbgqKyGa6klHRcAtUYq1P-RXSwYVG52JhPMreOITl9trvro5SYHd7HgOTwSdRWrg2dNUg/s400/Prometheus-movie-review-Ridley-Scott.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a>Unusually, the internet seems to have been somewhat coy about Prometheus in terms of spoilers. The trailers and previews were castigated for giving away too much plot, too many setpieces, too much of Noomi Rapace's perma-shocked expression.<br />
<br />
In a token effort to honour that, I will try to keep this as spoiler-free as possible. But that's going to be difficult,because trying to explain why something is an absolute unholy mess the first thing you need is precise examples.<br />
<br />
And Prometheus is a mess. Oh, it really is.<br />
<br />
So. A pick n' mix team of scientists, space pilot types and corporate manipulators go on a three year voyage to a distant moon in order to meet some mysterious aliens they think are potentially responsible for creating life on Earth. Or just humans. It's not too specific, really. They get there, mild disaster ensues, things happen in a randomly selected order. The whole thing is a sort-of-prequel to the Alien franchise, inasmuch as it is supposedly set a fair way before it and has events tangentally linked to the first discovery of the xenomorph by the crew of the Nostromo.<br />
<br />
CGI is thrown at the viewer with enthusiasm, in an unsurprising move for a sci-fi movie in 2012. Said CGI is pretty well put together, and visually is a striking mix between the visuals of the Alien trilogy (shut up, it's a trilogy - the latest three films were horrible cheese hallucinations I had) and somewhat generic-but-pretty sci-fi fare. It suffers slightly from the Star-Wars-prequels-syndrome of looking like technology is much further along years before the events of the original movies, but given that (a) we're a long way from the audience expectations of 1979, and (b) the ship in Alien was meant to be a crappy tug and not a top class scientific research vessel - I don't mind too much. There are far bigger holes to plug. Not to mention that nowadays, being impressed by CGI is such a standard sensation that I have become immune to its charms.<br />
<br />
The film as a whole tries to balance on a knife-edge between a slow philosophical sci-fi musing, and a faster-paced sci-fi horror. It desperately fails at this. Not because of any innate problem with this fusion - far from it, other films have managed this capably. Sunshine springs to mind. It fails because it has very little internal consistency, the characters are mostly blank nothings and the writing is shockingly poor given the pretensions at high concept and the proven talents of Ridley Scott and Damon Lindelof.<br />
<br />
Characters will be terrified and fleeing for their lives one moment, and the next giggling and trying to make friends with an alien snake creature. They will be having high-minded discussions of the creation of mankind, and segue awkwardly into a relationship argument. A technological MacGuffin is examined by Rapace's tabula rasa archaeologist lead - she is amazed to have seen one, since only 12 have ever been made. Shortly after this she operates it competently without any hesitation or need for training. These last two examples are also linked to another problem, one of long-range telegraphing that disrupts the flow for the viewer with astonishing clumsiness. The relationship argument is an obvious lead-in to a plot twist that is resolved utilising the MacGuffin, and then virtually thrown away without comment by any other character. The crew just revolve around each other without caring about life, death or any sense of planning through what is fundamentally the most important scientific mission in human history. You get the sense they're making it up as they go along, which in turn makes you feel Ridley Scott and the writers were doing the same thing.<br />
<br />
If this were a pure schlock sci-fi horror, that wouldn't matter. It also wouldn't matter that the inevitable alien (though not Alien) nastyness that emerges doesn't seem to behave or operate under any sense of internal logic. Are they monsters? Do they turn people into monsters? Or into themselves, via any method that is contrived in order to put the cast into a hazardous situation? Oh, all of the above. Unfortunately, when you have pretensions of philosophising and more serious sci-fi these things jar harshly with your suspension of disbelief. Individually these are all nitpicking elements that nerds like me throw out with a snorting sneer, but unfortunately in the case of Prometheus they pile on top of each other until all you're left with is lots of almost-but-not-quite Alien trilogy referencing and a ship full of scientists and blue collar workers who all look like underwear models. There are quite a few extra frustrations I am leaving out of this review, for the sake of spoilerisation and the boredom you would feel from reading the offshoots from my mighty Organ Of Cynicism.<br />
<br />
So, anything decent in the whole turgid junk pile? Well, as I said before it looks nice. The opening scene is superb, mysterious and beautifully shot - but that probably just contributes to the eventual disappointment of the rest of the film. Michael Fassbender is excellent as the morally dubious android David, pushing his performance head and shoulders out of the dross surrounding him to become the finest camp robot in cinema since C-3PO. But other than that, Prometheus badly fails to live up to its promise. Ridley Scott can direct much better than this. Damon Lindelof can write much better than this. Most of the cast can act much better than this.<br />
<br />
And while I appreciate the notion of expanding an established universe into an odd sideways direction, the creative team have really shot themselves in the foot by linking themselves to superior cinematic efforts.<br />
<br />
D-, guys. Must try harder.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-15145648699372784052012-04-26T15:55:00.006+01:002014-01-29T10:39:55.646+00:00<a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/gig-review-resistanz-festival-2012-well.html" style="font-size: x-large;">Gig Review: Resistanz Festival 2012</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpywfqfGgakhgPHqH7T-pMDAOVOjBaiHd-MEKmxtBzPrvyd76mJTeGDODK9buaEWfIrY5dHECgd5T3wyuxLxmIpjDDJL0x_nPFkTgZF-n0VPXU5awVjzmfe1B5YO0uGARPUWAOz44bkr4/s1600/ICON-OF-COIL-Andy-LaPlegua-Sebastian-Komor-Christian-Lund-for-a-very-special-UK-exclusive-show-in-2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpywfqfGgakhgPHqH7T-pMDAOVOjBaiHd-MEKmxtBzPrvyd76mJTeGDODK9buaEWfIrY5dHECgd5T3wyuxLxmIpjDDJL0x_nPFkTgZF-n0VPXU5awVjzmfe1B5YO0uGARPUWAOz44bkr4/s400/ICON-OF-COIL-Andy-LaPlegua-Sebastian-Komor-Christian-Lund-for-a-very-special-UK-exclusive-show-in-2012.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a>Well, this review might go on a bit. Lots of it might not really be directly about the bands that played. It may, in fact, turn into a rant. I will try and keep myself focused, but I am also aware that my rants tend to make for quite entertaining reading.<br />
<br />
Unless they're about you and your friends. Sorry about that.<br />
<br />
It was my first time at Resistanz this year, and most of the reservations I had about a festival being pitched at Sheffield's Corporation venue were tipped over the side shortly after I arrived. There was plenty of room to maneuver, a seating area by the food and clothing stalls, relatively easy access to the numerous bars and more club-oriented rooms in which to lounge if the acts onstage weren't your cup of tea.<br />
<br />
Set times were adhered to, the venue was well-staffed and the sound quality was mostly decent (with an emphasis on 'mostly' - we'll come back to that bit later). So all round, 'nuff respect to the Resistanz masterminds and crew. And really, that's mostly what you want from a festival unless you're a filthy teetotal musical bitch. Like me. So onwards to the bands, then.<br />
<br />
Saturday kicked off at top speed with <b>Memmaker</b>, a hard dance collective who have made a mark on these pages before - surprising me with a driving performance at Infest 2010. And they delivered much the same at Resistanz, getting most of the early starters into the mood with some crunchy beats and high energy synthlines. It's not (strictly speaking) my thing, but there's no denying that they were a great warm-up act for what was to follow. So great, in fact, that I have to question their placing right down at the bottom of the bill. In all honesty, they were better than anyone else on the Saturday. Give these chaps higher festival slots, please.<br />
<br />
Following this kickin' opening were <b>Be My Enemy</b>, a leaden slab of metal-tinged techno-industrial fronted by Cubanate alumnus Phil Barry. And frankly, Cubanate is a very appropriate touchstone. Going so far as to cover a couple of their tracks - including evergreen dancefloor mauler "Oxyacetylene" - they show a lot of promise but something feels like it isn't quite clicking yet. A new take on what they are following on from, perhaps. In addition to this, Barry's JS Clayden-esque sneering whine takes a bit of getting used to when one is used to Marc Heal's ursine roar over the top of this kind of material. None of this was helped by an extremely muddy, poor sound mix.<br />
<br />
Next up was trippy-industrial power noise mentalist Jamie Blacker with his project <b>E.S.A.</b>, and while his shows are always incendiary and overflowing with aggressive adrenal release I found something slightly lacking to this one. A relative paucity of material from career highlight 'The Sea & The Silence', maybe. Or perhaps now that the power noise scene has gotten a taste of live performance I have become used to howling men in wifebeater vests bashing electronic drums along to big acidic beats. Regardless, it was still a decent show and E.S.A. remain a solid live recommendation.<br />
<br />
<b>Soman</b> get labelled with a lot of fraudulent genre titles, but realistically his stuff can be comfortable and simply slotted into the 'techno' bracket. Without a doubt the purest dance material of the weekend, his bubbling enthusiasm for playing live is something that could be seen to be holding the performance together. The music itself is neither stripped-back nor gnarly enough to push itself out from a crowd of similar artists who have been cannibalising each other since the early 1990s, but how much does that matter when one is faced with a grinning lunatic bouncing up and down on stage and generally channeling the cheery raving face of Tyres from Spaced? Well, to a dour old hack like me - it matters quite a lot. Not so much for the audience though, who are fairly happy to just zone out and move to the everpresent four-on-the-floor beat. Soman seems to be slowly morphing into the DJ Tiësto of the industrial scene. Make of that what you will.<br />
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A change of pace is heralded by <b>Frozen Plasma</b> taking the stage, wielding a fairly stale take on the old electropop formula championed by the likes of And One. If that's your thing, cool. You'd have lapped them up. Their only saving grace for me was Felix Marc's genuine attempt to be an engaging frontman. This, however, was let down by a mediocre vocal performance and some genuinely drab and dull music to jump around listlessly along to.<br />
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<b>Nachtmahr</b>. Oh, Nachtmahr. When will we ever get along? Not any time soon, if this performance is to be a herald of things to come. I will refer the reader once again to my Infest 2010 review, where I railed against the whole military fashion aesthetic and theme of the band like the bleeding-heart liberal bore I am. But what struck me about them this time round wasn't along those lines (apart from Thomas Rainer's haircut, which is getting more Hitler-like every year). It was just how sub-par they are musically. Electro-industrial, electro-industrial, doof doof doof eek eek eek. Waagh waagh waagh half-hearted shouty bit. Like most popular non-noise sub-genres in 'the scene' these days, it's taking a pattern laid down by Suicide Commando and proceeding to smooth out the rough edges, paint it a different shade of black then repeat ad nauseum. And hell, even Suicide Commando were a tad repetitive on the best of days. Throw in some borderline offensive Combichrist misanthropy/un-PC antagonism and we're good to go. I was struck especially by the tune "Mädchen In Uniform", which sounded like an early teenage garage band got ahold of a bunch of synthesisers and wrote a song for their school's battle of the bands.<br />
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And yet you schlubs fucking swallow it down and beg for more. I hate all of you.<br />
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Saturday was headlined by<b> Grendel</b>. I caught about two songs by them, enough to be rickrolled. Coreline did it better. He had a dance troupe, and the redoubtable Keef Baker dressed as a carrot. Strip the poorly judged Rick Astley cover out, and it's just more electro-industrial. Yeah ok, they're a bit better at it than most. They've been doing it longer. But still. It's a sub-genre revolving around an endless wannabe-cyberpunk scratchy vinyl loop and I'm far too bitter a human being (and lazy a reviewer) to sit through more of it than I have to.<br />
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So sorry, Grendel. Sorry, Grendel fans. You're all the very best people, I'm sure. But doof doof doof, eek eek eek. Snore.<br />
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Sunday arrived. I made an attempt to shed the horrible pitted husk of my usual self to enjoy <b>Surgyn</b>, and was mildly surprised to find I nearly made it there. Bringing together elements of futurepop, more traditional industrial and ~grits teeth~ electro-industrial to a fairly cohesive whole, what they lack in genre spot-welding talent they make up for with making the effort to put on a show and put across a persona. The overall effect is somewhat brought down by a slight shonkyness that pervades everything, and a potentially interesting insert of operatic vocals into the more typical vocal delivery is let down by a lack of, well, singing ability. But all these things are nothing a hefty lump of experience couldn't fix. Ones to watch.<br />
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And just in case I was under a feverish delusion that there would be a surfeit of innovation for the rest of the day, <b>Detroit Diesel</b> come along and pound out a harsh EBM set that seriously could have been any other act peddling similar wares. I suppose I should give thanks they weren't exactly electro-industrial, but it just made me feel I was watching a Decoded Feedback tribute act. Nothing especially wrong, but nothing especially right either. Next.<br />
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Oh no. Wait. Next was <b>FGFC820</b>, wasn't it? Christ. More harsh EBM, only now with a military aesthetic and lyrics. All my favourite things in one place. Stomping around the stage in a flak jacket to recycled/simplified old FLA burbles and synths does not make you an American Funker Vogt. Bereft of charisma, nothing individual or remarkable whatsover. Like an overweight army reject dry-humping his replica M6 carbine along to the beat. While you bay and cheer and dance like the dogs you are.<br />
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That's unfair, actually. It implies they went down well. They didn't, really. Maybe you're not all that bad after all.<br />
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Thank the great old ones for <b>W.A.S.T.E</b> then, who blast through a tight set of genuinely varied industrial noise complete with full video backing (ranging from atrocities to '80s breakdancing) and occasionally break off from their rhythmic assault to come centre stage and bellow at the swollen crowd. This was the rarest of things, a noise set that felt like a proper gig and not a DJ. Melodic elements were discernable despite the brutal and unforgiving machine noise layers, and the songs featuring vocals really lifted material above and beyond their genre confines. At times veering excitingly close to a more unrelenting and violent old school industrial, W.A.S.T.E definitely got the crowd moving again.<br />
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<b>Straftanz</b>. Very popular. Undoubtedly a party act with a fairly mixed batch of sounds and songs, some of their stuff almost touched on electro (for any scene kids reading this, that's without the -industrial bit, and sounding really quite different). Like most party acts though, it wasn't my thing. There's a limit to how much I can jump up and down and go 'woo', and Straftanz hit it about 10 seconds into their set. Can't really condemn them though. Go see them and decide for yourself. What, you want quality AND dedication in your reviews? Go to someone who gets paid for it.<br />
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Then <b>Ultraviolence</b> came on stage, and the average age of the audience members went up by 20 years. Managing to be both faintly embarassing and really quite enjoyable, Johnny Violent seemed moderately shocked to be onstage playing to a number of people who still knew his songs. It was a fair tour of his older 1,000,000bpm gabber material alongside at least one newer track that came overlaid with a glittering sheen and was, somewhat shockingly, really very good. That's not to say I don't enjoy Ultraviolence on record or live, but to be handing out genuinely decent dancefloor tunes at this stage in his career wasn't what I had expected. Perhaps a new album, Mr Violent? If it maintains consistency it would be a worthy purchase. Backing the shouting/big beat chicanery was some angle grinding and such, which did wonders to pad out the inherently pared-down sound. Closing with an inevitable "Hardcore Motherfucker", it was a set that most likely satisfied old fans and maybe even piqued the interest of a few vacant cyberkiddies.<br />
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A total change was then on the cards with <b>mind.in.a.box</b> taking to the stage and running through their synthpop material transformed for a traditional live rock band setup. As an exercise for an electronic act, it's fascinating. As something for a near-headliner to do in front of a festival crowd used to their recorded material and with heads full of grinding beats, it's incredibly bold. And it worked too, though the sound once more collapsed under the weight of all those filthy analog instruments. Since the only other band to really suffer from bad sound over the weekend was Be My Enemy, I am forced to conclude that whoever was conducting the engineering for the weekend wasn't used to bands who have non-electronic elements. It beggars belief that any sound engineers fit into that category. Maybe it was just bad luck/equipment. If not (and if the entire weekend was conducted by a single group of guys), then someone needs a thorough whipping for pretending to be competent enough to mix a festival.<br />
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And while we're at it, back onto a common cause of complaint for me. Venues, get some decent lighting people in. Because what The Corporation have right now, as many of you do, is not a lighting expert. They're a fucking epilepsy technician. Strobes - 5 second maximum. Once. In one song. Per set. Some bands don't need them at all. Light shows need subtlety, not everything turned up to 11. You're there to augment the performance, not hammer on your buttons like an overexcited primate.<br />
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Where were we? Oh yeah, mind.in.a box - innovative, well-executed proggy synthpop guitar thing. Different, engaging and emotive. The tracks I did recognise I definitely prefer in their original format, but I am willing to drop my mask of vile cynicism for a band as genuinely heartfelt as this. Full marks for effort and execution, and a welcome breath of fresh air.<br />
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The Sunday - and festival - headliners were <b>Icon Of Coil</b>, and it took less than half a song for anyone with any semblance of brain activity to realise why. Rolling onto the stage like conquering heroes, it was a set that drove home just how little there needs to be seperating the energy of an electronic band from a rock/metal band in a live setting if people know what they are doing. It also clearly hammered in place just how superior IOC were to the current output of follow-up acts like Combichrist. Bringing out half of their debut album 'Serenity Is The Devil' and augmented by choice picks off their other releases, I felt for the first time that my body was moving in some kind of rhythmic pattern. After several minutes, I slowly came to the realisation that I was dancing. I am apparently not quite as leached of passion and youth as the rest of this review might have you believe.<br />
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Crucially, Icon's performance helped highlight the weaknesses of a good deal of the other acts that weekend. Charisma? Check. Distinctive sound? Check. A raft of quality material? Check. All things provided by experience and a lack of willingness to simply go through the motions. I'll leave off from completing this rant because I feel an article coming on, but to put it simply - they were awesome. Glittering futurepop anthems like "Dead Enough For Life" were mixed with the likes of the darkly throbbing "Floorkiller", and an encore emerged in the form of their excellent cover of Front 242's "Headhunter". This hopefully won't be the last we see of Icon Of Coil.<br />
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There were undoubtedly decent acts scattered through the weekend, and I can't fault the setup of the festival itself. But the message I was left with? The cyber-whatever scene is in desperate need of an adrenalising injection containing equal parts innovation, talent and serotonin.ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-67810920722678041992012-04-23T15:47:00.003+01:002014-01-29T10:40:17.155+00:00<a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/gig-review-helmet-sound-control.html"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Gig Review: Helmet @ Sound Control, Manchester</span></a><br />
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Band reunion tours and albums are everywhere you look these days, and the results can charitably be called mixed. But before we delve into where the Helmet reunion falls on the good/shit spectrum, it is our duty to dabble with the support act.<br />
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<b>Fighting With Wire</b> are a bunch of amiable Irish chaps who come across as fairly youthful yet seasoned tour supports and arrive in Manchester wielding a grungey alt.-rock aesthetic that stands to reap huge dividends for them in the current musical climate. A wee bit of early Biffy Clyro here, a dram of Nirvana there and a mixed dollop of A and Foo Fighters to top things off. Their biggest problem is a pronounced lack of originality, combined with a sometimes jarring transition of sounds between songs. The latter in itself isn't a problem - but it becomes one when every song is strongly reminiscent of a different influence. Still, there's plenty of charisma and toned energy on show. They're certainly not objectionable and with some more work on their own style they could make significant headway.<br />
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And so on to <b>Helmet</b>. Since their reformation in 2004, they have put out three albums of somewhat questionable quality. And by that, I mean they weren't very good. At all. While not quite at the bottom of the dreck pile, they're also far below the level one would expect from the guys who put out the likes of 'Meantime' and 'Aftertaste'. Which might be because, Chris Traynor on the first two new records aside, the rebirth of Helmet has been Page Hamilton plus Other Musicians. This is a growing trend in band reunions, and a sign that increasingly a whole band dynamic is being undervalued. Either that, or that people will do anything for cash once the money is gone. Maybe I'm just being cynical and demanding that my old favourites live up to my nostalgic standards. But hey, both of those are valuable skills for any reviewer.<br />
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Still, I'm not here to judge the last three Helmet records. "What was the gig like, o Bastard of our dreams?" I hear you cry.<br />
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Well, it was much better than their recent studio efforts. An initial smattering of newer material was helped along by both opening with my favourite Helmet tune "Like I Care", not to mention the reverse-order playthrough of their 1992 classic 'Meantime' that followed the initial salvo. Page Hamilton plus Other Musicians rammed home an hour and a bit of punishing and angular rock into our sweaty faces - and it was punishment eagerly accepted by a relaxed but enthusiastic crowd. The blips of recent songwriting that poked their heads above the battlement tentatively did come across better in a live setting, as did the weaker tracks off 'Meantime' itself - which melds together excellently into a blistering whole when being pitched offstage as precisely timed depth charges of bass-driven sound. There is an authority and power to the seemingly simple song construction and riffage of older Helmet songs that is hard to deny, and the more one listens to said songs the more it becomes apparent just how big a debt a lot of younger bands owe these forefathers of alternative metal.<br />
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Hamilton is surprisingly affable and funny onstage, as well. Which helps to smoothen the gig along, since even their most ardent fan would be hard-pressed to deny that much of the earlier Helmet material can be somewhat po-faced. The reason for the choice to play 'Meantime' backwards becomes firmly apparent by the close of the gig, when a storming "In The Meantime" comes roaring out of the amps like a righteously charging bull and each individual unified stomp pounds the floor to dusty chunks. A swift choice pick of tunes from 'Betty' and 'Aftertaste' closes proceedings, leaving all concerned well satisfied and sufficiently brutalised.<br />
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So, then. The newer incarnation of Helmet. I can't in all honesty recommend the albums. But miss Hamilton & company live at your own mortal peril.ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-87029738352550184082012-03-22T16:35:00.002+00:002014-01-29T10:40:28.509+00:00<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/gig-review-pop-will-eat-itself-duchess.html">Gig Review: Pop Will Eat Itself @ The Duchess, York</a></span><br />
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It's been a while since I have been out to gigs on a regular basis. But that's ok, because the headliners for this show haven't been playing gigs on a regular basis for even longer. So we can grow together in the most beautiful way a band and a critic can - by sloppy writing on an obscure review blog.<br />
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But first, the support act. Local goth-tinged newcomers <b>Berlin Black</b> are an intriguing prospect, if only because they are the only new band I have seen linked to the UK goth scene in a long time who are actually in possession of their own nuanced sound. A slick fusion of jagged post-punk sneer with pop sensibilities and a penchant for echoing indie rock choruslines, the closest touchstone I can hit upon is that they sound oddly like The Killers. That is more of a compliment than it might seem. It's refreshing to see songcraft and style together under the banner of hairspray and black leather - one to watch, with an EP review incoming soon.<br />
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This particular <b>Pop Will Eat Itself </b>reunion is reduced down to co-vocalist Graham Crabb and a bunch of hired hands. Last year's comeback album was a patchy affair that did nothing particularly wrong but also failed to show much of the anarchic glimmer that suffused all the previous PWEI material - coming across more like the stock industrial metal that took its cues from 'Dos Dedos Mis Amigos' than the bold original itself. And at first it seemed that the gig would follow suit as a pale imitation of former glories. Bursting onto stage with somewhat forced enthusiasm and pelting straight into some classic tunes, it was clear that a genuine energy was something that the audience would have to take a hand at building themselves.<br />
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The lineup themselves were an odd mix - Clint Mansell replaced by Mary Byker (bringing some extra grebo cache that was much needed), former Pitchshifter drummer Jason Bowld behind the kit and the guitar/bass fronted by two chaps constructed mostly of tattoos and haircuts. That's not to say any of these people were poor choices. Solid musicians all, with Bowld providing an extraordinarily tight hi-speed backing of thumping beats while Byker did an astonishingly good Mansell impression throughout. The latter also provided some visual dynamism, which was lucky because ironically Crabb was certainly the weak link throughout. Having not seen PWEI at the height of their powers, I'm not sure if he has always struggled to perform vocal duties in a live setting or whether this is a case of age conquering all. Either way, it was strange to see what could effectively be argued to be a cover act solidly outperform the only original member of the band onstage.<br />
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Once past the initial hump of uncertainty dogging them, the likes of "Everything's Cool" and "Preaching To The Perverted" were blasted into the crowd with a fair amount of verve and tenacity. The sheer variety of material was a boon in this situation, since if a particularly heavy machine rock-style choice didn't quite synch up - typically their newer material, which came across as unremarkable live as it is on record - then pretty soon a sloganeering mashup of hip-hop, electro and Madchester sounds would blare out and effectively reinvent the room. By the time the encore rolled around, everything was back on track to the degree that a padded-out version of "Their Law" came across as pure PWEI, with all semblance of The Prodigy screaming away into the distance. A rousing "Wise Up Sucker" closed affairs, and wrapped up possibly the jammiest gig recovery I have ever seen. The jury is still out on whether the the Poppies' reunion can provide the goods on record, but if they work on coming faster off the blocks then they can still be an appealing prospect live.ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-20910311532856593322011-12-16T15:53:00.001+00:002014-01-29T10:41:43.361+00:00<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.com/2011/12/atcbs-top-100-albums-of-bastards-decade_16.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; text-decoration: underline;"><u>ATCB's Top 100 Albums Of The Bastard's Decade: 10-1</u></span> </a></span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Presenting the final installment in this ongoing, self-obsessed series. A Spotify playlist featuring all available recommended tracks is being built daily alongside the list, and can be found by <a href="http://open.spotify.com/user/organica/playlist/26E8KxBFao44lRweshbU2K" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">clicking here</a>.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>10. Killing Joke – ‘Killing Joke’ (2003)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">When Killing Joke kicked out finally kicked out an album
after a seven year hiatus that followed the sub-par ‘Democracy’, few expected
it to hit with the raw passion and rage that it did. A violent burst of
deathmarching industrial metal with a tribal vibe, it not only brought them
back to the loving arms of their longterm fans but also bought them a whole new
generation of followers who were foaming at the mouth to check out the
ancestors of acts like Static-X and Fear Factory. As their second eponymous
release, this could be seen as a reinvention of sorts. Yet all the old Killing
Joke ingredients are still in the mix – Jaz Coleman’s apocalyptic howl,
Geordie’s hypnotic guitars, Raven and Youth’s pulsing bass tremors. Yet all of
these are turned defiantly up to 11 to produce their heaviest record before or
since, adding yet another string to their bow that has in the past
confidently fired arrows ranging from post-punk to goth to prog rock. A guest
starring Dave Grohl on drums only served to further add fuel to the fire, with
the revolving percussion acting as a driving instrument in a way that is
ignored by many bands. Lyrically it’s all conspiracy theories and barely
restrained moral outrage, the band setting themselves out as 21<sup>st</sup>
century urban primitives crusading for the downfall of the enemies of mankind.
For many other acts this would seem contrived. It’s a credit to the enduring
power and honesty of Killing Joke that they pull it off flawlessly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “The Death & Resurrection Show”,
“Asteroid”, “Loose Cannon”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">When Godflesh were disbanded and Justin Broadrick moved on to
field Jesu as a main project, it seemed natural that he would expand on the
drone and shoegaze elements that had pervaded Godflesh releases for a number of
years. With this eponymous debut release he managed to concentrate these
aspects of his old band into an expansive yet focused post-metal sound. There’s
a slow rolling thunder to many of the tracks on offer, like recordings of
geological change sped up into coherency. Ancient slumbering gods turn over in
their sleep under a black ocean, as drums pound out a slow rhythm with
Broadrick’s vocals diving deep into the surface overhead. The decision on which
Jesu album to include in this list was a difficult one, with this LP only just
edging out 2007’s follow-up ‘Conqueror’ at the last second. In many ways I do
prefer the latter – it takes the monolithic crush of this release and blends in
an almost-pop element that gives way to a truly unique sound. But ‘Jesu’ is
both more consistent and more coherent as an album – one you can spin any
number of times and lose yourself in, sinking gently into Broadrick’s bittersweet
dimension of intensely physical sound.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Friends Are Evil”, “Tired Of Me”, “Sun
Day”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInnCeFwK-Fu-x9FtResXlz4420LvRO3gYgMnxhWek3M7WWHVQ-1w3hfKqZCGqWj4WxfBXIrfVqfM2bkmQPThNxTOjXxQj1UJ09b2od96eGnCsYi3PzgOedH3uTr1NeXg84j52aytRTZI/s1600/Bat_for_lashes_two_suns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInnCeFwK-Fu-x9FtResXlz4420LvRO3gYgMnxhWek3M7WWHVQ-1w3hfKqZCGqWj4WxfBXIrfVqfM2bkmQPThNxTOjXxQj1UJ09b2od96eGnCsYi3PzgOedH3uTr1NeXg84j52aytRTZI/s200/Bat_for_lashes_two_suns.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>8. Bat For Lashes – ‘Two Suns’ (2009)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I have to confess to a certain amount of guilt that there are
relatively few releases featuring female artists on this list. I’d like to
think that this is down to a gender-biased music industry rather than any
inherent sexism or preference on my part, but feel free to make your own
judgements. Regardless, this is the highest entry for a solo female artist, and
though the inevitable comparisons to the likes of Kate Bush and Tori Amos can
be made (and unlike most muso clichés, it isn’t entirely inappropriate in this
case), Natasha Khan constructs her own universe of shimmering glass and
flickering stars to perform against. In ATCB’s opinion ‘Two Suns’ is far
superior to her 2006 debut, largely down to a voluminous increase in range and
imagination. Traditional instrumentation collides with the more obscure, all of
it bounded by occasional stabs of synths and beats. It is eclectic, but never
feels as though this was the intent. Rather, the images woven by Bat For Lashes
made themselves known through certain sounds – and these just happened to be of
a varied nature, while Khan’s voice comfortably transitions between a husky
whisper and soothing angelic crescendos. The album as a whole feels like a
strangely familiar folk tale told just out of reach of comprehension, a
childhood story only half-remembered. It leaves you in an oddly melancholic
state, softly smiling at memories left unfinished. And I don’t know about you,
dear reader, but I find that is a beautiful place to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Glass”, “Daniel”, “Siren Song”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNBGf0o7gNIJPxNfQnTHiDxXTH2ZmeZAY2bjtpxH5NpcYi4tRURxHBKu4x61fspqhdtupHB4pSm1DSAQkAdluIxVGhjdF1-U1My6djJCAyfvq_6Vq6V6sB4iXeO4BzRm2-iSorazCFlw/s1600/Anglescover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNBGf0o7gNIJPxNfQnTHiDxXTH2ZmeZAY2bjtpxH5NpcYi4tRURxHBKu4x61fspqhdtupHB4pSm1DSAQkAdluIxVGhjdF1-U1My6djJCAyfvq_6Vq6V6sB4iXeO4BzRm2-iSorazCFlw/s200/Anglescover.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>7. dan le sac vs. Scroobius Pip – ‘Angles’ (2008)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Proving themselves much more than a music video gone viral,
the combination of acid-burbling electro wizard Dan le Sac and emotively musing
MC Scroobius Pip in a full debut release made for an appealing prospect . Said
debut ‘Angles’ showed a variety and innovation that wasn’t exactly absent from
hip-hop in the ‘00s – but neither was it particularly prevalent. Rhymes on
topics as varied as rambling esoteric dreams, self-harm, musical elitism and
Tommy Cooper are perched studiously on top of equally varied beats and
synthlines. It’s the synchronisation between the two that pushes the record up
above the ramparts, defiantly giving you a friendly thousand-yard stare unless
you sit down and pay some damn attention. The production feels raw and slightly
unfinished, which swings between being slightly disappointing and strangely
satisfying. It certainly brings an immediacy and urgency that was sadly lacking
from 2010’s follow-up ‘The Logic Of Chance’. Nevertheless, ‘Angles’ for me
proved to be an LP that came along just at the right time. It hit the hipster
zeitgeist sideways with rocket-powered precision – a nod, wink and tweak of the
beard that aims to make you laugh, cry and wave your hands in the air all in
one go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Look For The Woman”, “Angles”, “Thou
Shalt Always Kill”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-3W6_gkXM3mci4X8Sb4_sp6RhyYUCUtzAhvIPOuKpscdIkfinqAx_QtEvNiMz37CGivdjk5DxC_c65sY-xx6V08Cm8OuKJfcB6E1TOzbd0Ps8wdEOHH4_6upc8-4BZAX2NNavl1eMJA/s1600/Combichrist_-_Everybody_Hates_You.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-3W6_gkXM3mci4X8Sb4_sp6RhyYUCUtzAhvIPOuKpscdIkfinqAx_QtEvNiMz37CGivdjk5DxC_c65sY-xx6V08Cm8OuKJfcB6E1TOzbd0Ps8wdEOHH4_6upc8-4BZAX2NNavl1eMJA/s200/Combichrist_-_Everybody_Hates_You.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>6. Combichrist – ‘Everybody Hates You’ (2005)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">There’s not much to write about Combichrist that hasn’t
already been said in the online world of alt. electro journalism. They’re a
niche act who have managed to claw their way out of the scene and almost crack
the alternative mainstream through sheer bloody-minded infectiousness. And
those support slots with Rammstein probably helped too. Come to think of it,
they’re probably the ONLY act of their kind to ever crack that
chrome-strengthened glass ceiling. That they have done this all way after the
release of ‘Everybody Hates You’ just shows how late the rest of the globe is to
the party. Whatever you want to term them – aggrotech, industrial, harsh EBM –
Combichrist are a sexualised (and undoubtedly sexist) injection of harsh
beat-driven adrenalin mainlined right to the frontal cortex and this is
undoubtedly their best work. Stripped down to the core necessities of looped
crunches, bass kicks and occasional synthlines, the only humanity dripfed into
the mix is a combination of female vocoder samples and Andy LaPlegua’s
pseudo-metal roar. To say that this is an album packed with dancefloor fillers
is both obvious and a potential understatement. For a period of several years I
don’t think I went out to an alt. electro night without at least three tracks
off this album turning the club into a heaving sea of cybergoths, freaks and rivetheads
all mouthing along to sado-masochistic terms of endearment. Six years on it’s
probably reduced to two tracks a night and ‘Everybody Hates You’ still dwarfs a
flood of imitators (including, one could argue, Combichrist’s output since
this), only stopping now and then to strap listeners down and thrash them
bloody before fucking them in the most inappropriate way possible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “This Shit Will Fuck You Up”, “Today I
Woke To The Rain Of Blood”, “Like To Thank My Buddies”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>5. Biffy Clyro – ‘Puzzle’ (2007)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Selecting this album might lead me to being censured by the
community of hardcore Biffy Clyro fans. Fortunately I find them as irritating
as I find all groups centred primarily around nerdrage, so no loss there. When
‘Puzzle’ was released it showed a far more poppy direction than the band had
taken previously, dialling down their obtuse time signatures and dynamic shifts
(though not eliminating them entirely, as shown by album opener “Living Is A
Problem Because Everything Dies”) and ramping up the catchy bubblegum guitar
hooks and soaring yet surreal lyrics. It certainly worked for the band in terms
of audience base and airplay, catapulting them from slightly underground odd
indie rock darlings to one of the biggest current UK exports in alternative
rock. It also worked musically, because they have a genuine knack for
constructing pop songs that maintain a real biting edge – a common talent for
bands in the ‘80s that has since fallen far by the wayside. ‘Puzzle’ is still
quirky and innovative, but is also approachable and appreciable on a number of
different levels – from the snorting indie hipster all the way down to the
primary colour bracelet-and-eyeline teen punk wannabe. It’s a transition that
makes so much sense in context of their wider career. While 2003’s ‘The Vertigo
Of Bliss’ was the quizzical pseudo-masterpiece that brought them much acclaim,
2004’s ‘Infinity Land’ was an also-ran follow-up that failed to ignite in the
same innovative way. This LP is a response to that, a callback to simpler times
and sounds that maintains the sparks of ingenuity that lifted them out of the
crowd in the first place. It’s a record with a startling capacity to make me
happy, and when you’re as grossly pessimistic and misanthropic as me that is
something to hold on to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Living Is A Problem Because Everything
Dies”, “Saturday Superhouse”, “A Whole Child Ago”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7I8MgO_duLa1wj_FchY1tfK9PaQj0i3iv6SGU2a6rCHwZZPLbd_03bEQfeRLsPxDnWOG_86tnNoPAPDgKfBTcRQ3e7z6iiVKJkvntDWwWsMHhcdZ-UIiyoHMspFYG9P8yYWN0CNR8Jc/s1600/Tbmviolet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7I8MgO_duLa1wj_FchY1tfK9PaQj0i3iv6SGU2a6rCHwZZPLbd_03bEQfeRLsPxDnWOG_86tnNoPAPDgKfBTcRQ3e7z6iiVKJkvntDWwWsMHhcdZ-UIiyoHMspFYG9P8yYWN0CNR8Jc/s200/Tbmviolet.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>4. The Birthday Massacre – ‘Violet’ (2005)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">A combination of an early released EP also named ‘Violet’ and
re-recorded songs from their fuzzy fairytale 2002 debut ‘Nothing And Nowhere’,
this album defies the usual gothic rock conventions by being fresh, personable
and unbounded by genre cliché. The subculture-baiting and abstractly personal
lyrics of Chibi are sung in a clear, unforced manner while electronic drums,
fey twinkling keyboards and distorted-but-mostly-unheavy guitars play like
rabbit-suited children in the background. Unless you are familiar with 21<sup>st</sup>
century goth music, it’s difficult to express how much of a relief all of that
is. It’s long been a sub-genre built around atmosphere rather than genuine
talent, but The Birthday Massacre are blessed with a surfeit of both. Many
blackclad creatures of the night would shudder in private horror to hear me
suggest this, but I am convinced ‘Violet’ is the best unrecognised pop album on
the whole damn planet. Every single track sounds like the closing credits of a
nostalgically inspiring 1980s kids film about travelling to a magic land filled
with cowardly bears who need to find their inner rage, and Victorian couples
dancing waltzes over starlit meadows. Only y’know, that film was cancelled
pre-production. And now all we have is the leftover soundtrack from The
Birthday Massacre, discovered at the back of a dusty, empty antique store.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Play Dead”, “Blue”, “Nevermind”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>3. Alkaline Trio – ‘Good Mourning’ (2003)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Alkaline Trio had been spinning pop-punk webs of bitter lost
love, addiction and gothic flames long before the release of ‘Good Mourning’,
but with this album I would argue that the ingredients all finally came
together into a wickedly delightful witch’s brew. Both Matt Skiba and Dan
Andriano’s songwriting contributions coalesce into a single flowing black and
red stream, and where other bands would suffer from having alternating
vocalists Alk3 seem to positively thrive on it – one taking over when emotional
exhaustion sets in with the other. Most tracks feature complimentary vocal
harmonies that pick up the central melody and dash forward while giggling maniacally.
The music itself starts to favour a more mature rock feel than their punkier
days of old, but there is still plenty of speeding bounce on a few tracks. It’s
an album whispered sadly but wryly to the ceiling in a rotten room filled only
with an old vinyl collection and a half-collapsed campbed, the other occupants
long since left to set fire to abandoned houses. Many of the other artists on
this list have succeeded in making music that is by turns funny, sad, happy and
energetic. But ‘Good Mourning’ may be the best example of an LP that manages
all these things all the way through, all at the same time. It’s one long barking
and fatalistic laugh into the void, and that is definitely my favourite way to
spend time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “This Could Be Love”, “Fatally Yours”,
“Blue Carolina”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZwQ1Kf95iTS0fCZLDp50foZJ3CeCBqsIc4EAv-aorULIdcx5lTj2x08GmHXvwhjhLwQcUcWJvXFZvywiQHk_zoJdidiGyn0IiU_PrWoHpMknKEZqEAuXk8WodvMT8Dhyphenhyphen0IZJb_aqeNbQ/s1600/Aereogramme-my_heart-cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZwQ1Kf95iTS0fCZLDp50foZJ3CeCBqsIc4EAv-aorULIdcx5lTj2x08GmHXvwhjhLwQcUcWJvXFZvywiQHk_zoJdidiGyn0IiU_PrWoHpMknKEZqEAuXk8WodvMT8Dhyphenhyphen0IZJb_aqeNbQ/s200/Aereogramme-my_heart-cover.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>2. Aereogramme – ‘My Heart Has A Wish That You Would Not Go’
(2007)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Previous Aereogramme records had a distinctive quiet/loud
alt. indie aesthetic that bought them fans in all the right places – if by ‘right’
you mean critical acclaim but pretty much zero in the way of sales. For this,
their final release, they focused almost exclusively on the quiet side of
things. It’s a record which I struggle to describe in terms other than
simplified adjectives of appreciation. Beautiful, gorgeous, lush, affecting.
Lyrically it’s superlative, building imagery up in your mind’s eye before
rendering it down again with a line that leaves you breathless and torn. It has
a deep intensity in the gentlest way possible, lulling you with soft whispers
before dropping you through clouds and treetops to an uncertain landing. Mostly
utilising variations on a traditional rock setup, there are acoustic and
electric guitars, bass and drums aplenty but also piano, strings and keyboards.
Each track feels like a specific project and design of its own accord, and
frankly it’s a miracle that the album holds together as well as it does. But
for reasons unbeknownst to the likes of me it does manage it. It’s a journey
without a destination through bleak desert lands with a single flower erupting
powerfully out of the grim road ahead of you, a dive into murky waters where
your only guiding light is a shifting golden glow from a locked box on the
ocean floor containing treasures unknown. I am having to use this language
because nothing else works for me. That this comes in at #2 rather than the top
spot is because of matters perhaps more intellectual than heartfelt. As an
internalised expression of the ebb and flow of human emotion, no other album of
my decade comes even close.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Exits”, “Trenches”, “Nightmares”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>1. iLiKETRAiNS – ‘Elegies To Lessons Learnt’ (2007)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Here we are at last. I have been surprised how mentally
exhausting yet stimulating this list would be to write, and I have to ask
myself whether the end result has been worth the effort. Well, if the end
result pushes anyone towards listening to ‘Elegies To Lessons Learnt’ then the
answer is a resounding yes. Leeds post-rockers iLiKETRAiNS were primarily
notable in their early years for the lyrical content. On top of their tidal
guitars and insistent military drums, David Martin’s sonorous and somber tones
told of historical people and events that have mostly slipped through the
cracks of textbooks and general knowledge. A cast of martyrs, fools and deluded
heroes are pitched together to produce a tapestry of humanity. That the overall
sense one gains of this humanity is its inherent capacity for both hope and
despair is telling. This release was their first LP, following 2006’s equally
superlative EP ‘Progress, Reform’ in both spirit and style. It gives over a
sense of both rambling travel between times and place and an internal
consistency in theme and mood, painting sometimes miserabilist pictures of the
folly and insanity of mankind. By no means an easy record to listen to or
appreciate, it nevertheless builds and builds in the retelling until the lines
blur and you find yourself as a deranged sailor giving way to his own hubris
and delusion, a bitter assassin enraged by poorly aimed self-righteousness, a
shattered and broken survivor reliving nightmares of slaughtered glory.
iLiKETRAiNS place small carved stone idols of these individuals in front of you
for your consideration and take a step backwards, daring you to claim you are
any different. That you’re not one of them. That you wouldn’t, couldn’t do the
same. Then when you collapse weeping and begging forgiveness for transgressions
committed years before your birth they bend over, remove that piece and put the next in its place. That I have focused on the content and not the structure
so far does not imply the latter is weaker. Guitars, bass, drums, brass and
trumpet rush across your mind in foaming waves of purity and decay where every
ebb is matched in kind by a new crashing swell of trembling strength. Don’t
mistake me. This isn’t a record for everyone. It’s intense, unforgiving and at
times coldly arch. It is not a happy record. But it is a record that moves
beyond its state as a physical collection of songs recorded in a studio by men
playing instruments. It is, dare I say it, art. It comments on, and therefore
becomes part of, the human condition. In the face of that, the superb songcraft
and musical innovation almost seem like afterthoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> <b><i>“Death. It is the end.
More or less.” </i></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “The Deception”, “Spencer Perceval”,
“Death Is The End”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Many thanks to everyone who has sat through each and every one of these entries. And what the hell, thanks if you just clicked onto one of them from a random Google search for extremely specific pornography. ATCB will be following this up with a couple of similarly self-indulgent appendices as well as some fresh new articles and reviews over the New Year. I hope you enjoy them as much you bitterly tolerated this.</span></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-78102011872536459042011-12-15T14:01:00.001+00:002014-01-29T10:49:06.281+00:00<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.com/2011/12/atcbs-top-100-albums-of-bastards-decade_15.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u>ATCB's Top 100 Albums Of The Bastard's Decade: 2</u></span>0-11</a> </span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Presenting the penultimate installment in this ongoing, self-obsessed series. A Spotify playlist featuring all available recommended tracks is being built daily alongside the list, and can be found by <a href="http://open.spotify.com/user/organica/playlist/26E8KxBFao44lRweshbU2K" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">clicking here</a>.</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1y-qY5bBjdCI9sKBL4WJqSSp07XM-HIUgtFDwT-g01s1zW2Zmkwi2hg7-MKi6g0OZ1uX70CSt-cU2im71SOkOJyIGo_1_plMYrAeq8b_qfDPF4dfjpKO3PjSd-evBrd5I9So1YVJn5o/s1600/UnitedByFate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1y-qY5bBjdCI9sKBL4WJqSSp07XM-HIUgtFDwT-g01s1zW2Zmkwi2hg7-MKi6g0OZ1uX70CSt-cU2im71SOkOJyIGo_1_plMYrAeq8b_qfDPF4dfjpKO3PjSd-evBrd5I9So1YVJn5o/s200/UnitedByFate.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>20. Rival Schools – ‘United By Fate’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Yet another band on the list who are frequently framed as
‘post-hardcore’ – a term that really only tells you that said band will sound
nothing like any other band who are labelled post-hardcore – Rival Schools are
made up largely of alumni from old school hardcore bands. Notably this includes
Walter Schreifels of Quicksand and Gorilla Biscuits, but Rival Schools is a
more grungey and less urgent prospect than either of these. Fuzzy guitars weave
chaotically through steady percussion, mellow basslines and Schreifels’
gravelly murmur, occasionally beefing up to pummel a more harder-edged riff.
It’s a difficult album to both classify and describe, other than in how it pulls
together influences too numerous to mention from all veins of punk rock, fusing
them together to provide a listening experience that is as comfortable and
tender on the first spin as it is on the hundredth. Splitting quite shortly
after this release, they left many wanting more and have thankfully reformed
quite recently – eventual second album ‘Pedals’ has shown they still have what
it takes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Travel By Telephone”, “Everything Has
Its Point”, “Used For Glue”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-blbXLxDYgLx5iHQmiEgRNzitsnTjEkigbQDNZu2z1-ehSDTR9d0WZIkbNw2EinXPwSEUdFF1Jx2CXQPfGu5Lw5KX9VsvSjQn1vO-CAM9HZZmSTBNjFT5g3H6EmqYKZomlI3zlfSlVY/s1600/R-2977232-1310065660.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-blbXLxDYgLx5iHQmiEgRNzitsnTjEkigbQDNZu2z1-ehSDTR9d0WZIkbNw2EinXPwSEUdFF1Jx2CXQPfGu5Lw5KX9VsvSjQn1vO-CAM9HZZmSTBNjFT5g3H6EmqYKZomlI3zlfSlVY/s200/R-2977232-1310065660.jpeg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>19. Time In Malta – ‘A Second Engine’ (2002)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Melodic hardcore of the kind seemingly obsolete since the
late ‘90s/early ‘00s, Time In Malta never made the splash they could have with
a touch more promotion behind them. ‘A Second Engine’ was their first LP, and
significantly more powerful than the 2004 follow-up ‘Alone With The Alone’. Placing
the emphasis firmly on the melody and emotive pressure in their songs, there is
an expressive side to even the heavier songs with roared vocals and stomping
beatdown guitars. Elsewhere on the album this tendency towards a gentler touch
is more overt, with a few tracks dialling down the hardcore elements
significantly until the band threaten to become one of the most intriguing alt.
rock bands of this century. It’s an almost claustrophobic tightness that the
release binds you in, as each song flows into the next with a sense of real
progression while maintaining a definable sound in and of itself. ‘A Second
Engine’ is a prime example of an album where the whole is greater than the sum
of its parts, simply down to maintaining a sonic authority all of its own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “This Revolution”, “Against The Tide”,
“Grant’s Stand”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLtT5roHzYeh8Cc4Gex7u6D4PpEpl1OHCa6xC7SoaIpzatFbPCLjWXhcvodP5c9RpFitAlCFLjvi_FrvOt2FxGO7eTPIda-jlLbj-gOE4j8-HRxBpd6gI4SHCA960sdT7xPyH8M6ipWw/s1600/R-321906-1176088974.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLtT5roHzYeh8Cc4Gex7u6D4PpEpl1OHCa6xC7SoaIpzatFbPCLjWXhcvodP5c9RpFitAlCFLjvi_FrvOt2FxGO7eTPIda-jlLbj-gOE4j8-HRxBpd6gI4SHCA960sdT7xPyH8M6ipWw/s200/R-321906-1176088974.jpeg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>18. Assemblage 23 – ‘Storm’ (2004)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Tom Shear’s Assemblage 23 is a future/electropop project that
has long trodden the boards around the electro scene while maintaining a
healthy distance from the limelight. Undoubtedly it’s one of the best and most
consistent acts on the circuit, but somehow never manages to become a
floorfilling high profile frequent headliner. But that’s fine by me - because
understated genius has an honesty and joy all of its own. Mixing equal parts
modern cyber synth love and Depeche Mode, ‘Storm’ is for these ears the most
powerful and glorious of all the A23 releases. This is partly down to the
end-to-end quality, with nary a filler track in sight. It’s also partly due to
the soaring silver choruses that can be found on tracks like “Human” and
“Ground”, catapulting you into windswept grey skies before bringing you
crashing back down to earth for the beat-driven verses. But mainly it’s because
Shear manages to compose instrumentation and lyrics that carries a whole range
of emotive markers – fear, ecstasy, regret, ego – without sacrificing integrity
or giving in to self-indulgent personal obsession. Of special note is closing
track “30kft”, a self-contained monologue with a minimalist electronic/string
backing and a gutwrenching ending that I wouldn’t dream of spoilering on
something as crass as a review blog list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Human”, “Ground”, “30kft”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>17. Engerica – ‘There Are No Happy Endings’ (2005)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Bitter and twisted pop-punk with unexpected screaming
spazz-outs, Engerica were for a short while the creepy little brother of the UK
alt. rock circuit. You know the kind. The ones who sit in the corner staring
blankly at you before cackling maniacally when someone relates a particularly
harrowing piece of bad news. ‘There Are No Happy Endings’ was their debut (and,
it turned out, only) LP and it’s a shamelessly addictive cut of lean festering
meat that leaves a more-ish rotten taste in your mouth. The off-kilter wordplay
and song construction are pleasantly at odds with a rather slick production
sound, and any potential bleakness inherent to the material is tempered by
humour and weirdness. If you’ve been tempted by nothing else in this entry,
perhaps the real clincher will be that this is a band unafraid to write a
chorus solely consisting of the lyrical refrain “I look like an arsehole!
Arsehole!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Roadkill”, “My Demise”, “Crooked Sex”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">The majority of Hundred Reasons fans would struggle to argue
that they have dipped significantly in quality since this, their debut album.
But for one shining moment they were the pinnacle of fresh UK talent – their
youthful emo rock more than capable of bringing the sunlight out of the clouds
even in our dank, rain-sodden country. ‘Ideas Above Our Station’ is in many
ways the perfect example of a debut release. You know within seconds of pressing
the ‘Play’ button what is in store for you, celebratory anthems that bloom
readily from one moment to the next. Bubbling over with harmony and modest
grandeur, I would struggle to think of a better summertime pop album. It’s an
LP that infects you directly on the brainstem with irresistible optimism – and
for those of us able to briefly set aside our cynicism, that’s a beautiful
thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “If I Could”, “Shine”, “Silver”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>15. autoclav1.1 – ‘Visitor Attractions’ (2006)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Beat-driven ambient utilising a wash of different synthesised
instrumentation, sometimes autoclav1.1 comes across as akin to a darker version
of early Moby. Perhaps with a fishnet top and some threatening tattoos on his
bald, bald head. There’s a warmth to the sound that belies the potential
bleakness of the song structure and melodies, while beats are used primarily as
a framework for the song as a whole rather than the driving force behind them.
There are a couple of other solid releases from this decade, but ‘Visitor
Attractions’ picks up this medal simply by sounding the most intuitive and
natural of all of them. The only vocals or samples present on the entire
recording reside on the track “Miags” which utilises a cut-up monologue on the
subject of misanthropy to good effect. If you are in desperate need of a good
album to listen to on headphones while walking thoughtfully past poorly-lit
allotments in the dead of night, I can’t think of a better choice than this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Nothing But Pillow Teeth”, “Dead Sea
Tears”, “We All Have A Window”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I think by now I have said all I need to about bands being
described as ‘post-hardcore’, so this entry can remain sanguine and free of
bile. Subsequent releases from Hopesfall brought with them lineup changes and
massive disappointment in equal measure, but ‘The Satellite Years’ has a
blissful sound all of its own, composed of roughly painted guitars raggedly
sewn over a background of echoes and deep black water. Vocals range from
strained, mournful singing through to biting growls – and the band is unafraid
to throw in seemingly dissonant elements such as gang vocals and hand claps
when they deem it necessary. It’s an album bounded by nothing at all, so
expansive at times that listening to it intently leaves you floating in orbit,
your limbs stretching to infinity and your eyes full of stars. The atmosphere
that pervades throughout has the feeling of being constructed instinctively
with little to no conscious thought from the band members, providing an easy
sense of honesty that pulls the LP back from a progressive brink that it is led
to with a reverb-glazed spacey production. There are many albums I absolutely
love while feeling unable to articulate precisely why, and this is one of them.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Decoys Like Curves”, “Escape Pod For
Intangibles”, “The Bending”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKHaS3a-TvuiTis8o0FEC_azvk7zoUxr5kqiGc2zfxMa7OBYtO3JG96y4e0bVITQj7k_5dhpJSRJDJgRhh5L0AR_qJiS85wNkL6vYKoct_QFrV3hWB9U-g_LdW_TAcfDashHo_fkDsTd0/s1600/WeWillBeDeadTomorrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKHaS3a-TvuiTis8o0FEC_azvk7zoUxr5kqiGc2zfxMa7OBYtO3JG96y4e0bVITQj7k_5dhpJSRJDJgRhh5L0AR_qJiS85wNkL6vYKoct_QFrV3hWB9U-g_LdW_TAcfDashHo_fkDsTd0/s200/WeWillBeDeadTomorrow.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>13. Raging Speedhorn – ‘We Will Be Dead Tomorrow’ (2002)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">UK sludgecore stalwarts Raging Speedhorn were never a band to
feel diluted or restrained, and ‘We Will Be Dead Tomorrow’ is possibly the best
example of their spit-soaked, knife-to-the-spine delivery. Rumbling bass and
deep-fried Sabbath guitars roll forwards like a rusting juggernaut driven by a
dying tiger, sustained only by irresponsible amphetamine consumption and truly vast
blood-alcohol levels. Percussion akin to constant meteor impacts strains to pin
everything into place while the screaming/screaming a bit harder dual vocal
delivery serves to hammer home what you probably already knew – this is not
music for the faint of heart or pretty of face. There’s more variation on show
that on their eponymous debut, with a couple of tracks being quick, deliberate
and approachable enough to make it as singles. It’s maniacal stuff and heavy as
well, but remains just about accessible for anyone not completely given over to
riffs ragged enough to leave raw, bleeding wounds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “The Hate Song”, “Iron Cobra”,
“Heartbreaker”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6Yv7ylXbHhgTTzWUks213Boo3uz0HllInKmPKhbAlMroa-3UAeQFCzspznmyZJSgqdXlTgL9zJEuxS8WCoAJutYzX-BeEtpPJDg6ILan6VnYJsCDEFmDAsK_KSK5QnuJsOgfo6T_tLA/s1600/ImprovisedElectronicDevice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6Yv7ylXbHhgTTzWUks213Boo3uz0HllInKmPKhbAlMroa-3UAeQFCzspznmyZJSgqdXlTgL9zJEuxS8WCoAJutYzX-BeEtpPJDg6ILan6VnYJsCDEFmDAsK_KSK5QnuJsOgfo6T_tLA/s200/ImprovisedElectronicDevice.jpg" height="200" width="198" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>12. Front Line Assembly – ‘Improvised Electronic Device’
(2010)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Improvised Electronic Device’ is a masterclass in
metal-tinged EBM, delivered by the fathers of the genre in the third decade of
their existence. It’s a reminder that though it is tempting to dismiss musical
pioneers once their initial burst of productivity and inspiration has run dry,
one should never assume they cannot continue to shock and awe you years later.
Almost effortlessly the best record put out by FLA since 1992’s definitive ‘Tactical
Neural Implant’, this album takes the prospectively disparate elements of
industrial beats, clipped and bruised metal guitar riffs and trancelike EBM
synthlines before guiding them together with such confidence you feel like
firmly kicking genre conventions back into the gutter where they belong. It’s
almost shameful that this isn’t an ability shared by their peers and
descendants, many of whom have had more than enough time to ease these
transitions into place. Backed by a gaggle of younger rivetheads (and on one
memorable track, eternal brain terrorist Al Jourgensen), scene stalwart Bill
Leeb lurches with his machine voice like some gargantuan spider constructed of
repurposed circuit boards and shattered glass. This is all especially
impressive given the lack of sometime-member and electronic guru Rhys Fulber
for this LP, since the quality of an FLA album can typically be measured
against whether he is on board or not. Perhaps the injection of youthful energy
helped make ‘Improvised Electronic Device’ what it is – regardless, it is a
glorious thing when old favourites manifest themselves again and prove that they’re
just as vital now as they ever were. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Angriff”, “Shifting Through The Lens”,
“Pressure Wave”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQQZtDazd29mYTTuFhYSVJJTObhbdZInQQLWLGyjX2Xxuj8YO9V1KszLErFapK3SHGIWTcVGHHBweFeEW_uxtQ1c0SxSAjyrwjW9jUIrD-eguq84-xStRRNLZm_b-VCejP0XDn3vLXEY/s1600/McluskyDoDallas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQQZtDazd29mYTTuFhYSVJJTObhbdZInQQLWLGyjX2Xxuj8YO9V1KszLErFapK3SHGIWTcVGHHBweFeEW_uxtQ1c0SxSAjyrwjW9jUIrD-eguq84-xStRRNLZm_b-VCejP0XDn3vLXEY/s200/McluskyDoDallas.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>11. mclusky – ‘mclusky Do Dallas’ (2002)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh, mclusky. You are missed, in the very special way that
comes with leaving a decent swathe of follow-up bands in your wake. But though
the former members have gone on to great and good things (on this very list, in
fact) nothing may ever match writing and singing the lyric “Cartoon monkeys got
you hard / It must have been the hair.” They were a dry heave to the face of
the alt. rock mainstream, a punk-tinged raw noise in the middle of the night
that left you shivering under the covers and masturbating furiously to drive
away the demons. At times schizophrenic in the best (and most incorrect) sense
of the word due to having two songwriters at war with each other, ‘mclusky Do
Dallas’ makes the most of its bubonic Steve Albini production and embraces you
like a seductive co-worker in evil clown facepaint. Guitars and bass played by
devious insects writhe alongside bile-strewn oddly intoned vocals under a vast
cracked lens made by socially awkward scientists for purposes best left
unmentioned. It would be great music journalism cliché if I could confidently
say there was some beating, tender emotional heart under all this. That there
was something to tether to other than a creeping sense of addictive discomfort.
But no. No. There is just mclusky. Stood there, trousers down and blunt
instruments in hand. Waiting for you to stop screaming so they can tell you
what is wrong with your haircut inbetween each crushed nerve and broken bone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Dethink To Survive”, “To Hell With Good
Intentions”, “Alan Is A Cowboy Killer”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-21727244682339723802011-12-14T15:55:00.000+00:002014-01-29T10:50:15.598+00:00<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.com/2011/12/atcbs-top-100-albums-of-bastards-decade_14.html">ATCB's Top 100 Albums Of The Bastard's Decade: 30-21</a> </span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Presenting the eighth installment in this ongoing, self-obsessed series. A Spotify playlist featuring all available recommended tracks is being built daily alongside the list, and can be found by <a href="http://open.spotify.com/user/organica/playlist/26E8KxBFao44lRweshbU2K" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">clicking here</a>.</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwK9lHTP8DSVIF3lXGxTZC89eiGsjURU7Nf1hyphenhyphen8FYpd7R8tYCci3vi3c9RSEU8Bv_OuSq10TdPS97SBeA2qpe61mt8jFjMMUbuMk9Z3QGGWvePCOeP6NmEodfF5PvokDe62eey0GngeGU/s1600/Hatebreedtheriseofbrutality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwK9lHTP8DSVIF3lXGxTZC89eiGsjURU7Nf1hyphenhyphen8FYpd7R8tYCci3vi3c9RSEU8Bv_OuSq10TdPS97SBeA2qpe61mt8jFjMMUbuMk9Z3QGGWvePCOeP6NmEodfF5PvokDe62eey0GngeGU/s200/Hatebreedtheriseofbrutality.jpg" height="195" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>30. Hatebreed – ‘The Rise Of Brutality’ (2003)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">This album is the aural equivalent of doing 500 press-ups in
a row. On a concrete surface, strewn with broken glass. The testosterone given
off by 10 seconds of exposure is enough to drive you to wear wifebeater vests
and cargo shorts for the rest of your life. Just one song will expand your neck
muscles – specifically, those used to gurn and bellow – by up to 300%. It’s
hardcore thrown so hard into metal that it might as well just stop pretending
and admit it’s the latter. There’s far more Slayer in here than Minor Threat by
a factor of infinity plus one. This is better than the rest of Hatebreed’s 21<sup>st</sup>
century output, since their other releases might only cause you to punch strangers
and not your loved ones. It’s all a matter of perspective, but I have a
perverse fondness for any album that turns me into a whirlwind of raging fists.
I mean that literally. The only reason you haven’t heard of it happening is
because there are never any surviving witnesses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Facing What Consumes You”, “Doomsayer”, “This
Is Now”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipcwiFnpveUYv_wLKvviHMX13TLU5F7MpRpLIkPzFnYv3tSzaHhO338Xpdg3x_swntQT6G1g-8V-6li0QQ46mHSA1hWIle2IWPWSyJZXfXf17WpoO3yKD61o9NUUA4acQmG0leznb0j0/s1600/Will_Haven_-_Carpe_diem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhipcwiFnpveUYv_wLKvviHMX13TLU5F7MpRpLIkPzFnYv3tSzaHhO338Xpdg3x_swntQT6G1g-8V-6li0QQ46mHSA1hWIle2IWPWSyJZXfXf17WpoO3yKD61o9NUUA4acQmG0leznb0j0/s200/Will_Haven_-_Carpe_diem.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>29. Will Haven – ‘Carpe Diem’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Carpe Diem’ is probably the most easy to listen to of all
Will Haven albums. But that’s not really saying much for this bunch of
experimental sludge metal noise type people. Their songs give off a sense that
they’re being played backwards, which is probably both an acquired taste and a
specific form of madness unique to me. Sharing common elements with fellow
Sacramento bands Deftones and Far, they are firmly heavier than both while
utilising the same atmospheric swamp and odd rhythmic structures. This album
saw them sprinkle small bits of electronic noise over the top of their songs
and strip back their material to a slightly more accessible level - all without
sacrificing their oil-soaked gravel guitars, tightened rubber band bass and
Grady Avenell’s ridiculously distinctive howl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Carpe Diem”, “Dressed In Night Clothes”,
“Moving To Montana”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>28. The Decemberists – ‘The Crane Wife’ (2006)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I like including albums like this on my list, for no other
reason than that people might say to each other “He likes THEM? That I did not
expect.” They would then turn to each other, kiss and establish a lifelong sexual
relationship. Because that’s the kind of thing my writing drives people to. The
Decemberists have a sound that could only really be called indie folk rock, and
sing immensely twee songs penned about folk tales and oddments. The stories
they conjure up seem permanently stuck in that timeless age usually occupied
only by fairy stories, and there is an innocence to them despite their frequent
use of death, violence and lost love. ‘The Crane Wife’ is their most coherent
album, centred around two song cycles and lacking some of the self-indulgence
that comes with the territory of their musical style. It’s love-it-or-hate-it
stuff composed entirely of straightforward instrumentation and structure, and I
find something really appealing about that – the closest touchstone I can think
of is obscure-indie darlings Neutral Milk Hotel. But you probably shouldn’t
judge it as falling on either side of your taste barrier until you have
listened to it while reclining on a small wooden boat, drifting slowly along a
Victorian riverbank on a slowly dying summer’s day. Get back to me on how that
goes for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “The Crane Wife 3”, “Summersong”, “Sons
& Daughters”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4zoi4dSRzgKIbyb_8bnZeiPf0Carj0brCKL7sCtNw9vCZxKiLWp7x_slhOmVmZuAozgikMf6BqfnrqK0oUeGSukZSJrA6q5aPwpMv3hkm38r3FedujB8_1SF9xLmK5znddv9NHT2k0sM/s1600/5a1f75d805e12f2d843eeb0a04ab6b67_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4zoi4dSRzgKIbyb_8bnZeiPf0Carj0brCKL7sCtNw9vCZxKiLWp7x_slhOmVmZuAozgikMf6BqfnrqK0oUeGSukZSJrA6q5aPwpMv3hkm38r3FedujB8_1SF9xLmK5znddv9NHT2k0sM/s200/5a1f75d805e12f2d843eeb0a04ab6b67_full.jpg" height="196" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>27. ohGr – ‘SunnyPsyOp’ (2003)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Nivek Ogre’s solo project is industrial only in the loosest
sense of the word, with speedy beats and squelching synths covering both the bass
and the melody. It’s not quite electroclash or synthpop either, but some unholy
union of all three. Bizarrely, ‘SunnyPsyOp’ at times also sounds a little like
mainstream r n’b. Oh, I give up. It’s just bloody weird but accessible and
poppy at the same time. You don’t care anyway. You’re just sat there, smiling
and nodding like some fucking bedazzled dog. What it comes down to is that this
might be the only album to which the terms ‘industrial’ and ‘shake your booty’
can both be applied. It’s intriguing and quirky and mental but also friendly,
like a scab-covered hobo inviting you back to his corrugated iron shack to
drink tea and browse his collection of deformed animal drawings. If that doesn’t
intrigue you, you might be visiting the wrong site.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “HiLO”, “JaKO”, “EnDai”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqom7xVRJ-s2pjiDlGIvg_O1mdWelMh8TAJc3hgsLbeABHfp1XEOxl-VIa3vj7NqKtcAgjrK5GGQywMIHL4A_m1H1EW0Wi6BcL33JbJh8SPLvqncmzSCxhT94Z14AL_toToBZed2GZlo0/s1600/bleed-american.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqom7xVRJ-s2pjiDlGIvg_O1mdWelMh8TAJc3hgsLbeABHfp1XEOxl-VIa3vj7NqKtcAgjrK5GGQywMIHL4A_m1H1EW0Wi6BcL33JbJh8SPLvqncmzSCxhT94Z14AL_toToBZed2GZlo0/s200/bleed-american.jpg" height="178" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>26. Jimmy Eat World – ‘Bleed American’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Sunny and glowing emo rock from the masters of the genre, ‘Bleed
American’ marked both a renewed pop-punk angle to the band’s sound and the
subsequent explosion of their popularity into the alternative mainstream. It’s
not a popularity they have managed to quite hold on to, and this album in all
likelihood remains their commercial high point. That’s not to say their
consistently solid later releases from the decade aren’t worthy of them –
indeed, it was more or less a coin toss whether to include this or their latest
LP ‘Invented’ which manages to consolidate their later, more rock-oriented
sound with that of their 1999 masterpiece ‘Clarity’. But ‘Bleed American’ (or ‘Jimmy
Eat World’, if you bought the bizarrely renamed post-9/11 re-release) clinches
it, since almost every single track on it is a simple but elegant lesson in how
to construct a catchy, touching pop song. If this album is to be believed, the
only thing Americans bleed is sunshine and bittersweet glory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Bleed American”, “A Praise Chorus”, “Sweetness”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>25. Neurosis – ‘A Sun That Never Sets’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I use a lot of adjectives in my writing. You may have noticed
this. A lot of them are rough hyperbole spun out beyond reasonable lengths in
order to kickstart the correct image or atmosphere. But when I refer to this
band, and more specifically this album, as ‘primal’ – I mean exactly that.
Towering slabs of stone carved out with guitars and drums, intricately indented
with shamanic vocals that wail from the depths of some forgotten age. It’s
music shaped by old earth, fresh blood and burnt offerings that grows
organically into a vast pillar of flame, dwarfing the listener against a
backdrop of pulsating red stars. This is tribal metal in every sense of the
words, noise created by tapping into some internal Neolithic wanderer before
being rudely translated via modern instrumentation. Closing track “Stones From
The Sky” chants out a neverending melodic crush that is brought to an abrupt
close by piercing shrieks of machine noise, an effect roughly approximate to the
culture shock inherent in ending this album to return to the 21<sup>st</sup>
century.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “A Sun That Never Sets”, “Watchfire”, “Stones
From The Sky”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxK3r8Mw-XvAGd1RFthTOCLA9kfzP-tO0PkHqxW1dJYXiUYBFy7Zy8FIBiW1qNcVXaK66jGD0jywqMpr3jlgas0BHMGhYiR-bv3EG2QjJtY6a9VpwW5jrXWCESb0Ri960y9gWAkrnRXY/s1600/CoheedAndCambriaSSTB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxK3r8Mw-XvAGd1RFthTOCLA9kfzP-tO0PkHqxW1dJYXiUYBFy7Zy8FIBiW1qNcVXaK66jGD0jywqMpr3jlgas0BHMGhYiR-bv3EG2QjJtY6a9VpwW5jrXWCESb0Ri960y9gWAkrnRXY/s200/CoheedAndCambriaSSTB.jpg" height="198" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>24. Coheed And Cambria – ‘The Second Stage Turbine Blade’
(2002)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I spout off a lot about peculiar genre classifications and
how they link in to people’s perceptions of bands. One of my lovely little
bugbears concerns Coheed And Cambria and whatever piss-soiled music hack
decided to describe them as ‘emo’. Whatever interpretation of the term you pick
up on, its only real link to this band is that it is constructed of the same
basic modern Latin alphabet letters as the band’s name. Coheed And Cambria are
a bizarre hybrid of prog rock, pop-punk and modern alt.rock, all jammed in
together with Claudio Sanchez’s at-times gender defying vocals. They are a prog
band in more than just a sonic sense as well, with all their albums linked
together as part of a huge semi-incomprehensible sci-fi story. ‘The Second
Stage Turbine Blade’ is their debut release, and was picked over a couple of
other excellent albums this decade purely because it sounds more raw and fuzzy.
And we like raw and fuzzy here at ATCB. From an initial gobsmacking blast in
the first four tracks there is some meandering loss in quality, but the album
as a whole has hiked its way further up the list just by simply not sounding
like anything else out there. That’s something else we like at ATCB.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Time Consumer”, “Devil In Jersey City”, “Everything
Evil”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>23. Skinny Puppy – ‘The Greater Wrong Of The Right’ (2004)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">The fact that many Skinny Puppy tracks are actually coherent
pieces of music feels almost like an afterthought – contrasting pieces of
industrial noise and fractured vocals somehow synchronising into an accidental
whole. With ‘The Greater Wrong Of The Right’ this chaotic element was
downplayed somewhat, allowing the listener a glimpse into what a world would be
like if they chose to become a more straightforward industrial act with metal
bits thrown in. The answer? What it lacks in innovative soundscapes it more
than makes up for with powerful and precise songcraft. Previous records such as
‘Rabies’ and ‘The Process’ dabbled with this, but for the first time they
sounded as though they could play an alt. mainstream festival slot and not walk
off to a sea of bemused faces. There are still random sounds aplenty from cEvin
Key, and Nivek Ogre’s voice remains a heavily processed random lyric generator.
But if you were to try to convert an average unbeliever to the world of Skinny
Puppy, this LP is definitely your best chance of doing so without destroying
their mind like some Lovecraftian tentacle-faced nasty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “I’mmortal”, “Goneja”, “DaddyuWarbash”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-DPSnbI-WQs15jPUNlWlE0hHN-qZ4QlWeObLx0agvtp0EN872IP7kWx8p14j0tXCEy55E6xHgXKYpdBnfPx1SHlTXSyJh_Wco7UpO5Hdcp62gkx_mqqUA-mLM8tM2-J_EIgHOE3MvJU/s1600/00620dccce75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-DPSnbI-WQs15jPUNlWlE0hHN-qZ4QlWeObLx0agvtp0EN872IP7kWx8p14j0tXCEy55E6xHgXKYpdBnfPx1SHlTXSyJh_Wco7UpO5Hdcp62gkx_mqqUA-mLM8tM2-J_EIgHOE3MvJU/s200/00620dccce75.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>22. Invasion – ‘The Master Alchemist’ (2009)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I have raved about these guys on the august pages of this
site before, but here’s a chance to do it again. They’re a threepiece stoner metal
act who pitch concise blasts of groove-ridden riffage in your face, topped with
almost Motown-esque female vocals and monolithic drums. Oh, and their lyrics
are about sorcerors and dragons and stuff. Which is always great value. ‘The
Master Alchemist’ is their debut release, and manages to deliver a refreshing pure
rock roundhouse kick from a hefty army boot inscribed with secret arcane
sigils. I have a serious thing for excellent albums that clock in around the
twenty minute mark – this does so, and the only reason there aren’t more on the
list is because hardly anyone seems to be able to write short, punchy tracks in
the 21<sup>st</sup> century. Invasion certainly can, and for that reason and a
multitude of others they deserve your attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Conjure War”, “Spells Of Deception”, “Evil
Forest”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9C2Tu3wbjg48CPIqXgIZ3UqFJlRL9S2Wi-MGinnCEs3wlxak3aFPwC90Q4X13cCluUaDAaA33zEjCe7OW0M2ESRcAEVm0IgrW23PaxzW_S8q712JudCU2zaHwFHTQ5Tnp72oQN83fIw/s1600/Godflesh2001%252BHymns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9C2Tu3wbjg48CPIqXgIZ3UqFJlRL9S2Wi-MGinnCEs3wlxak3aFPwC90Q4X13cCluUaDAaA33zEjCe7OW0M2ESRcAEVm0IgrW23PaxzW_S8q712JudCU2zaHwFHTQ5Tnp72oQN83fIw/s200/Godflesh2001%252BHymns.jpg" height="196" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>21. Godflesh – ‘Hymns’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Godflesh were an act who didn’t believe in stagnating or
sitting on their laurels as God-Emperors of wreckingball-heavy industrial
metal, and ‘Hymns’ displays this with ease. It’s a stripped-down battlefield of
stabbing guitars, nauseatingly churning bass and drums that can switch between
precisely clipped and primordially tribal at the blink of an eye. All this is
overseen by Justin Broadrick’s voice, sometimes falling like a wounded angel
deep in the mix and sometimes bellowing with barely restrained violence over
the top of it. Musically it carries elements of previous releases – the metal
hypnosis of ‘Songs Of Love And Hate’, the melodic underpinning of ‘Selfless’ –
but as with all of their LPs it is definitely a unique shuddering beast. One of
the most interesting aspects to ‘Hymns’ (interesting for Broadrick nerds, at
least) is how it is an overt stepping stone towards his later work as Jesu.
Some of the songs could flawlessly slot into a Jesu album, and indeed the
closing track carries that name. It is therefore ironic that said closing track
is as punishing, brutal and rending a song as Godflesh ever produced. It’s a
leaden battering ram that crushes your limbs and leaves you unable to do
anything but writhe in anticipation for the next blow. “You’re fucked. You’ve
lost.” spits Broadrick at the end</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;">, over and over. Since this was the last thing released by Godflesh before disbanding, he was 100% correct.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Defeated”, “Regal”, “Jesu”</i></span></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-6342068543325739802011-12-13T16:16:00.000+00:002014-01-29T10:52:22.347+00:00<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.com/2011/12/atcbs-top-100-albums-of-bastards-decade_13.html">ATCB's Top 100 Albums Of The Bastard's Decade: 40-31</a> </span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Presenting the seventh installment in this ongoing, self-obsessed series. A Spotify playlist featuring all available recommended tracks is being built daily alongside the list, and can be found by <a href="http://open.spotify.com/user/organica/playlist/26E8KxBFao44lRweshbU2K" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">clicking here</a>.</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyS0QklY9ZsBMVflxBccChRfo7k448HrPYmbRGEVM26LxczDS1uPc2APr4hf1kjENXn0ZV1u0lnDc7NqhIU03r0CmhOxI_Qt-aHzxcnWkpchn205NBhf3-RI2J-Sd0PmbE-LaeLPZw8H0/s1600/Cyclefly_Crave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyS0QklY9ZsBMVflxBccChRfo7k448HrPYmbRGEVM26LxczDS1uPc2APr4hf1kjENXn0ZV1u0lnDc7NqhIU03r0CmhOxI_Qt-aHzxcnWkpchn205NBhf3-RI2J-Sd0PmbE-LaeLPZw8H0/s200/Cyclefly_Crave.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;"><b>40. Cyclefly – ‘Crave’ (2002)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Cyclefly’s 1999 debut ‘Generation Sap’ was a glam-tinged alt. rock gem that went undiscovered by many, and this follow-up certainly went in a slightly more mainstream direction. It’s a weaker record but still packed with a blend of ideas and sounds that carries on sounding fresh nine years later. Declan O’Shea’s pinched vocals bring to mind the likes of Billy Corgan and Brian Molko, and while a musical comparison to Smashing Pumpkins and Placebo overall would not be entirely unbelievable Cyclefly carved out their own niche confidently. Indeed, it is interesting to note – spoiler alert - that neither of those bands released anything in this decade decent enough to make this list. I can also confidently spoil that this is the only album on this list to feature a guest performance from Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington. What a shocker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Selophane Fixtures”, “Drive”, “Crowns”</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNKHSAoAOnkx9205maTN5t2ZgBYa8IYKc6gg2Ob_BulnOvmsWEHZmKjOYNb4ZryBmbQ6Bf9OuXTsDljVElw6x-hWkpV4zWuh8H6p5A7k6yB9FvFU65Qn9IbFmjyahWamTc1Dh4jRH_qc/s1600/1050814-seabound-double-crosser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNKHSAoAOnkx9205maTN5t2ZgBYa8IYKc6gg2Ob_BulnOvmsWEHZmKjOYNb4ZryBmbQ6Bf9OuXTsDljVElw6x-hWkpV4zWuh8H6p5A7k6yB9FvFU65Qn9IbFmjyahWamTc1Dh4jRH_qc/s200/1050814-seabound-double-crosser.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>39. Seabound – ‘Double-Crosser’ (2006)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Seabound specialise in bright, glittering electropop that can
occasionally pump out fast-paced floorfillers but it mostly comfortable with
more measured, sombre songs that manage to steer clear of the term ‘ballad’. ‘Double-Crosser’
fine-tuned their sound – and while their releases are always subtle displays of
excellence rather than proud, forceful anthems, the tracks collected here
brought Seabound to a potential push through to the higher echelon of electro
acts. The vocals are warmer than most of their peers, and their synthlines wash
beneath them like an underground silken sea. One of the most consistent albums
on this list, this is end-to-end quality blissed electronica. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Doubleplusungood”, “Domination”, “Castaway”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Iron & Wine is the country-folk musings of Samuel Beam, a
man with prodigious talent and an even more prodigious beard. ‘Our Endless
Numbered Days’ is a stripped-back release that is mostly acoustic guitar and
his semi-whispered vocals, weaving simple images and experiences together into
spellbinding songs that linger in your head long after they have any right to
be there. Listening to this LP comes pretty close to glimpsing a gleam of sunshine
through rustling summer leaves. It’s always gentle, but it is a gentleness that
carries a power with it that can put other, more intense records to shame. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Naked As We Came”, “Love And Some Verses”,
“Passing Afternoon”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>37. Therapy? – ‘Never Apologise Never Explain’ (2004)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">While Therapy?’s 21<sup>st</sup> century output has been
inconsistent to say the least, ‘Never Apologise Never Explain’ rose above this
inconsistency to provide a solid dark punk rock record. The tempo is sped up
from their previous couple of albums and the bleak n’ roll trio get settled
into some good old-fashioned sonic abuse. It’s not exactly a harrowing piece of
work, since audience-bating anthems like “Rock You Monkeys” sit alongside the
more claustrophobic urgency of “Polar Bear” – but then most of their best work
has been built on the teetering brink between blind grinning optimism and utter
cataclysmic despair. That’s where Therapy? live and breathe, and it’s a damn
fun place to visit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Die Like A Motherfucker”, “Long Distance”,
“This Ship Is Sinking”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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(2009)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">The second mclusky sequel act on this list, and one a lot
closer in sound to the Welsh bile-rockers. More driven and less angular than
their 2007 debut ‘Curses’, this record is pretty close to the feeling you get
when a complete stranger comes to within two inches of your face and does an
uninterrupted ten-second scream at the top of their lungs. While touching you
inappropriately. A mixture of punky body-popping spasms and oddball
keyboard-accentuated tics, one cannot completely ignore an album that contains
a song confronting the dilemma that Satanists face when trying to get decent
babysitting for their nights of wild devil-worship. ‘Travels With Myself And
Another’ leaves you giggling in a worryingly high pitch, banging your head
violently and wrinkling your forehead in disgust at the same time. That’s a good
night out by anyone’s standards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Arming Eritrea”, “Throwing Bricks At
Trains”, “You Need Satan More Than He Needs You”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>35. Rammstein – ‘Mutter’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Mutter’ saw Rammstein expand the operatic bombast of their
definitive <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neue_Deutsche_H%C3%A4rte" title="Neue Deutsche Härte"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;">Neue Deutsche Härte</span></a> to defy the usual
boundaries of English-speaking metal/rivetheads worldwide and deliver a
breakout release that capitalised on the increased success of previous album ‘Sehnsucht’
to plant them – sweating, dirty and immolated – front and centre on the world
stage of heavy music. It’s a tribute to their ability to spot-weld punishing riffs,
stomping drums and booming vocals together, and this is displayed in fine form
on this LP. It picks up the raw phosphorescent energy of Rammstein on stage and
flings it at the listener, pounding its fists firmly into its chest before
barking a single Teutonic command at you for which there is no safeword. To
this day, I cannot think of a single other rock/metal act singing in a
non-English language who can fill a dancefloor or a stadium in the
English-speaking world. In itself that is wretched, but it also shows just how
damn good Rammstein are at what they do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Mein Herz Brennt”, “Sonne”, “Ich Will”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>34. System Of A Down – ‘Toxicity’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I still can’t quite believe that music as interesting and
vital as System Of A Down actually broke through to the alternative mainstream,
but with ‘Toxicity’ they did just that – exposing millions to their epileptic
Armenian metal grind. It builds on the Middle Eastern-flavoured political
thrust of their debut while packing in as many hook-laden riffs and quirky
vocal freakouts as possible. It’s also head and shoulders above everything the
band have released since, with their second best from this decade being a
collection of songs stripped out of the ‘Toxicity’ sessions. There are slight
reference points throughout the LP to link into the sounds of other bands (the
angularity of Fugazi, the precision of Helmet) but really System Of A Down
stand on their own as a sub-genre of one. For a band as popular as they are,
that is almost unheard of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Prison Song”, “Needles”, “Jet Pilot”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>33. Million Dead – ‘A Song To Ruin’ (2003)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Nowadays vocalist Frank Turner is much more well-known for
his solo work, but in the early 2000s he fronted melodic garage punkers Million
Dead – political commentary equally sang and screamed over the top of crackling
riffs and a measured rhythm section. Far superior to the concluding release
that followed in 2005, ‘A Song To Ruin’ is a raw and blistering mix of the
abstract and physical. Squirming with youthful frustration and quashed
rebellion, it’s surprising how listening to this in 2011 makes no difference to
listening to it at the time of release. The vitriol and energy is still apt,
still honest and still damaging. Good for Million Dead, bad for how little we
have progressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Pornography For Cowards”, “Charlie &
The Propaganda Myth Machine”, “A Song To Ruin”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoOtbHUwWaWnxXJia-xI5P-iwfNq9pRblO620OkvIMkdsHfp40ETx0FMlsaa3f6UtuvqCzNAucYlg9RHGpORx4iO4shSTCBLqPH_jQjZRbSEv8V6gKiO7ETfQeMqVmRx93bia4rGONy94/s1600/Deftones-selftitled_albumcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoOtbHUwWaWnxXJia-xI5P-iwfNq9pRblO620OkvIMkdsHfp40ETx0FMlsaa3f6UtuvqCzNAucYlg9RHGpORx4iO4shSTCBLqPH_jQjZRbSEv8V6gKiO7ETfQeMqVmRx93bia4rGONy94/s200/Deftones-selftitled_albumcover.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>32. Deftones – ‘Deftones’ (2003)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Deftones had long left behind their completely inaccurate
labelling of ‘nu-metal’ by the time this record hit the shelves, but if anyone
had any remote doubts left then a mix of crushingly heavy guitars and sublimely
ethereal shoegazing was sure to do the trick. Chino Moreno’s vocals are far
from the only appeal of Deftones, but they truly excel here. At times a ragged
stream-of-consciousness croon, at others a gutwrenching scream of loving and
sinful anguish. The guitars, bass and soundscapes all wash over the percussion
and vocals like a multi-coloured glistening tide that leaves you gasping for
air, stranded in some beautiful alien land. This eponymous release faced stiff
competition from 2010’s return to form ‘Diamond Eyes’, but in the end this is
the more solid and consistent release.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Minerva”, “Good Morning Beautiful”, “When
Girls Telephone Boys”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Kings of the futurepop genre, Anglo-Irish duo VNV Nation have
spent most of the last ten years meandering through electroclash and EBM with
only one foot placed in their glory days. That’s not to say they have dwindled
in popularity or record sales – I am sure the opposite is true – but it feels
like the last truly fresh and necessary release they made was ‘Futureperfect’.
It carries the counter-Imperialistic mix of classical and electronic influences
that catapulted them into such a striking but divisive position amongst
electroheads worldwide. There are storming dancefloor monsters alongside
softer, twinkling creatures of dust and starlight. What marks this album out
beyond others of the genre is how well these styles are blended together into a
coherent whole by the lyrical themes and performance of Ronan Harris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Epicentre”, “Electronaut”, “Beloved”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-584941436461766064.post-72679139511055968532011-12-12T13:49:00.002+00:002014-01-29T10:53:22.932+00:00<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://ayeteeceebee.blogspot.com/2011/12/atcbs-top-100-albums-of-bastards-decade_12.html">ATCB's Top 100 Albums Of The Bastard's Decade: 50-41</a> </span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Presenting the sixth installment in this ongoing, self-obsessed series. A Spotify playlist featuring all available recommended tracks is being built daily alongside the list, and can be found by <a href="http://open.spotify.com/user/organica/playlist/26E8KxBFao44lRweshbU2K" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">clicking here</a>.</i></span></span></div>
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Reaction – ‘As We Fall’ (2006)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">This album
is the closest thing I have heard to rock music made purely with beats, synths
and vocals. It has a driving dynamic and energy rarely found in electronic
music, which is refreshing enough to easily push the release through the slight
edge of repetition that it is bound by. There’s little edge to be heard, but there
is also something to be said for music that sounds like it has been spat out by
machines rather than ground out by fetid, dirty people. Overall it builds a
smooth cyberpunk sensibility that many other acts would kill for – this is
arena rock made for near-future hacker antiheroes with chrome implants and
mirrorshades. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended
Tracks: “Collapse”, “Judas”, “Never Ending”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>49. Ministry
– ‘Houses of the Molé (2004)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Al
Jourgensen returned to the filth and fury of Ministry minus long-term collaborator
Paul Barker for an album inspired by his fairly overt loathing for the American
administration of the early 2000s. This would eventually become a trilogy of
albums with diminishing returns, but ‘Houses of the Molé remains a piercing
shriek of industrial metal political outrage. Packed with automated drums and
razor-sharp riffs than revolve between mid-paced swing and hypervelocity guitar
rounds, it was clear that Mr Jourgensen was mad as hell and wasn’t gonna take
it any more. Opening track “No W” was akin to a call to arms, one which opened
up a whole new generation to the cleansing, mechanised power of Ministry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Tracks: “No W”, “Warp City”, “World”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodGvcfuVHyRLqzFMiGHYqgJwF23gpCEYzwWen8PpN9zFRq30htXNwWv2O8gURsQaDdshqf3twZiO3sPySWUiHxlmd7FFgrMxSrzkTv-5nNAStftTgS-0XGCEDuRDxmRzhysXCTDkSBPE/s1600/WorshipAndTribute.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodGvcfuVHyRLqzFMiGHYqgJwF23gpCEYzwWen8PpN9zFRq30htXNwWv2O8gURsQaDdshqf3twZiO3sPySWUiHxlmd7FFgrMxSrzkTv-5nNAStftTgS-0XGCEDuRDxmRzhysXCTDkSBPE/s200/WorshipAndTribute.jpeg" height="170" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>48. Glassjaw
– ‘Worship And Tribute’ (2002)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Glassjaw’s
2000 debut ‘Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Silence’ was the ultimate
breakup album – if the main thrust of your breakup was a desire to render your
former other half into their component atomic pieces. For ‘Worship And Tribute’
the band worked in a great deal more variation, both musically and lyrically.
There’s still plenty of chaotic ‘post-hardcore’ (bleeeeeah) on display, but
this is tempered by a genuinely startling ability to work melodic hooks and almost
easy listening-guitar lines into the mix. Daryl Palumbo’s vocals can veer
between saccharine croon and wounded animal at the drop of a hat - and while
many artists would end up sounding uncomfortably inconsistent from this
approach, Glassjaw just sound mercurial. In a way, this is the heaviest pop
album you will ever hear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended
Tracks: “Tip Your Bartender”, “Cosmopolitan Bloodloss”, “Radio Cambodia”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>47. Paradise Lost – ‘Symbol Of Life’ (2002)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I think few fans would struggle to argue that Paradise Lost’s
21<sup>st</sup> century output pales in comparison to the material from the ‘90s.
They’re a band who have undergone a shift from gothic metal heroes to an
ill-advised but not entirely unsuccessful electronic pop act and then back
again. Recent albums have been decent enough, but for my money ‘Symbol Of Life’
marked a transition point for them that might have been worth sticking to.
Marking a balancing act between their brief electronic period and their metal
past/future, it’s an industrial metal release with gothic overtones that suits
both their songwriting and their innate brooding sound. It’s a shame more LPs
weren’t produced that followed up on this angle, but then sometimes it is
better to keep a decent piece of experimentation to itself, lest follow-up
attempts seriously muddy the waters. A bonus edition of the album also
concluded with two of the best covers I have ever heard – a really shouldn’t
work but does anyway version of Bronski Beat’s “Small Town Boy” and a darkly
majestic rendering of Dead Can Dance’s “Xavier”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Isolate”, “Pray Nightfall”, “Channel For
The Pain”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bo1-3ShO2g1eBOuUEWQFvVYuC2SmBNSImvDPshJrXjXZux79zR_nbZYPzZ2GuvcilqfVmddgqVKyf32oT3NhlvtXFfkjjthbJx4RszPoOyfY4ugidmTDedg58kFFc0tfnGqTqlmC0Ew/s1600/Veneergonzalezcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bo1-3ShO2g1eBOuUEWQFvVYuC2SmBNSImvDPshJrXjXZux79zR_nbZYPzZ2GuvcilqfVmddgqVKyf32oT3NhlvtXFfkjjthbJx4RszPoOyfY4ugidmTDedg58kFFc0tfnGqTqlmC0Ew/s200/Veneergonzalezcover.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>46. José González – ‘Veneer’ (2003)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s not that unusual for an artist to reach greater global
popularity with a cover song. What is quite unusual is for the cover to be of a
track by another relatively unknown artist. With a version of The Knife’s “Heartbeats”,
José González made a decent advertising campaign from Sony more than just a
load of balls. Bouncing, brightly coloured balls. It’s lifted off debut album ‘Veneer’,
which is a consistent and gently emotive collection of acoustic indie-folk
pieces picked out delicately against the backdrop of González’s understated,
almost mumbling vocal delivery. It’s not energetic material by any stretch of
the imagination, but it is a hell of a chill-out LP and almost custom made for
lazy spring days spent lying under trees like other people do in other
advertising campaigns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Remain”, “Lovestain”, “Heartbeats”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>45. Echo Image – ‘Compuphonic’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Compuphonic’ is an almost unbearably sweet and glistening
synthpop release from a group of Norwegian electro types who have really
listened to far too much Erasure. Still, I’m certainly not going to hold that
against them. It’s happy, bouncy, poppy and possibly mostly constructed from balloons,
bubbles and small cute animals. Your enjoyment of this music may strongly
depend on how much you are willing to dance to it flamboyantly in a tight white
t-shirt, but despite never having done this (yet) I am perfectly satisfied with
placing it this high on my list purely because of the massive corny grin this
album manages to put on my face every time I listen to it. Admittedly, my
massive corny grins look like slight smirks to other people. But the intention
is there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Standing Alone”, “Messing With Love”, “Understand”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>44. Brand New – ‘Your Favourite Weapon’ (2001)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Emo’ is a term that gets a lot of hate these days. It’s also
usually used completely incorrectly, even for a genre name that has flitted
between different sounds. Perhaps they broke its heart and it had to move on
and write some very sad lyrics about the old sound with the new sound.
Regardless, Brand New is a band that would have been described as emo in 2001.
This is shortly after emo was more like pop-punk, and before it became more
like metalcore. It’s almost too confusing for even my mighty brain to handle. ‘Your
Favourite Weapon’ is a strong debut of alt. indie rock laced through with wry
emotional lyrics and bittersweet nostalgia, coming as nothing more than an album
comprised entirely of teenage experiences filtered through a soft-focus Hollywood
lens. The songwriting is both very catchy and almost naively fresh, and the
easy wit of the wordplay more than makes up for the self-indulgence of the
lyrical content. It can pull you back to your youth with shiftless ease, and
that’s something to be valued when you’re as aged and misanthropic as me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Mix Tape”, “Seventy Times 7”, “Soco
Amaretto Lime”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIylQlSjjDZjxMebPHPbUv70-7zaNE9GQFf5Mry8MStP1fC58B8N7feYfaCNYbuKgN30vG9th7iqgawi0lvqNMwVajOGpZSYEewc1kIzeNiLrUY7_18uHtQ60zOtdwAFU5BesFDvJvo4/s1600/FlightoftheConchordsAlbum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIylQlSjjDZjxMebPHPbUv70-7zaNE9GQFf5Mry8MStP1fC58B8N7feYfaCNYbuKgN30vG9th7iqgawi0lvqNMwVajOGpZSYEewc1kIzeNiLrUY7_18uHtQ60zOtdwAFU5BesFDvJvo4/s200/FlightoftheConchordsAlbum.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>43. Flight Of The Conchords – ‘Flight Of The Conchords’
(2008)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">As a rule, I don’t really like comedy music. It’s almost
always less funny than it believes itself to be, and typically the actual music
suffers from a lack of attention and development. I’d much rather someone try
to tell me a joke as is than try to come up with a tune to set it to. Flight Of
The Conchords are a massive Kiwi-shaped exception to this. Genuinely great
musicians with a fine-tuned ear for genre pastiche and understated, almost
apathetic wordplay – given that exposure to their songs is typically granted
from a live setting or their equally awesome TV show, it’s especially
gratifying that they work just as well from a recorded LP. The material reels
between acoustic folk to electropop to hip-hop to ragga, and hits every nail
square on the head along the way. This debut release proved less varied but
higher in quality than 2009’s follow-up ‘I Told You I Was Freaky’, I suspect
simply due to having been more fine-tuned over years on the global comedy
circuit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Inner City Pressure”, “Boom”, “Business
Time”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>42. Puscifer – ‘V Is For Vagina’ (2007)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">A side project from Maynard James Keenan (of Tool and A
Perfect Circle fame) was probably never going to be straightforward and
obvious, but many fans were a little bit taken aback by the quasi-industrial
country-influenced electronica of Puscifer. Akin to a take on trip-hop that
strips out all elements of its UK sound and fries it in greasy but filling
Americana, it’s certainly difficult to pigeonhole. This is no bad thing in and
of itself - and I suspect its intractability and genre-defying sound is both
purposeful and performed with a great deal of glee by Keenan, who mostly steers
clear of his trademark soaring vocals to softly sing his way through odd little
tunes laden with samples and styles of all kinds. The only thing I can
confidently say about Puscifer is that it sounds like absolutely nothing else,
while remaining coherent enough to not vanish into an obtuse realm of cult
musicianship. It's also a strong candidate for both Worst Album Title and Worst Album Cover of the last decade. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “Queen B”, “Momma Sed”, “Sour Grapes”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSQyj0SjZbM4J_er6X-osf5KvVeUjXlCaVtwLfMYQyCmgNkbhIq83KB1F49xm3uuBPjfx9U0Vzj3OYVLku1thUMxQqMvcofLwSbYe5R0tGchvBc414pwZ2KkbwEK_Mpmwqd4U4_Q-JoDo/s1600/Yearzero_cover323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSQyj0SjZbM4J_er6X-osf5KvVeUjXlCaVtwLfMYQyCmgNkbhIq83KB1F49xm3uuBPjfx9U0Vzj3OYVLku1thUMxQqMvcofLwSbYe5R0tGchvBc414pwZ2KkbwEK_Mpmwqd4U4_Q-JoDo/s200/Yearzero_cover323.jpg" height="180" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>41. Nine Inch Nails – ‘Year Zero’ (2007)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">It has been a strange on again/off again decade for Nine Inch
Nails, and following 2005’s disappointing ‘With Teeth’ it was good to have
Trent Reznor back to his usual innovative and inimitable self on the viral
marketing-tastic ‘Year Zero’. Perhaps reinvigorated by stepping away from his
usual introverted subject material and into a dystopian concept album, many of
the tracks are discordant beat-driven industrial that harks back to the majestic
days of ‘The Downward Spiral’ – a slight letdown that there is glam stomp-tinged
filler that sucks the general quality of the release down, but overall it is
still the most consistent and harshest release under the NIN banner since the
turn of the century.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Recommended Tracks: “My Violent Heart”, “God Given”, “The
Great Destroyer”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
ayeteeceebeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08473579168251690073noreply@blogger.com0