Articles by Matt Butler
It is difficult to know where to start with a body of work as intimidating and weighty (not to mention heavy) as this. It is phenomenally affecting and the title alone makes the listener think about the gradual destruction that humans are inflicting on the earth.
You hear these epic, operatic choruses and you swear that you can flex your magically enormous biceps and real lightning will actually shoot out of your fingertips.
OHHMS are are like nothing on earth; huge, unnerving and loud. But this album, with biting, powerful lyrics concerned with animal rights, is a triumph.
A refreshed, revitalised Soulfly give the people what they want in Max Cavalera’s best release in ages.
An album of riffs which are massive and majestic, at once conjuring mental images of barren space-scapes and a big-sky desert wilderness.
In these times of deep division between the entitled and the rest of us, of walls growing between races, genders, neighbourhoods and nations, this fantastic version of Pink Floyd’s classic encapsulates people’s fears and anger.
It is worrying when a band say they want to confound expectations. But after All Them Witches’ sprawling previous album, this is probably a natural reaction for the band – to dial things back a little.
Krisiun are back to their blisteringly fast signature sound and it is a good thing.
The gargantuan riffs, the cavernous drums, the ominous tone of the guitar and bass – not to mention the dry rasp of the vocals – send this album way past brooding, miles on from sullen, beyond malevolent and to the border of bloody terrifying.
Like riffs? Melody? Albums with a mammoth on the cover? You’re in luck. This strikes a perfect balance between heavy and crowd-pleasingly melodic.
This is great. From the visceral thump that introduces the opening track to the barrage of the final number, it is a heartfelt, if occasionally bleak, listen.
The ideal soundtrack to toasting life’s little triumphs… like getting out of the house, making a decent coffee and refraining from calling the boss an arrogant dickhead.
Drenched in shimmering riffs from the 1960s and full of enthusiasm, this is a record for listening to while driving on the coast in the sun.
An album of relentless brutality, gory lyrics, a hefty dose of humour and – this is most important – mammoth hooks and breakdowns. When only death metal will do, this will do nicely.
This band promised more far-reaching concepts, more progression and more experimentation. This album delivers. And it is testament to the adage that if you make music that is worth hearing, listeners will do their best to make it heard.
By the end of the final song, the band play like they know it is the end of a trilogy born of sadness and are putting every sinew into making it as fast, loud and intense as possible.
On first impressions this consists of two squalls of blackened screamy intensity. But then you notice variations and major-chord progressions that your reptilian brain responds to by giving you goose-bumps.
This album will get attention because two-thirds of the band were in Fugazi. But don’t buy it because of that, buy it because it is a great debut.
It’s a narrow tightrope that an avant-garde musician must balance upon. But Jason van Gulick does so with aplomb.
If they are this good on only their second EP – nine songs into their career, to put it another way – imagine what they could do if they were given time and money to spend on an entire album. Outstanding.
If you need an album to match an excess of caffeine but one that doesn’t lumber you with irritability or melancholy, you are in luck.