Still inarguably one of the most underrated bands in world, King's X soldier on with their appropriately titled XVth (including live albums and compilations) record. It's not one of the finest in their catalog, but it's a damn good record from a band that can't get enough praise.
"If you really do believe, then don't forget to pray for me," sing the band with typically immaculate harmonies on the religion-themed first track, 'Pray.' It signals King's X's freedom from their previous self-consciousness over the "Christian Rock" label, and that free-spiritedness is one of the only consistencies on XV. Spontaneous, multi-layered and versatile, XV has all the soul, hooks and musicianship that's made King's X one of the most distinct hard rock acts of the past 20 years. Michael Wagener's production is a little safer than it was on 2005's landmark Ogre Tones, but it never drowns out King's X's best qualities. Bassist dUg Pinnick could merit a spot in the band based on his choir-worthy vocals or his funk bass chops alone, but somehow he combines both to incorporate the primal and the peaceful in the urgent-sounding 'Move,' the radio-ready 'Alright' and 'Stuck,' which sounds like a lost track from their early '90s heyday.
Guitar god Ty Tabor sings more than he has on the past few albums, and the reflective "I Just Want to Live" is one his best achievements to date. Later on, his 'I Don't Know' finds the middle ground between Pete Townshend and Elliott Smith, and it may be the album's best example of why commercial success has eluded King's X for all these years--it's saccharine to most metalheads and too loud for most old school soul fans. King's X still exist in their own universe, and the best tracks on XV are peerless.
At times, the band still gets a little too free-spirited. Even some of King's X's very best albums (Faith, Hope, Love and Dogman among them) could've used a little trimming, and XV flounders on subpar tracks like 'Julie,' 'Love and Rockets,' or 'Repeating Myself,' which simply aren't catchy enough to transcend their cornball lyrics. But King's X is nothing if not adventurous. Like many great artists, Prince and Elvis Costello included, King's X could afford to be a little shrewder with their output, but that willingness to venture also takes them to great heights. Case in point: 'Go Tell Somebody,' a spiritual hard-rocker with a singalong, almost gospel chorus that could bring Anton LaVey to church. With a killer Tabor solo, incredible harmonies and driving drums from Jerry Gaskill, it blends the band's best aspects of King's X into one of their very best tracks. The CD edition's unremarkable bonus tracks may derail some of the song's momentum, but XV will still have new listeners scratching their heads as to why this band isn't topping the charts and selling out arenas.
Picking up a King's X CD (or even better, getting tickets) is not only a good service to a band that needs it, it's one of the best listening experiences you're likely to get anywhere. Go tell somebody.
Possibly the most underrated band in the world, Local H soldier on with a brave, hard-lived and completely rockin' new album that's unlikely to get nearly as much attention as their minor radio-hit cover of 'Toxic' did a few years ago. But those who prick up their ears to Twelve Angry Months will be rewarded with a fierce, smart break-up record that their contemporaries Chris Cornell, Scott Weiland and Jerry Cantrell would kill someone to write nowadays.
The twelve angry songs on the grunge band's new album represent twelve months in an excruciating post-break-up year that I hope wasn't nearly as bad as it sounds. A lesser band would fall into emo or "Joe lies" trappings, but singer/songwriter/guitarist Scott Lucas and drummer Brian St. Clair have a noisy, powerful song cycle that's unabashedly mean-spirited--"Baby, could you do me a favor/Fall off of the earth and I'll see you later" croons Lucas on the opening track, and power-chord workout 'White Belt Boys' has an "I hope you have a lonely life" rejoinder that leads into an anthem-ready 'Shout at the Devil'-esque chorus.
The minor-key guitar intro that kicks off the album in 'The One with 'Kid'' (as in, "Where's my Pretenders record...the one with 'Kid,'" "Where's all my Kyuss records, you never liked them until you met me!") calls to mind a western movie showdown, and the album follows up with some of the best fight music you'll hear all year. The unguarded, embittered Lucas goes to war with new boyfriends ("BMW man,") new lovers ("Machine Shed Wrestling,") and his old sentiments ("Summer of Boats,") all with a heightened sense of the tunefulness that made him one of the most compelling songwriters in Chicago history. Rather than aim for the country fair and adult contemporary audiences that many of his former peers have targeted, Lucas packs a devastating punch into the hard-rocking standout "24 Hour Break-Up Session" or the blunt, seething "Jesus Christ! Did You See The Size Of The Sperm Whale?" But this isn't the Scott Lucas show--St. Clair hits with the force of Lars Ulrich and the timing of Dave Grohl, and on record it's even deadlier than it reads.
To pigeonhole the album as 12 months/12 songs would oversimplify it--each song has vivid, spirited and 3-D life of it's own. "Taxi-Cabs" sounds like a breather from the album's intensity until it drives into Travis Bickle territory, and the turbulent "Simple Pleas" goes from Lucas' attempts to be reasonable to defeated screams of "I always said you were too good/And now you believe/I think always knew that you were gonna leave/But I can't let go...I can't let go." The almost nine-minute closer "Hand to Mouth" is one of the album's most affecting tracks, building into a melodic final chorus that clocks out with the same intro that the preceded the entire album. It's the only orderly moment on Twelve Angry Months, and Lucas' slugfest with his ex, himself and breakup record conventions ends with one clear winner.
Amidst the unavoidable excitement of Trent Reznor putting up music online for free, the new Nine Inch Nails album The Slip had me worried. Reznor's reputation is that of a meticulous, perfectionist workaholic studio wizard, someone prone to taking five or six years in between albums and avoiding all press and publicity while deeply investing in something as masterful as The Fragile. Even 2007's Year Zero, which came out a relatively short two years after With Teeth, was shrouded in mystery and complexity, and it enhanced Reznor's image as a rock Stanley Kubrick. But since May 2007 he's released Year Zero, a dynamic full-length collaboration with Saul Williams, a 2-disc, 4-part album of instrumentals and now The Slip, a ten-song set on which Reznor's only comment has been, "thank you for your continued and loyal support over the years - this one's on me." One could be forgiven for thinking he rushed it out in order to be a free music pioneer.
But as is often the case with NIN, nothing can be taken for granted. At ten songs and 44 minutes, The Slip initially seems like the most concise full-length Reznor's made since Broken, but one listen reveals a statement as varied and tumultuous as some of Reznor's epics. Barely-there instrumentals like '999,999' and 'Corona Radiata' rest near tracks like the chaotic 'Letting You,' or the dissonant new wave of 'Head Down,' and while the album never reaches the heaviness of Reznor's groundbreaking early albums, it also avoids the melodrama that formerly plagued his lyrics. The man who brought the first-person to industrial music is now more prone to Who-level self-examination more than Morrissey-inspired angst, addressing his demises with more wonder than helplessness. "Once I start I cannot help myself," sings Reznor on 'Discipline,' perhaps reflecting his newfound productivity as much as his self-destructive tendencies. Thankfully, he hasn't lost the bite he showcased on the ridiculously underrated Year Zero, venomously taking on compliance under the Bush regime in 'Letting You' and examining the comfort in keeping his mouth shut in 'Echoplex.' "You chip away the old version of you/You'd be surprised what you can do," mutters Reznor's protagonist. "I'm safe in here, irrelevant, just like they said." Stripping individuality and dissent for the country's benefit is not a new idea, but few artists can convey it with the same eloquence.
The Slip is perhaps the least focused and intense record in NIN's discography, but it really succeeds with the songs. There's no concept or theme to dominate the record, and there's no huge stylistic change or innovative sound to add to Reznor's repertoire, but the hooks, choruses and soundscapes that Reznor creates all deliver. The sparse, stunning piano number 'Lights in the Sky' would be "the quiet song" on a Nick Drake record, and the wordless 'The Four of Us are Dying' is more varied an exciting than arguably any of Ghosts' instrumental experiments. Reznor can also still close an album better than just about anyone ("Hurt," "Stuck," "Right Where it Belongs," "Zero-Sum," etc.), and "Demon Seed" leaves the listener jonesing for more, inflicting analog instrumentation and a haunting final chorus that feels like it was way too creepy to be on Pretty Hate Machine.
It's not as staggering as Year Zero, but it's a strong example of Reznor's compositional skills and studio wizardry. It carries the aura and attitude that can really only be found on Trent Reznor releases, and plus, it's a free album by one of the great artistic minds of our time. What are you waiting for?
Few artists have brought out my inner music snob like artsy doom-metal heroes Boris. By building their discordant, experimental sound on Sonic Youth far more than Metallica, Boris have become the latest winners of the "metal band for people who don't like metal" award, like a hipstery Rage Against the Machine. Thus, ever since Pink was reissued in America in 2006, I've been putting up with NYC-area kids who claim that Boris is the elite, cutting edge in metal, usually via one of the following statements:
"Gawd, everybody likes that Dimebag Darrell shit, but it's just jock music. I like real metal, metal that's interesting, like Boris." "Huh? No, I don't listen to Ozzy, I just like the shirt. The only metal that I listen to is Boris."
"So you're into metal? Like Boris?"
Mention metal music in Williamsburg and I guarantee that you'll hear at least one of those statements. But it's ridiculous to claim that Boris aren't a metal band since they blend noise-rock, alternative and psychedelic influences into their music, and it's demeaning to metal to act as if it's limited to a specific sound. Yes, Boris have fans who wear ironic t-shirts and can't tell Motörhead from Machine Head, but that's nothing to hold against the band--especially when they release records as challenging and exciting as Smile.
Smile (perhaps they're too metal to heed Brian Wilson?) comes in two reworked editions, Japanese and American. Predictably, Allmusic and Pitchfork have declared the spacier, less-rockin' Japanese version to be superior, but the gringo version has the benefit of 'Statement,' a stoner metal beach party in three-and-a-half minutes that promises to be one of the year's best songs. Starring some buzz-saw riffage, train whistle vocals and an unironic cowbell, Boris throw down the gauntlet at countrymen Guitar Wolf for severe high-level rocking. The winner is, of course, the listener, but the Japanese edition substitutes the song with 'Messeeji,' an avant, slow-building mix of 'Statement' that stretches the tune for seven minutes and buries or erases much of the guitar-playing. It's stirring and fun to listen to, but it feels like a reconstruction of the definitive original. Tracks like 'Messeji' and 'Shoot!,' which re-imagines the American version's Melvins-inspired 'Laser Beam,' play somewhat like tutorials for audiophiles and remix artists. Maybe something for the kids who preferred Further Down the Spiral to the original.
Still, both versions serve healthy doses of rocking out and weirdness, and whichever way you prefer your Boris, it's clear that they're an exciting, innovative act currently at a songwriting peak. Smile is often droning and idiosyncratic, but the best moments come in the actual songs. 'My Neighbor Satan' delivers melodic, oddly pretty verses before diving into effects-heavy monster rock interludes, and the spacey 'Flower, Sun, Rain' and 'You Were Holding an Umbrella' are as mellow and as disconcerting as a ticking time bomb. 'Untitled' may not be worth all 15 minutes of feedback and noodling, but it's atmospheric and never jarring. Even the 2o-minute Japanese version sounds like it would be mind-blowing performed live in a small club. Smile may have some misfires, but this is a band whose flaws are more exciting than a lot of bands' strengths.
For three years straight, Gigantour has been the best nationwide metalfest in the country. The lineup is more consistent than recent Ozzfests, Sounds of the Underground and especially this ridiculous new Rockstar Mayhem Tour, and the only tour that comes close to being as solid is the underground Summer Slaughter fest. Unlike the first three tours I mentioned, Gigantour won't throw Disturbed or Avenged Sevenfold on the bill to sell more tickets (save for that embarrassing addition of Static-X down under, but give 'em a break, it was Australia), so they can't fill out arenas like the aforementioned mall metal festivals. But the fans are all the better off for it, as proven last week at Hammerstein Ballroom.
The Hammerstein floor filled up quickly after doors as metalheads crowded to catch the first act. Kicking things off on a ridiculously high note were Oakland-area metal gods High on Fire. Undeniably one of the three or four best metal bands to emerge this century, High on Fire transcended their 30-minute alloted time slot by playing their very best songs with enough gusto to outshine the next few bands on the bill. Unabashedly excited frontman Matt Pike was the night's most energetic performer, taking all his solos as a chance to run up to the audience and pull off guitar tricks before running back to the mic in time to growl out some metal masterpieces from Death is this Communion. It was all he could do to stay on top of his restless rhythm section, who provided grimy-sounding low end which, if not ideally heard in a place like Hammerstein, gave a Stooges-esque rawness to their metal that lesser acts should take note of. Ending with the signature 'Devilution,' Pike and the gang soldiered off, having set a high standard for the evening and for metal as a whole.
Job for a Cowboy haven't gotten any better than the last time I saw them, and their performance was pretty identical to last time, with snotrocketing and synchronized headbanging that seemed increasingly forced and predictable. The hype must be working, since they were better received here than they were with Behemoth, but count me off the bandwagon until they get some better songs.
Finnish melodic death metal jokers Children of Bodom are best captured live, where the filler that bogs down their records is kept to a minimum and the band's sense of humor really shines. Over Alexi Laiho's songs about "you hating me" (yeah, me!) and "not giving a flying fuck" (no, seriously, REALLY not giving a flying fuck) the band gave synth-heavy power metal songs a death metal deliverance, drawing a smoother line between the Scorpions and Arch Enemy than one could reasonably expect. It was a memorable if not remarkable set, and Children of Bodom continue to be a welcome presence in the metal community.
Hugely influential Swedish death metalheads In Flames' new album, A Sense of Purpose is thus far the year's most divisive metal release--some applaud the band's bold experiments with a more accessible, radio-friendly sound while kids who kneel at the altar of Jester Race are crying sellout. Truthfully, Sense of Purpose tracks like 'The Mirror's Truth' were heavy enough to duke it out with anything in the rest of their set, not to mention anything the other bands played that evening. If their melodic experiments on the new album and Come Clarity aren't always up to par, they're definitely a bold new trek for the band and not an attempt to win over Trivium fans.
Of course, In Flames have a wealth of great music to bring out, and older tracks like 'Graveland' have been so influential to metalcore and Swedish death metal that it's hard to hear how mind-blowing they were upon release. Frontman Anders Fridén was revved up the happily-to-oblige moshers in the audience while the guitarists served Maiden-inspired death metal that proved that In Flames have always crafted their melodies with a lot of edge. By the end of the show, any fan who thought that In Flames have gone Hot Topic was kidding himself, and the band proved that their mostly first-rate music is one of the great treasures of modern metal.
But the night climaxed with the headliners, Gigantour mainstays Megadeth. The thrash titans took the stage as the lights dimmed, furiously running through staples like 'Wake Up Dead' and 'Take No Prisoners' without as much as a pause to acknowledge the crowd. One of the most polarizing figures in thrash metal, Dave Mustaine was in good spirits, trading blazing solos with new lead guitarist Chris Broderick (Nevermore) and barking out tales of political corruption and science fiction horrors. Classical guitarist and sweep-picking master Broderick let his technical skill steal the show from his bandmates at moments, demonstrating a Randy Rhoads-esque grasp on his instrument that most likely earned him the night's musicianship award. If anyone came close, it was Mustaine, whose solos leaked out of his hands with an ease that Zakk Wylde might envy.
The set was a laundry list of metal classics on par with the Iron Maiden and Pantera tracks played over the PA before Megadeth's entrance--had the band sat in chairs and played 'Symphony of Destruction,' 'Kick the Chair' and 'Ashes in Your Mouth,' the show still would have been pretty great. But the entire band, especially irrepressible bassist James LoMenzo, had enough energy and stage expertise to carry the show on their performance alone. Highlights were plentiful, from the show-stopping ballad 'A Tout Le Monde' to a raging 'Skin o' My Teeth,' but the best was saved for the encore.
Unsurprisingly, Megadeth ripped into 'Holy Wars...the Punishment Due,' the Israel-Palestine inspired scorcher that's become the band's signature closer and arguably their best-known song. However, between the song's two movements Mustaine unleashed the foreboding intro to 'Mechanix,' a punk metal thrasher he wrote 25 years ago during his brief stint in Metallica. The crowd gasped, applauded and roared their approval while he tore through the song's first verse, causing a mosh pit that threatened to raze the Hammerstein. At the song's end, the band wordlessly tore back into 'Holy Wars,' picking up right where they left off and racing through the frantic, solo-driven end. "Next thing you know, they'll take my thoughts away!" belted Mustaine as the song ended. The band congregated in the middle of the stage and bowed while the fervent applause did something few could ever claim to do--drown out words spoken by Dave Mustaine.
Maybe Megadeth worked extra hard to upstage the other great bands on the bill. Maybe Dave Mustaine was particularly vitriolic about playing only a few blocks away from where Metallica sent him home on a bus 25 years ago. Maybe the dissolution of Mustaine's marriage is affecting his playing. But most likely, as any Megadeth fan will tell you, these guys are incapable of delivering anything less than one of the most exciting rock shows you will ever witness. Even when four of the biggest metal bands in the world aren't leaping at a chance to steal the show.
"If you really do believe, then don't forget to pray for me," sing the band with typically immaculate harmonies on the religion-themed first track, 'Pray.' It signals King's X's freedom from their previous self-consciousness over the "Christian Rock" label, and that free-spiritedness is one of the only consistencies on XV. Spontaneous, multi-layered and versatile, XV has all the soul, hooks and musicianship that's made King's X one of the most distinct hard rock acts of the past 20 years. Michael Wagener's production is a little safer than it was on 2005's landmark Ogre Tones, but it never drowns out King's X's best qualities. Bassist dUg Pinnick could merit a spot in the band based on his choir-worthy vocals or his funk bass chops alone, but somehow he combines both to incorporate the primal and the peaceful in the urgent-sounding 'Move,' the radio-ready 'Alright' and 'Stuck,' which sounds like a lost track from their early '90s heyday.
