The Apparatus

 Sunday, 17 August 2008 Since signing to Relapse, it seems that Pittsburgh's Don Caballero has gradually shed the "math rock" tag that plagued their early years. It wasn't so much the fans who objected, but the band (especially founder/drummer Damon Che) always felt that its application was limiting, if not misleading. 'Punkgasm' serves as an indication that the openly technical displays have faded, although the band has clearly retained their experimental nature. Nonetheless, it seems that their current objective is coherence rather than convolution. Gone are the days of (enjoyably) struggling through 'Don Caballero 2' without a compass or roadmap. This record shows a band that is no longer content to thrill the average elitist while everyone else runs for the door. In fact, those reticent ears who still couldn't grasp 2006's 'World Class Listening Problem' (despite its relative accessibility) may finally "get" Don Caballero after giving the new disc a few spins.

Before going any farther, it seems appropriate to address another significant change in Don Cab's compositional style. The guitar work on previous albums has traditionally held to a "no solo" policy. Whether this rule was instated due to the band's distaste for the solo's ubiquitous presence in rock music (or as a limitation designed to bring about creative means of avoiding them) is unknown. Regardless, there are several places on 'Punkgasm' in which the band violates their own resolution with interesting results. On that note, speculation has led me to question the possibility that the solos of guitarist Eugene Doyle are modeled after those of the late Denis D'Amour (of Voivod fame). The similarity is in Doyle's twisted note sequences, as they recall D'Amour's method of emulating Rush albums as they were spun backwards. But even if this is the case, Doyle's expressive fretboard histrionics seem to transcend imitation.

Moving on to the songs, one immediately striking feature is their short duration. Most run between two and four minutes, with one exceeding the five-minute mark while a couple of others reside in the minute-and-a-half range. It has been my observation that most bands of this sort are, at some point in their careers, guilty of over-doing it and extending songs that have no business being extended. Thus, it seems that Damon Che and Co. avoid this trap on 'Punkgasm' by making their point quickly and clearly.

The festivities begin with "Loudest Shop Vac In The World", a song that begins by following the precedent set on 'World Class Listening Problem'. The band starts with a simple rhythm over a single-note guitar riff, which builds gradually with the help of suspended and dissonant chords. There are some quirky guitar fills here and there, but the song's initial stages suggest that it lacks the pressing urgency of earlier efforts. However, a transformation occurs at 3:22 that had me eating my words. Here the bass line becomes more mobile while the guitar responds with a sharp, angular riff that attacks with tight precision. Sampled screams at varying pitches (and in rhythm with the song) enter soon after, adding an unsettling atmosphere to the mix. Then a quiet section comes at 5:20 with loosely improvised jamming and a recurrence of the previous guitar riff before the song experiences an abrupt ending.

"The Irrespective Dick Area" is one of the album's shorter cuts, but it squeezes in some nice interaction between separate guitar tracks as they work together to complete the riff. "Bulk Eye" provides a bit of unevenness as its discordant chops, flailing drums, and wigged-out solo give way to a decidedly rock 'n roll motif at 2:45. While atypical for Don Cab, this section comes off as anything but a standard rock jam, with shards of monochromatic licks and dissonant chords thrown around for good measure. "Shit Kids Galore" comes in next with a scratchy analog recording of Damon Che playing a well-executed drum solo. The complex rhythms sound especially interesting when they are isolated from the usual front-line chaos of guitars and bass, making this track a welcome addition. "Celestial Dusty Groove" throws an unexpected curve ball with softly sung vocals that sound like something extracted from the Haight-Ashbury district of the late '60s. What really defines this track, however, is the paradoxically modern sounds coming from its vintage-toned guitars .

The remaining tracks generally take the lead of their predecessors and continue to expound upon 'Punkgasm''s theme of increased listenability with a proportionate rise in experimentation. However, this is not to imply that any part of the record becomes "standard" or "typical" after the first four tracks. On the contrary, the a capella vocals of "Pour You Into The Rug", sweet harmonic overtones of "Why The Couch is Always Wet", and stuttering percussive attack of "Slaughbaugh's Ought Not Own Dog Delta" see Don Caballero continually redefining themselves over the course of its duration. Furthermore, the (intentionally?) predictable chord progression of "Dirty Looks" and AC/DC worship on the title track show a band that is past the point of catering to expectations. In the end, even pissed off ex-loyalists have little choice but to admit that these guys are marching to the beat of their own (off-time) drummer.

 Friday, 08 August 2008 As an opening caveat, allow me to state that I seem to be one of exceedingly few who has any gripes about Cynic's latest promo. The web is densely packed with glowing reviews, ranging from sycophantic fan-boy worship to outright blasphemy. In the latter case, it seems that a few people have gone so far as to proclaim this demo's three tracks (which will likely appear later this year on the full-length 'Traced In Air') as ultimate paragons of song craft and musicianship. If I may be painfully subjective for a moment, the mere thought of these songs surpassing the material on 'Focus' (Cynic's 1993 debut) seems downright absurd. But as I've stated, there are apparently legions of die-hards who are amenable to such a possibility. That being said, take my two cents as you will...

Initial appearances suggest that Paul Masvidal and Co. are currently using Cynic as a vehicle to sustain the sort of musical exploration that he started in 1994 with Portal. The latter project (which, in addition to Masvidal, included former Cynic guitarist Jason Gobel, drummer Sean Reinert, and touring bassist Chris Kringel) served to gradually shed the death metal stripes that characterized their former outfit; in fact, it was only a matter of time before the progressive elements took over completely. But while the new Cynic material is certainly distinct from anything recorded as Portal, the spirit seems very similar.

Here is where things get a little odd, because one might reasonably assume that Masvidal reformed Cynic (along with Reinert, bassist Sean Malone, and new guitarist Tymon Kruidenier) with the intention of capturing the transcendent heaviness that made 'Focus' such a unique and exhilarating experience in the first place. But the "heavy" part of that sacred equation seems to have been lost over the years, yielding results that are mixed at best.

The proceedings begin with "Integral Birth", which immediately establishes the band's current direction. Its clean vocals are mild to the point of sterility, while the accompanying death growls sound silly against its airy, lightly distorted atmosphere. The guitar riffs and solos also prove to be uninspiring, although Malone's bass lines work nicely with Reinert's busy percussion fills. After some consideration, it seems that the aforementioned death growls are the only factor that distinguishes this track from the sort of material being offered by labels such as Inside Out and Magna Carta. This isn't meant to suggest that there is anything bad about lighter prog fare, but it simply doesn't work here.

Next up is "Adam's Murmur", which also lacks the intensity and stylistic flare that once united prog geeks and death metal fiends in strange and beautiful ways. The robotic vocal effect found on early tracks like "Veil Of Maya" and "Celestial Voyage" is present here, but its reintroduction fails to ignite any sparks. In the end, this song's happy, up-beat chord progressions and lackluster solos effectively ruin it before Reinert and Malone can step in and salvage what remains.

The final track is a live cut entitled "Evolutionary Sleeper", which was recorded during Cynic's 2007 reunion tour. The performance here is actually a step above the previous tracks, as the band navigates through a series of alternating tempos and rapid mood swings. The execution is tight and focused, although it's still not on par with expectations. However, it does provide a faint glimmer of hope that was sadly absent during the demo's preceding seven minutes. In the end, I can only hope that Cynic's habit of constant revision (i.e. scrapping multiple demos before choosing tracks for the album, as they did for 'Focus') goes into effect before 'Traced In Air' hits the shelves.

 Friday, 01 August 2008 A cursory listen to At the Soundawn's debut album might steer the average listener toward some rash conclusions. From most indications, it would appear that this Italian quintet graduated (with honors) from the "Isis-meets-Pelican-through-Cult Of Luna" school of hipster Neurosis worship. Granted, Red Square: We Come In Waves contains its fair share of post-metal shoe-gazing, so it's tough to fault those who have written it off. But repeated spins reveal an album that will either thrill or frustrate the more analytical listener.

Those who aren't easily thrown by moderate shifts in style (i.e., the former type) will undoubtedly find value in ATS's uncanny ability to rever their mentors ("Submerged", "Frames Of You") only to execute a quick U-turn into emo/indie rock territory ("One Day Before"). Other tracks see the band dabbling in avant-garde mysticism (e.g. the Kayo Dot-inspired saxophone on "Slight Variations") with vocal nods going toward traditional hardcore.

Listeners of the latter sort (i.e., the "frustrated" ones) might accuse At The Soundawn of failing to adopt a singular genre, thereby sounding "scattered" or "unfocused". After all, they appear to be merging several unrelated styles into a span of just under thirty minutes, which suggests an uncomfortable sense of musical claustrophobia. But somehow, the band avoids this snare by falling back on their skillful arrangements and songwriting acumen. With each listen, they sounds less convoluted and more self-directed. In fact, ATS manages to come out of this affair with both feet planted in metal-gaze territory, despite their embracing of variety and eclecticism.

While Red Square displays a level of maturity that is surprising for a debut album, it is perhaps less surprising that ATS spent three years creating it. The album's duration may seem a bit meager in light of the facts surrounding its conception, but the band's patience should be commended. Their artistic methods, however deliberate, have yielded a compelling record that would not have been possible any other way.

 Sunday, 22 June 2008 Long-winded review introductions tend to be a mind-numbing endeavor, regardless of which end of the pen you happen to be on. However, recounting the latest album by Japan's Koenjihyakkei without some degree of historical context would be like explaining quantum physics to an indigenous tribe of herdsmen. Thus, a basic understanding of progressive rock's more "difficult" subgenres is quite essential when attempting to comprehend a release of such esoteric magnitude.

Generally speaking, Koenjihyakkei occupy a dark corner of the progressive rock pantheon known as "zeuhl". This obscure subgenre was founded in 1969 by an eccentric, yet fiendishly talented Frenchman named Christian Vander. It was his penchant for combining fusion, symphonic rock, classicism, and avant-garde/sci-fi weirdness which compelled Vander to form the legendary Magma. Over time, many zeuhl bands (whether Magma or those they inspired) started incorporating tribal rhythms and military cadences in order to heighten the dissonance and musical tension which became one of the genre's trademarks.

Jump ahead to the mid 1980s. Tokyo-based drummer Tatsuya Yoshida found himself sufficiently inspired by Magma's confounding quirkiness to form his own band, Ruins. This outfit set itself apart from other zeuhl acts by employing only two musicians: Yoshida (on percussion) and various bass guitarists (there have been four in the band's history). Yoshida's complicated song structures and head-spinning rhythmic schemes were so intricate that he reportedly composed them in score form, just to keep his band mates from getting lost in the mire.

Despite releasing several acclaimed albums under the Ruins moniker, Yoshida expanded his musical efforts in 1994 with a side project called Koenjihyakkei. 'Hundred Sights of Koenji' actually served as the band's debut album, and here it has been reissued by Skin Graft Records. The most striking difference between this band and Yoshida's parent project is the comparatively straightforward rhythms, which are often presented in common time signatures. Opening track "Ioss" incorporates the aforementioned military cadences with several off-key excursions (0:57) which show that despite its more conventional aspects, this project is anything but typical. A series of aggressive guitar screams and whammy bar dives enter the mix at the 3-minute mark as the vocal chorus belts out its final minute of monosyllabic mayhem.

Second track "Doi Doi" begins with a sublime melody of voice and xylophone which is alternately punctuated by a majestic refrain of male and female choruses. Yoshida's masterful weaving of these contrasting elements shows his incredible talent for orchestration, which surfaces frequently throughout the album. As the track proceeds, jarring screams and growls build up in the background until a harrowing guitar solo carries the tune to its appropriate conclusion.

"Molavena" comes out of the starting gate with a heavy nod to the '70s with a burst of keyboard-laden progressive rock. Later segments display funky guitar passages (1:45) and soulful interludes that provide the perfect back drop for some beautifully layered vocals and powerful instrumentation. "Gepek" does more to show the continuing influence of Magma, as its frantic lyrics (sung in an indiscernible, possibly fictitious language) volley back and forth over a bizarre series of bass riffs and percussion phrases. As its intensity begins to fade, "Yagonahh" hits the listener with a manic flute melody that seems to dance over its bass accompaniment like a fairy doing an Irish jig. As the song reaches fever-pitch, one can't help but extend some empathy toward the musicians, who surely collapsed after hitting that final note.

"Ozone Fall" begins with a swirling organ pattern and lumbering guitar riff that (in a nagging sense) sound strangely familiar. The proceedings are subsequently thrown off course with a flurry of vocalizations that include minor-key refrains and commanding barks, to which Yoshida reponds with his trademark syncopations and pistol-shot snare hits. A burst of pseudo sci-fi madness follows in the form of "Zhess", with its rapidly sung lyrics, tense fills, and spacey synth effects, while "Zoltan" provides a rapid down-shift with a funereal organ melody and Canterbury-influenced church choir. "Avedumma" serves up another oddly-placed homage to '70s prog, complete with a Yes-inspired keyboard intro and complex melodies that evoke everything from mid-period Gentle Giant to early Pink Floyd.

Album closer "Sunna Zarioki" kicks off with traces of progressive fanfare (a la Emerson Lake and Palmer, circa 'Trilogy') until the triumphant horns and thunderous drums are pushed to the background by a rapid series of half-sung, half-chanted melodic phrases. As one might come to expect, the song involves an increasing degree of vocal histrionics and orchestrated lunacy until its conclusion in just under five-minutes. It is here that one realizes Koenjihyakkei's place in the grand scheme of obscure artistry: it is one of those exceedingly rare forms of musical expression that provides an extended look through the eyes of a mad genius. Despite his occasional props to the early pioneers, Tatsuya Yoshida's ability to compose music that touches on opposing subgenres--without sounding muddled or confused--is an accomplishment that few can claim. Rather than alienating listeners, his insanity actually serves to challenge and engage those who are willing to reach for the more hidden depths of aesthetic pleasure.

 Thursday, 05 June 2008 It's been quite awhile since my brain was alternately challenged and assaulted over the course of 30 minutes. With 'Lvl. 1', Maine's Last Chance to Reason come very close to achieving that effect. At first, it appears that this highly talented quintet specializes in a surgically precise brand of technical metalcore. While there are a few nods to Psyopus and Despised Icon here and there, LCTR seems to offset the chaos with songs that are a little smoother than one might expect. While I don't necessarily attribute the aforementioned "smoothness" to better songwriting skills, their less conventional approach is a nice change of pace.


Things get off to a sudden start with "Owned By A Stingray Barb". Without even reading the lyrics, I think we can safely guess that this one was written in (mocking?) tribute to the late Steve Irwin. All cruel jokes aside, this track sees the band going straight for the knockout punch with a series of ascending guitar runs and jagged rhythms that keep the listener off-guard and highly vulnerable. But just when you expect to be kicked between the eyes and buried for good, the onslaught changes pace with a few synth passages that could have been lifted from
Genghis Tron's 'Cloak Of Love'.

Although relegated to a support role, the keysboards do much to set LCTR apart from their peers. While some songs only employ them for the sake of spitting out weird sound effects, others would make far less of an impact without them. "She's My Bloody Pie" is a prime example, with it's subtle, yet powerful ambience that is derived from the pulsing synth lines in the background. In addition to its atmosphere, this track is notable for the mangled riffs of guitarist AJ Harvey, who sounds like he has spent some time studying mid-period Botch (i.e., 'We Are The Romans').

While 'Lvl. 1' consists mostly of solid, well-composed tracks, there are a couple of spots that see the band falling on their collective face. "Those Were Real Witch Bones" is the worst offender, as it combines cheesy, upbeat melodies with a main riff that sounds like third-rate Pantera. Add in the horrendous chorus (which sounds like Drowningman at their worst), and you've got a loser on all points. But the band makes up for such mediocrity with tracks like "Me And Tom Brokaw Are Like This", which features flowing bass lines (a la Sean Malone or Tony Choy) with a bit of Canvas Solaris in its riffs and overall structure.

All in all, LCTR can take pride in having released a disc that qualifies as a moderate success. We can only hope that future releases will contain less of the silly melodic crap, and more of the tightly controlled chaos. Therein lies their true forte.