The Apparatus

 Wednesday, 16 April 2008 Rarely do bands name themselves more appropriately than New Zealand tech-grinders Akaname. The group's moniker, as well as the title of their debut EP Filthlicker, pay homage to the Akaname of Japanese folklore, a flighty creature whose elongated tongue craved only the grimiest of bathroom floors and waste-house walls. As vile as that all might sound, Akaname do a fine job of living up to their namesake, molding their songs with scuzzy slabs of guitar, bass and vocal regurgitations, all over a bed of organic drum work (refreshing, considering the prim-and-proper trigger sounds many metal producers seem to swear by).

Developed as their textural palette may be, the New Zealanders refuse to worship feel over form, instead partnering their swampy textures with tight, cohesive song structuring. Akaname allow their songs to develop, seamlessly integrating one monstrous riff to the next; considering the warped polyrhythm that constitutes the band's modus operandi, this is no small feat. The compositions still jar the listener without the crutch of arbitrary dynamic shifts. By tastefully redeploying already-established patterns, or holding a crusty groove longer than tech-metal decorum might call for, Akaname pack their songs with momentum and direction, forcing the audience through Filthlicker's raging gauntlet.

If anything, Akaname could make listeners run that gauntlet even longer. Exactly because the songs do flow so well, the EP's twenty-minute runtime flies by, and with just a handful more of their technical sludge concoctions, or even a few deviations from their formula, the band might have delivered a more fleshed-out listening experience. As their debut release, however, Filthlicker displays a band not only proficient with their instruments and their songwriting, but well aware of their desired niche, and producing some enthralling metal from within it. Like a machete caked with human waste, Akaname's debut cuts deep and leaves plenty of filth behind.

 Thursday, 10 April 2008 While both Meshuggah and the now-defunct Mr. Bungle could be said to play something akin to "alternative" metal, the two venerated groups hardly feel like obvious choices for stylistic partners. The reason why bands on at least two continents, North American act Car Bomb and Australian stalwarts Five Star Prison Cell, choose to draw from these exact sources might not follow any immediate logic, but this illogical approach seems to be the defining strategy behinds the bands' shock-and-awe tactics. Combining a meaty sense of groove with jarring vocal antics, Five Star Prison Cell's sophomore effort Slaves of Virgo doesn't always hit on mark, but the band have undeniably crafted their own sound, and much of their work pleases in an illogical way.

The playing on Slaves of Virgo is both taut and fluid, demonstrating the band's remarkable ability to cycle from metallic stomp to playful alt-rock. Mere mention of anything "playful" or "alt-rock" is likely to send many a metal fan running, but it's difficult to imagine Five Star Prison Cell being overly concerned with listener alienation. The album is forcefully bizarre, at times to its own detriment; just as the band is hitting the stride of one crushing movement, they're apt to completely switch gears, squelching any momentum that might have been developing. Still, while these constant stylistic shifts straggle at times, they often make a sort of devious sense within the song structuring, providing excellent counterpoints to the album's tech-metal blasts. At the scale of individual songs, this contrast keeps FSPC's attack from stagnating; after a full forty minutes, Slaves of Virgo's bombastic delivery can become wearisome, largely due to the psychotic vocal work of Adam Glynn. Glynn's vocals are almost nonstop throughout the album, and frequently multilayered. Alternating between bellowing growls, cartoonish speak-singing, and all manner of vocal tics, Glynn's contributions do much to define Five Star Prison Cell's sound, but the glut of vocals throughout the album overstuffs songs that might have otherwise attacked with more agility.

Such is the predicament of Five Star Prison Cell: while the songwriting on Slaves of Virgo could stand for some tightening, any refinement would most likely sacrifice the very elements that define the band. The Melbourne group produces work that is equally rewarding and frustrating, and their second album goes down like Thanksgiving Dinner: you'll leave more than satisfied, only to have to deal with the post-holiday bloat and stupor.

 Tuesday, 08 April 2008 The first coherent thought my flailing mind could form, as Journal's megaton Casualties of War EP tore its way through my headphones, was simply that this band needed to be signed. No, even more, this band should be huge, and a band still so early in life could not possibly produce these sounds. And yet, even as my cognitive faculties did their best to keep pace, Journal's mathematical fury managed to always stay one step ahead, never failing to obliterate any preconceptions of what move the band might make next. After hearing Casualties of War in its entirety, my brain still hasn't settled back into place, but things up there have calmed down at least enough for me to realize my original assessment was way off mark: if Journal can produce this level of work on their own, without label support, then the only thing they need is to continue making music.

Journal, a young band operating out of Sacramento, draw heavily from the controlled chaos of early Dillinger Escape Plan, and many of Casualties of War's more enraged passages would fit right in with the blistering Calculating Infinity. To even be able to compare their work with such a revered predecessor pays a huge service to the members of Journal, and rightly so; even more impressively, the little-known band has hardly settled for rehashing a classic. Casualties of War stands on its own hybrid legs, drawing from whichever gene pools it so chooses, encompassing frantic hardcore, Nintendo MIDI tunes, and the noodling freak-outs of fellow Sacramento act Hella. While fusing such disparate elements could have resulted in chains of arbitrary ideas, Journal wisely focus on writing songs, allowing their crazed hardcore to segue smoothly into sections of melodic boss-battle riffery.

This variance in mood, between the raging and the radiant, keeps Journal's compositions from losing steam. Following the math rock release of "It's Not My Fault, It's the San Andreas Fault", album closer "Sicker Than the Joseph's of Earth" hits all the harder. Journal's vocal force, typically opting for a mid-range hardcore bark, feels at times limp next to the EP's swirling instrumentation, often adding little to the delivery of the songs. Really, though, with songs already so forceful, vocals of any kind almost seem an afterthought. Journal may be a young band, but you'd never know it from listening to the astounding Casualties of War. With or without label support, this is a band to follow.

 Thursday, 03 April 2008 It starts abruptly, no warning, no ambient intro, no fade in. All you have is that turgid guitar riff, slow and methodical, repeating for nearly a minute. Underneath the guitar, though, is some other beast altogether; it sounds like a battalion of drummers, beating and clawing and tearing at their kits, syncing up with the riff but in no manner you can count, let alone nod your head to. And then, again without any forewarning, you're thrown head first into the next song. Atop the splatters of percussion and grimy notes shrieks some two headed... well, you're not sure what it is, but it's piercing and pissed off and it's got a throat of steel. Welcome to Destroyer Destroyer.

Hailing from Oklahoma, Destroyer Destroyer play a thick-but-nimble brand of modern extreme music, drawing their main cues from the likes of the Sawtooth Grin, Machinist, and myriad other technical bands. With the release of Littered with Arrows, the band have truly outdone themselves, unleashing a concise album that flows throughout and never deviates from its nihilistic vision. With this record, evolving nicely from the shorter EPs preceding it, the band has set the standards high not only for themselves, but for any band pairing mind-numbing technicality with primal aggression.

As technical as their work might be, Destroyer Destroyer never quite fit the exact mold of modern day tech bands. Yes, DD utilize countless time signatures, often in the same song, and often all at once, resulting in the fits of polyrhythmic spazzery for which the group is renowned. Where this band differs from its peers, though, are the textures and aural qualities they drown themselves in, resulting in a more organic sound than contemporary acts. Drummer Noah Taylor brings an unmatched level of jazzy urgency to his playing, seemingly pounding every piece of his equipment at once and washing the songs in cymbals. Guitars, supplied for this record by Corey Ray and Mike Franklin, provide much of the rhythmic propulsion, trudging along in knuckle-dragging splendor that makes an excellent counterpoint to Taylor's non-stop battery. The syrup-thick sound adhered to by the guitar duo completely fills the sonic space, drowning the listener without blotting out the other players. The bass of Dallas Niles keeps excellent time, a feat unto itself, and brings in a satisfying low-end that gives the songs much of their wallop. And, of course, there's vocalist Jamie Schnetzler, whose tremendous range and cryptic lyrical musings bring an emotional variety to the songs. The sound of this band is simultaneously dirge-like in its sense of doom and endlessly frenetic in its epileptic thrashing. The audience cannot help but listen in awe.

 Tuesday, 01 April 2008 Betrayer, the Lifeforce Records debut form Ohio tech-heads Harlots, attacks with confidence, and not without good reason: previous to the '07 Lifeforce release, the group had already assembled two abrasive full-lengths, steadily perfecting their brew of ADD grind and metallic proggery. With Betrayer, the seasoned band has outdone itself, composing a fleshed-out siege on the senses that packs a few tons more punch than many of their peers in the technical scene. While not quite the Holy Grail they could be capable of making, the most recent offering from Harlots is sure to please.

Harlots out-maneuver hordes of lesser bands with their chops and technique alone. Jeff Lohrber's dexterous drumming often garners the most attention, nailing off-kilter rhythms without stiffness or loss of strength. Nevertheless, guitar and bass defiantly hold their own, Eric Dunn's strings coating Joshua Dillon's sludgy low ends to make for an appetizing sonic palette. With the album's blazing instrumentation usually taking focus, Christian Fillipo's throaty howls can, at times, fade into the mix; still, the vocalist provides an emotional grounding to the songs, never detracting force from the band's stampede. While every player's technical abilities shine throughout the album, where Harlots truly succeed is their nuanced composition. Even with countless rhythmic transitions and dynamic shifts, the songs flow well and skillfully work together as an album. The group's sense of balance is key here, giving Harlots an overarching consistency where many bands would have settled for random acts of musical violence. The hypnotic riffing of "Dried up Goliathan" allows listeners to catch their breath without dulling the album's momentum. "The Concept of Existence" continually climbs, layering intensity upon intensity until the album's brilliant closing track, a twelve-minute medley of catch-and-release dynamic play.

A few unfortunate production choices hold Betrayer back from the heights it seems destined for. Lohrbers drumming, already powerful, is kept high in the mix, his nimble double-bass patterns often overwhelming the sound of the album. Blasts of spastic shredding that might have otherwise slayed listeners come out muddy, sacrificing much of their edge and blurring the album's shorter tracks together. Contrivances aside, Harlots display a drive rarely witnessed in their scene, and if it's blistering, well-constructed metal you seek, you're in the right place.