Blackstar: A David Bowie Tribute and Review

Look up here, I’m in heaven/I’ve got scars that can’t be seen

— David Bowie, “Lazarus,” Blackstar (2016)

I’ve been putting this off for a bit — That’s if, of course, you consider a month under the definition of, “a bit.” I honestly felt that David Bowie’s swansong, and final effort, Blackstar, deserved some time to grow, to escape the swelling press and nonsense attributed to a famed celebrity’s passing.  The Blackstar review needed to be objective.  The review needed to feel sincere.  My love for Bowie’s music and his various personas would’ve clouded the discussion and led to a completely biased post.  What else could you expect when one of your personal artistic influences dies the day after you purchase his last album?

Initial Reaction

After listening to Blackstar multiple times, and watching the “spectacle” of Lady Gaga’s Grammy tribute, I can safely say this is one of the Thin White Duke’s finest achievements, a record pulling from the melancholy of the Berlin trilogy and jazzing it up.  Yeah, yeah, bias be damned.

For projecting such a flamboyant stage presence, Bowie seemed to operate behind the camera’s eye.  Nobody, not even hailed producer and Berlin trilogy creative consultant, Brian Eno — whom Ziggy was scheduled to work with on a future project — knew how short the artist’s time was. Yet, Blackstar was recorded.  Blackstar dropped.

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Credit:  globo.com

The record delves deep in symbolism, from the star pieces in the cover spelling out Bowie, to the cryptic lyrics throughout its seven tracks.  This highlights the artistic realization of the musician, the finality of the moment.  So, does it all mean something?  Or, am I just bullshitting away for the sake of word count?  You tell me:

In the villa of Ormen, in the villa of Ormen/Stands a solitary candle, ah-ah, ah-ah/In the centre of it all, in the centre of it all/Your eyes

— David Bowie, “Blackstar,” Blackstar

Immediately, Bowie adds an occult, dark tone to a career smothered in glamour, drugs, sex, and good ol’ rock n’ roll.  The twelve personas stare into the flame and capture that feeling of hopeful isolation.  As the record rolls on to, “Lazarus,” and then closes with, “I Can’t Give Everything Away,” the message is simple and powerful, punctuated by the hopeless notes of a saxophone.  Bowie has said his goodbye to the the music world in the only suitable way.

An Influence

Bowie was a legend on the sheets of stardom.  He didn’t give a damn whether the mainstream market approved of his disco number or his funk experiment.  He certainly didn’t care if the masses disapproved of his support for minority musician airplay on national media. How many guys can enter the film world as Crotch and Big Hair — I mean, Labyrinth’s, the Goblin King, of course — and then, a few years later, jump on stage with Trent Reznor and seep venom into the crowd with Nine Inch Nails’ industrial rattle, “Reptile.”

Yet, through all of the collaborations, all of the media appearances, Bowie seemed to desire privacy in his personal life.  That’s why, on January 10, 2016, the music industry faced shock and reflection on just how much The Man Who Fell Down to Earth influenced the way music was composed, performed, recorded, and understood.

Bowie singlehandedly pioneered glam rock with Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars.  He brought experimentation to the mainstream, starting with the blues/soul/pop sensibilities of Station to Station and ending with the listener friendly, but serene, Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps).   Bowie continued this musical freedom into the eighties, where Let’s Dance and other do-whatever-the-fuck-Bowie-wants records came to fruition.  Let’s not even mention the amount of singles and classic tracks he pumped out;  “Under Pressure,” anyone? He was a fan of music as much as he was a creator, a trait evident in his — deceivingly random — performances with other musicians.

Basically, if Kanye West cites you as an influence, you know you broke some ground.

*Mic drop.

Pshhhh, I’m not going to end Bowie’s influence on a Kanye tweet.  That’s the last thing I want to do.  Either way, David Bowie’s stage presence itself brought theatrics into rock n’ roll, a flamboyant expression inspiring thousands to pick up the guitar, throw on — to mom and dad’s disappointment — a kimono and belt out some, “Wam, bam, thank you, ma’am!”

Bowie was a rock star who, quite simply, did not give a single fuck what the industry pushed or pulled. He performed and inspired artists to pursue what they wanted, rather than cater to the needs of a third party.  Of course, this led to fandom chaos, but, fortunately, each Bowie persona was met with embrace rather than alienation.  By the peak of his career, the Bowie brand was defined by the eccentricities and flamboyance of Ziggy Stardust.

Bringing it Down

So, it is no surprise that, in this perspective, Blackstar brings a different light to Bowie’s discography, one of sincere sadness, reflection, and longing.  Please forgive the pretentious pun. Anyways, take the pairing of the haunting, marching rhythm of, “Girl Loves Me,” and the somber, “Dollar Days.” Both tracks highlight this dark atmosphere, as well as push the boundaries of the musician’s instrumental focus.

As I previously said, Bowie was no enemy of collaboration.  However, instead of bringing in A-list or aged names, the album welcomes the talent of prominent jazz musicians.  This is not a typical solo artist, half assed vocal performance, where session musicians take a back seat to the ego of their employer.  Blackstar often leans on its studio musicians, especially in the umph of the title track and, “Girl Loves Me.”  The LP’s rhythm section, courtesy of drummer, Mark Guiliana, and Tim Lefebvre, balance complexity with rhythmic freedom; noticeable, but not distracting.  Their chemistry and poise develop Blackstar into a lesson on tasteful, musical freedom.  That’s hard to find in a record emphasizing a jazzy style.  The record also features a career performance by saxophonist, Donny McCaslin, whose horns bring out, “Lazarus’,” heavy subject matter, making tears nearly inevitable.

Vocally, Bowie doesn’t even sound like he’s aged.  There are moments where his voice adopts a rasp, but that only heightens the overall feel; that of a tired man facing the reality of his situation.  Sure, his voice is not quite at the quality level of, “Under Pressure,” or, “Heroes,” but there is no denying the emotion transmitted through tracks like the title piece and, “I Can’t Give Everything Away.”

A Final Look

Overall, Blackstar brings the audience to the darker, experimental side of David Bowie.  In his final record, he pulls ears in with explorations in jazz form, dark atmosphere, and cryptic lyrics, often alluding to past treasures in the likes of the Berlin Trilogy and his quintessential 70’s classics.  A beautiful transition from the idol to the human, Blackstar serves as both a celebration and ode to the life of a musician, that of excess, fear, longing, and fulfillment.  Whichever Bowie felt in his final moment, we’ll never know.

We love you, David Bowie.  You will be missed.  Rest in peace.

ALBUM RATING:  5/5

Disclaimer:  All rights, content, and property of the header image belong to its owner.  Image found at http://www.cnn.com/2016/01/11/entertainment/david-bowie-death/.   All rights, content, and property of the body image belong to its owner.  Image found at http://g1.globo.com/musica/blog/antonio-carlos-miguel/post/blackstar-de-david-bowie-geraldo-vandre.html.  I have, in no way, used said images for profit or personal gain.

 

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Review: Baroness – Purple

Does a trip into Floydian atmospheres save Baroness on their fouth LP release, Purple?  Not by much.

I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t really gotten into Baroness. I know that they have some freaking awesome album covers, all thanks to frontman, John Baizley, and their sound is placed deep in the stoner metal/sludge metal corner of metaldom.  Let’s say, Mastodon with a decent vocalist — well, maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself.  Baroness is a gateway band, a collection of everything that makes sludge/stoner music the delightfully muddy noise that it is.  However, Baroness enjoys throwing in a little atmosphere, here and there, and their latest album, Purple, brings this experiment to the forefront.

The latest primary color record is exactly what it sets out to be:  a combination of Blue[‘s] experimentation and Red[‘s] crunch.  It is clear, straight off, that the band decided to take a mainstream approach to songwriting, in that the structures are simple and melodic, but thick with metal textures.  Now, for the love ov God, don’t let that dreaded word, melodic, soil your skirt.  For the most part, this shit is lyrically and musically heavy. By throwing down hard rockers, such as, “Try to Disappear,” and adding beautiful, production-heavy flavors in the likes of, “Chlorine and Wine,” Baroness found their formula, not quite progressing or adding anything new, but merging the pieces found across their four LP discography into a sound summary.

Album singles, “Shock Me,” and “Chlorine and Wine,” have enough melody and technicality to keep the listener interested and show the bands’ musical maturity.  However, outside the more melodic, mass appealing tracks, we are served a helping of generic stoner rock/metal musings.  Take album opener, “Morningstar,” for example.  The track throws down some nice, sludgy riffs, but a lackluster, attempt for melody in the chorus throws the fan, and casual listener, off immediately.  Not a good way to start the album.

The entire album, unfortunately, suffers in this lack of engagement.  It’s nice.  It’s heavy.  It sounds pretty. But, have I wanted to go back for repeated listens? Not so much.  And, in the world of music reviews, this is the final nail in the coffin. Maybe my vision is obscured by Neurosis, Kyuss, Mastodon, and Melvins.  Maybe I’m turning into that typical, pretentious asshole again; who knows? Purple does little to add to the territory paved by their forebears, and that seems to be the overlying issue with the stoner subgenre.  It’s becoming too laid back.  See what I did there?

That said, the album’s production and technical value is top notch.  It’s clear to the listener that Baizley and co. understand the sound board and they create beautiful, atmospheric layers that touch a variety of emotions.  Again, I go to “Chlorine and Wine.”  By production alone, the track transcends beyond mere sludge and brings out the collective talent of the band members.   Just listen to the gorgeous intro and Devin Townsend-esque wall of sound in the track’s conclusion and you’ll see what I mean. The album’s mix also deserves attention.  Each instrument is crystal clear, the guitars and drums placed at the forefront to continue that in-your-face technique.

Baroness’ fourth LP is a trip into bittersweet sludge.  I want to like it, I really do, but the band deserves something more than a squeaky, polished edition of past explorations.  Oh, and please feel free to check out Baizley’s artwork.  It will really tie your room together.

RATING:  3/5

All rights, property, and content of the featured image belong to its owner.  Featured image found at http://www.tunescope.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Baroness-Purple-Announcement.jpg.  I have, in no way, used said image for profit or personal gain.

 

 

Review: Ghost – Meliora

Tobias Forge — ahem, Papa Emeritus III — and his band of ghouls continue their metal deception and push humanity further and further into darkness with their third LP, Meliora.

Let’s take a step back for a moment and appreciate that album art…

Done? Okay, let’s go!

Ghost’s evolution is one of the more interesting stories in the music scene.  These guys hit the market hard, pumping out “Satanic” heavy rock with a little gimmick attached.  Whether the band’s anonymity or music has more weight in their popularity is up to the listener.  Either way, the showmanship would ultimately falter at some point, but Ghost keeps coming back with hard hitting, catchy, fun material.  I will even go as far to say they will be the next big thing in rock, even with the whole Satan nonsense.

The key to this success is their listener friendly approach to metal.  I say “listener friendly” because melody, harmony, and 70’s style vocals are not exactly by-the-books metal fashion.  Their debut, Opus Eponymous, boasted the band’s heavier side, while still holding onto Blue Oyster Cult-isms like “Ritual” and “Elizabeth.”  Then, their sophomore performance, Infestissumam, added symphonic, poppy elements for wider appeal.  It worked.  And, their fan base grew.  You and I both know metal bands who broaden their sound are not exactly “praised” in the metal community.  Yet, as I said, it worked. Ghost’s 2015 release, Meliora, combines these styles into their strongest effort yet, a complete, fun, consistent compilation of Satanic pop metal.  If that’s not an oxymoron, I don’t know what is.

We open with Spirit,” an anthem that does well to introduce the style and overarching concept of the band.  I’ve noticed, throughout Ghost’s discography, a Nietzschen concept of Godlessness, not purely Satanic as critics are so quick to point out.  Of course, their message and lyrical landscapes are overwhelmingly Satanic, but within all the showy, creepiness lies a conceptual progression.  Ghost’s overarching message lays a path, progressing past Opus[‘] prophetic doom and Infestissuman[‘s] anti-Christ possession. “Spirit,” describes the world without God, utilizing choirs and symphonic elements to really drive that point home.  You won’t find any hope in this record, but by God — pun intended — will you feel pleasurably overwhelmed.

Although mostly guitar driven — check out “From the Pinnacle to the Pit” for riffage gold — the instrumentals take an early step back in favor of melodious, almost poppy verses and choruses.  Album single, “Cirice,” which is (not surprising) the album highlight, has goose bumps written all over it.  Stylistically complex, the track moves from a Sabbath-esque riff to a gorgeous chorus reflecting on the inner passion of humanity.  As usual, Papa’s vocals are hopeful, yet sinister and contribute to the unpredictable instrumentation:

Now there is nothing between us
From now our merge is eternal
Can’t you see that you’re lost?
Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?

-Ghost, Meliora, “Cirice”

The record then reaches poppy heights in the Abba ode, “He Is.”  Yes, you read that right.  Abba ode. This is probably the only love song to Satan in existence. If not for the lyrics, this track could very well stand in the U.S. charts as an allusion to the ol’ 70’s Swedish pop movement.  It’s hard not to appreciate the risk the band took with this track.  I mean, let’s face it, metalheads aren’t exactly known for accepting pop anthems from their idols.

Don’t confuse ambition with dumbed down songwriting, however, because Meliora does not lack for heaviness.  “Majesty,” “Absolution,” and “From the Pinnacle to the Pit,” each feature enough driving riffs and general badassery to make even the most skeptical headbanger nod their head.  What separates Meliora’s songwriting from the band’s preceding performances is consistent variety.  Each track can stand on its own, but meld together to give the album a distinct identity.

Meliora is the product of an experienced outfit.  From the mature experimentation to the surprisingly catchy songwriting, Ghost continues their dominance over the metal industry.  I think it’s safe to say this is an Album of the Year contender.

RATING:  4.75/5

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Live Review: Ghost – Black to the Future Tour 2015

Smoke, costumes, and Satan. What else can you ask from Swedish phenom, Ghost?

Okay, picture this:  you get tickets for this little band called Ghost or Ghost B.C., whatever the hell the United States music industry uses to sabotage the band’s namesake.  You don’t exactly know much about them besides the fact they make kickass shirts and walk around in costumes.  After wading through an explosive, psychedelic attack from English mind burners, Pursun, you think, “Hey, this might be an interesting show, an acid rock meets Halloween-type stunt with theatrics.”  Yet, then you notice that, for the first time in a long time, the concert venue is freezing cold.  Incense burns at the stage corners, gregorian chants echo from the speakers, and soon, the Nameless Ghouls start ripping at their instruments.  The crowd swells as Papa Emeritus — the anti-pope — cues set opener, Spirit, with Satanic madness.  This is a metal show, through and through.

I was converted.

It was obvious, as soon as the doors opened, that this was going to be an interesting spectacle.  Cosplayers — yes, you read that right — were scattered throughout the venue, inside and out.  Shit, I don’t even know why I’m writing like that’s a bad thing.  I even took some photos with a Nameless Ghoul before his inspiration started their set.  Near the end of the performance, Papa himself acknowledged a well done imitation, so every other viewpoint is void.  If Papa Emeritus says it is good. It is so.  And so it is.

“And don’t you forget it.”

But, that’s besides the point.  The crowd, for a medium sized venue, was passionate and loud, contributing to the experience with chants and sing-alongs.  For instance, with little guidance, every voice echoed from the rafters during, “Per Aspera Ad Inferi,” and it was obvious the band fed from the atmosphere, especially the guitarists, who, despite being masked, produced an electrifying, but dark stage presence. It was obvious these were no ordinary, rookie musicians trying to make it big.  They knew what the fuck they’re doing. Yet, we’ll probably never know their identity.  Once the haze surrounding Ghost’s lore disappears, and the world decides to pick on Slipknot again, we’ll ultimately learn that Jackson Browne and Dave Grohl decided to pursue that metal career they always wanted.  Don’t believe me?  The latter is actually probable.

So, enough about stage presence.  Who wants to read about atmosphere in a live review anyways?  Let’s talk about the goddamn music! I like to think of Ghost’s sound as if 70’s pop/hard rock took a stage dive into hell.  It’s odd. It’s enchanting.  It’s evil as hell. The setlist moved between the band’s three LP’s, providing a nice balance between heavy, balls to the wall metal anthems, courtesy of their debut record, to mid-tempo, atmospheric movements, and Abba-esque balladry. Oh, them Swedes…You Ghost fans know what track I’m talking about. Don’t get me wrong, “He Is,” is a damn great pop song, complete with moving melodies and beautiful harmonies.  Yet, it’s absolutely hilarious to see five musicians perform such an uplifting song about Satan.

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There was plenty of chaos to go around, from the explosive rendition of the band’s breakout track, “Ritual,” to their closing anthem, “The Monstrance Clock.”  Yes, at times the band sounded almost too good, all thanks to the playback guy doing what playback guys do.  Or, is it the sound guy? There’s so many “guys” in a production.  However, playback was expected.  The band utilizes multiple vocal layers in tracks like, “The Monstrance Clock,” and, “Deus Culpa,” not to mention bombastic, wall of sound production in tracks like “Infestissumam.”  God, I wished they performed that song. “Per Aspera Ad Infeni” didn’t feel the same without its over-the-top introduction.  Anyways, you guys get the point.  Ghost can’t be at fault for adding layers to the live production.

Overall, Ghost showed St. Louis why they are one of the leading modern metal/hard rock acts.  They brought theatrics in a hyperbolic sense, never quite taking themselves too seriously, but pushing boundaries enough to hike up the creepy factor.  It was all in good fun, a night punctuated by a classic hard rock sound, which, along with Pursun’s psychedelic introduction, provided audience members a nostalgic experience.  These guys can fucking play.  Go see them and bow for Lucifer’s Son!

RATING:  5/5

Disclaimer:  All rights, content, and properties of the header image belong to its owner.  Image found at http://i.ytimg.com/vi/CnJ0i2AipXY/maxresdefault.jpg.  All rights, content, and properties off body image 1 belong to its owner.  Image found at https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/501584135958171648/T0qqgVxF.jpeg.  I have, in no way, used said images for profit.

Review: Paradise Lost – The Plague Within

After a series of more commercial airings, Paradise Lost returns to their gothic/doom roots with their 2015 LP release, The Plague.

Doom metal is one of those metal subgenres that should stand higher amongst the metal community.  Black Sabbath basically coined its inception in Master of Reality: slowed, downtuned tempo, and lyrics exploring melancholic subjects, i.e. “Into the Void.” However, the genre remains a backdrop to the waves upon waves of hardcore/metalcore/posthardcore/whatever-core outfits.  But, that’s okay.  Over here at Reviews From the Other Side, that’s just the way we like it.  At least the doom movement produced some of the heaviest sounds in existence, if not in sound, then attitude.  Even HIM — or more specifically, Ville Valo — tries, every now and then, to mention their “doomy” sound.  To which Electric Wizard comes out, and with three earth shattering notes, sends the Hot Topic fiends back to their holes.  I guess it’s an understatement to say the entire doom genre is respected, but popular? Okay, that’s enough ramblings with the word doom.  Well, maybe a couple more times.

Out of the doom movement came a trifecta of sad sacks, who aspired for melody atop the mother genre’s head lowering riffs:  Paradise Lost, Anathema, and My Dying Bride.  Coining “gothic metal,” Paradise Lost stands as one of the most inspirational doom metal outfits of the 90’s.  The band always walked the lines of gothic metal in albums Icon and, you guessed it, Gothic.  They solidified that desire with Draconian Times.  As their songwriting matured, the band then explored more commercial territories, leaving behind the slow, plodding death/doom riffs and growling vocals of their namesake.  Even vocalist, Nicholas Holmes, started to stagnate, his performances uninspired and directionless.  He’s always been too Hetfield for my taste, so it’s not like I listened to Paradise Lost for their powerful, soaring vocals.  2015, however, saw a return to form.  With The Plague Within, Paradise Lost crushed metaldom with lead single, “Beneath Broken Earth,” a straight, doom metal track serving as a memento to the despair of the 90’s death/doom movement.  The single promised slow, heavy, dark.  And, boy did they follow up.

The Plague Within is a record blessed with an ear for its fanbase.  Straight from the get go, “No Hope In Sight” alludes to Draconian Times, with poison-laced guitar melodies and an overarching doom riff.  Short, sweet, hopeless. That’s the Paradise Lost fans were screaming for.  That’s the record they got, well, with a little — and by that, I mean a lot — of exploration and experimentation.  Now, for a band as experienced as Paradise Lost, I originally expected more evolution, something fresh separating The Plague Within from its predecessors.  Sure, there’s the return of Holme’s growls, even some double bass and plodding tracks throughout, but the album doesn’t progress musically.  The band promised a return album years ago.  Perhaps, the band discovered, four albums later, they were alienating their fanbase.  Or, probably the easiest guess, perhaps the record label was tired of their shit.  Either way, all I can say is: welcome home.

By the time “Eternity of Lies” hit its climactic, catchy midsection, I remembered why I listened to Paradise Lost in the first place.  Paradise Lost embodies the romanticism of goth and buries it behind layers death.  This binary of musical emotions, complete with powerful drums and the occasional piano melody, returns in The Plague Within, ultimately sounding more Paradise Lost than, say Believe In Nothing. You get every metal influence in this album, from the brutality of “Flesh From Bone,” to, as previously stated, pure, unadulterated doom in “Beneath Broken Bone.”  “Eternity of Lies” is a future Paradise Lost classic, embodying the band’s trademark descent into beauty.  For the first time, I actually enjoyed Nick Holmes’ studio performance.  Throughout the album, the veteran vocalist tackles multiple styles, showing versatility not seen since pre-Icon. Yes, his growls have aged, but what can you expect from an aged growler.

Axemen Greg Mackintosh and Aaron Aedy are the unsung heroes of Paradise Lost.  “No Hope In Sight,” for instance, exploits the band’s mastering of the acid riff, a “less is more” approach.  They play off each other seamlessly, and when they find that “sweet” progression, they attack until the music bursts with catharsis.  Go back and listen to “Yearn For Change,” from Draconian Times — I apologize for the frequent mentions — and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about. It’s only fitting that closer, “Return to the Sun,” pushes the album to its creative heights, highlighted by Holmes’ emotional clean/harsh vocal combo.  Oh, and I guess the choir and symphony helps.  All around, a complete, metal performance.

Overall, Paradise Lost’s The Plague Within succeeds in its nostalgic quality, a worthy return to form after a set of directionless releases.  Although the album lacks musical progression, the band continues to remind listeners of their influence on the metal community.  A solid production, through and through.

RATING:  4/5 

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Review: Danny Brown – Old

Danny Brown shocks in his 2013 LP, Old, spinning listener’s heads with complex lyrics while staying firmly grounded in Detroit’s streets.

My discovery of Danny Brown is embarrassing, to say the least.  I owe it to ICP.  I won’t even spell out their name.  Born and bred in Illinois, I sometimes delve deep into the state’s underground music movement because I’m a masochistic son’ buck.  If you’re from Illinois, you’d understand that’s an understatement for the sake of…hell, here we go.  You see, there’s this little music “festival” that occurs every year in Cave Rock called The Gathering of the Juggalos.  Where, you say? Exactly.

Illinois treats the festival like a rich father treats his drug dealer son.  You know he’s there, and you know he makes money, but like hell if the neighbors found out! Anyways, vicarious as I was, I decided to watch a documentary on the festival.  Sure, the people looked friendly and so on and so forth, and the music wasn’t too cringe worthy — minus the annoying “woot woots” and juggalos jerking off to “family” philosophy — but then the camera cut to a performance by Danny Brown. I was just getting into Hip Hop at the time, more old school than modern, but that’s personal taste.  I don’t even know what song he performed, but I do know that, at that moment, I searched for Brown’s latest gem, Old.

I was pleased.  Very pleased.

Danny Brown brands himself with two identities:

1. His psychotic, turn-loose party persona.

2. His introspective, serious commentator persona.

Old follows XXX through its use of duality. Whereas XXX reached for seriousness as the tracks progressed, Old fades deeper and deeper into madness.  At one moment, he may rap about his horrific upbringing, and at another moment, jump around the club accompanied by schizophrenic beats. The music even follows this trend, travelling time in the old school vibe of “Danny Brown (Old),” tapping societal issues in “25 Bucks” and then exploding into “Smokin’ and Drinkin’.” There’s a lot of material on this album.  And I mean, a lot.

“Torture” stood out with its lyrical sincerity, how Danny beats the listener over the head with tales of drug use, street crime, domestic abuse and general disgust with an honest delivery.  In the background, producer OH NO lays down a haunting, atmospheric beat that accents Danny’s lyrics for maximum impact.  Emotional, that’s how I would describe the album’s A side. Yet, Danny Brown’s emotion leaks through every track on this album.  “25 Bucks,” with its social commentary, follows Old[‘s] concept as a “wake up” piece.  Danny’s lyrical awareness and storytelling ability shines in this track:

Now I’m trapped in the trap and the devil ain’t forgetting/Wanna see me dead or locked in a prison.

-Danny Brown, “25 Bucks,” Old (2015)

Of course, Old doesn’t consistently keep up with this introspective, serious subject matter.  Done poorly, inconsistent songwriting is an album’s crutch, especially at RFTOS.  However, for some reason, the club-centered tracks follow the album’s concept of regression.  Hell, this probably isn’t even a concept album and I’m just filling your heads with bullshit.  What is a review without some bullshit, though?  This is the music industry!  As the album delves into its “madness,” the party anthems surge loud and proud, punctuated by scattered production values.  I won’t dock points for the lyrics.  Think, sex and drugs explained creatively, with some serious “what the fuck?!” moments.  That’s not too far from a description of Rock n’ Roll, come to think of it.

Danny’s flow is as unique as it is chaotic.  As previously stated, his overarching flow moves in two directions.  For faster paced beats, he explores his higher pitched, nonsensical timbre.  Meanwhile, “Torture,” and the album’s more serious tunes bring a vocal drop. Yet, there’s constant rhythm and movement in Danny’s voice, a refreshing use of energy without being consumed by said energy, if that makes any sense.  Production wise, the beats are well crafted and succeed in their lack of distraction.  A solid effort from all involved.

With his third LP, Old, Danny Brown attached emotion to his trademark flow, creating an interesting album of multiple perspectives.  Truly, a classic in the making.

RATING:  4.5/5

Disclaimer:  Featured image and all its content, properties, and rights belong to the artist.  Image found on http://abcnews.go.com/ABC_Univision/Entertainment/important-things-danny-browns-debut-album/story?id=20433997. I have, in no way, used said image for profit.

Review: Death – Leprosy (Reissue)

Death’s Leprosy changed the game of death metal.  Despite its fiscal intentions, the album’s reissue emits a balanced and polished re-imagining of Schuldiner’s groundbreaking early career.

That last review left a bad taste in my mouth.  There’s only so much mediocre popular music I can take before I want to bash my head into a wall.  Just thinking out loud here, man.  I’m a hipster, metal elitist, remember?  To combat music withdrawals, I decided to shake some things up by putting my iPod on shuffle — I mean, whose iPod ever failed them? — and reviewing the first result.  “Pull the Plug,” it told me. Nah, let’s go!

Reissues, for the most part, are usually low on my scale of “Holy shit, I need to buy this.”  For one, they’re an obvious cash grab, and in the case of Death, it’s not hard to profit off of one of metal’s legendary songwriters, Chuck Schuldiner.  It’s a difficult truth, but come on!  I mean, throw in some bonus tracks, muddy live recordings, turn up the volume, slap on a remastered label and…money! I get it.  Honor, love, nostalgia, they’re all buzzwords to open wallets.  Leprosy and all of Death’s reissues are simple milk jobs designed to tap the metal market. Metalheads will probably burn me at the stake for damaging such a brand, but at Reviews From the Other Side, we analyze the entire aspect of the music industry.  So, here’s to you, Relapse Records.

Fuck, I must just be in a bad mood.  Let’s talk about the goddamn music.  Leprosy is, by and by, as brutal as they come.  From the get go, Chuck belts out one of his most demented screams, and that alone is a highlight and point producing moment.  I hate to open every album review with the first track, but the album’s opener — and title track — is Schuldiner’s traditional death metal peak, where everything, from the solo, to the simple, driving riffs, even the boom-hiss drum pattern, melds together.  If you don’t thrash after hearing that opening scream, then…this music isn’t for you.  Ha, thought I was going to say something witty, didn’t you?  Yeah, “Leprosy.” Fucking death metal, man! The album then rides “Leprosy[‘s]” wake with “Born Dead,” a never-ending onslaught of ascending guitar patterns and Chuck’s evil vocals.

There’s something unique in Chuck’s voice.  It’s not quite a growl, and it certainly isn’t by-the-books singing.  Hell, it isn’t even a Hetfield “shyeah!” Where Michael Akerfeldt overwhelms, Chuck Schuldiner strikes the soul, even thrashes in Death’s debut, Scream Bloody Gore. What’d you expect, with a title like that? But here, Leprosy, brings out the best of his screams, growls, shouts, and groans, throwing down one hell of an atmospheric performance.  “Pull the Plug,” one of Death’s more recognizable tunes, utilizes this excruciating experience in its simple chorus — which, you guessed it, just repeats the title — with chilling precision.  For 1988, Chuck’s voice was a horror show and influenced an entire, extreme metal genre.  Kind of funny that the “godfather of death metal” donned cat shirts while his contemporaries spawned camo and dreadlocks.

The drums, although muddled — something I didn’t expect in a “remaster” — work well for what they are, not too complex, but not simple, either.  As previously stated, the only issue is I can’t hear Bill Andrew’s performance!  Behind thrashing guitars, the drum performance is as follows: rumbles followed by a snare/high hat alternation. What’s with that snare sound, anyways? Gene Hoglan comes in later, so that piece of the puzzle gets fixed.  Meanwhile, the guitars are exactly what you’d expect from a Death record.  Outstanding. “Pull the Plug,” “Born Dead,” “Leprosy,” and “Choke on It,” have their moments of slayer-esque nonsensical noodling, but as the riffs progress, Schuldiner adds some foreshadowing prog into the mix.  The guitars never stop, and every lick, riff, solo, and interlude are thought out with the mind of a thrasher-gone-death-head. Don’t believe me when I say Chuck is one of music’s greatest guitarists? Check out “Leprosy.” If the riffs don’t get you, then the solo most certainly will.

I won’t go into the album’s mix. It’s a louder version of the original recording. That’s it.

Summary:  Brutal, brutal and brutal.  Death’s 1988 LP, Leprosy, is the definition of death metal.

RIP Chuck Schuldiner.

RATING: 4.5/5

Disclaimer:  Featured image, and all of its properties, rights, and content belong to the owner.  Image found on http://imgsoup.com/1/death-leprosy-wallpaper/. Body image, and all of its properties, rights, and content belong to the owner.  Image found on http://zero-tolerance.skyrock.com/132986024-Chuck-with-his-cat.html. I have, in no way, used said images for profit.