Andrew Danso

This is a release completely paying tribute to Mark Giltrow, who died in 2006, and was best known in the metal world to be the brains behind Primary Slave. He actually had all of this material ready for the final cut, before his untimely death, and since then, the band have endeavoured to put together an album spanning all of his ideas which he left behind. There’s a difficulty with this kind of record being released as commodity, alongside a tribute. With the upmost respect, time will truly tell how much Giltrow actually is Primary Slave, and if the band will go onto survive without him.

Obstacles aside, it’s difficult to know where this material stands in an album that has tunes polished and ready for the market, along with some other tracks bare boned in comparison, as if they were still lurking around the demo stage. It makes for a fractured experience; you no doubt realise the sheer scope of Primary Slaves production on the fully fleshed numbers “Powdered”, “Defiled”, “Eyes Feel Free”, and on the other hand “The Game” and “C.R.E.A.M.” feel sparse because of their rawness.

What got everybody's goat on Primary Slaves previous, “Data Plague”, was defining them in a single buzzword, and to their credit, it’s still difficult today. There’s an industrial harshness about “Another Mark Is Drawn”. It feels metallic and cold through its production, and it’s driven by the ‘chorus-effect’ vocal, similar to Sonny Sandoval’s early work in P.O.D. Crucially though, there’s a commercial entity throughout, like a handful of the more computer based Fear Factory stuff (think Transgression), late White Zombie, and dashes of Alabama Three.

Yet, this isn’t an album that’ll be remembered for anything blistering on the disc, but it should stick for Giltrow’s own musical accessibility – the fact that five years on, his three brothers who are part of Primary Slave, are able to resurrect the project, owes much to Giltrow’s own vivid musical imagination. Even if he’s not present, finding a path for his ideas is something everyone should be able to discover.

7/10 Powerplay issue #142

Is this meant to be funny? Already we’re off to a bad start, but this is a bizarre formula. “Discoteque Tranny” translates to what I can assume to be ‘Tranny Disco’, as in ‘Transsexual Disco’. So is the emphasis on undercut teenage humour? The kind of stuff Bloodhound Gang grew famous (or infamous) for in the late 90s, with the release of “Hooray for Boobies”? Sorry for the puzzlement, but it goes a long way in explaining just how a bands identity, built through album promo, press release notes, art, and a no-less spectacular name, Hayley’s Royal Whores, can get far and away lost in music, which lo and behold, isn’t even teetering on the edge of laughter.

For weight of argument, comedy, and especially rock music, isn’t necessarily easy to pull off. Even Devin Townsend recently wrote about the humour littered across his multitude of work, that it was something he would be looking to “avoid” because it “didn’t have the desired effect” in the context of his metal. Not that Hayley’s Royal Whores are a metal band by any stretch of the imagination, nor do they have the kind of production tools behind them which Mr Townsend employs, but it demonstrates a gravitas to the problems comedy and rock based music usually wrestle with. Tim Minchin can do it with a piano, Bill Bailey with the Theremin, Tenacious D in the rock opera sphere, but bare boned rock comedy? It’s a dead art.

So if this isn’t funny, what’s it got going for it? Not much. It’s an album written in a pop-rock sensibility, residing with the likes Blink 182, Weezer, and Bloodhound Gang. The bands previous efforts came by way of goth rock projects, and it’s easy to hear passages laden in synth work, The Birthday Massacre would be proud of. The vocal throughout is weak, and under-performed, along with the records production being precariously flat, for a band that seek to move you enough to laugh. Perhaps “Discoteque Tranny’s” B-lined, B movie construction is part of the gag.

You’re left wondering if the joke’s on the critic? Their surnames have even been altered with comedic intentions (let’s see if you laugh): Pasi ‘Crash’, Teukka Von ‘Terror’, Teme ‘Schnaps’, and Kuha ‘Spears’. I’ll hold my hands up. I really don’t get it.

3/10 Powerplay issue #142

Swedish and Intelligence are constantly intertwining when it comes to artsy rock, perhaps at the expense of muscle, and that’s not any different when it comes to “Joint Clash”. That’s not to say this isn’t different or experimental, but something of an emerging trend; when it comes to a native translation of Swede prog rock, it tends to be broken down to us Brits, as an off-beat stranger in rock music. Maybe it hints at our national acceptance for label-based rock? Let’s hope not.

Switch Open’s languid play style, and dirty sound, might go a long way in referencing a 'joint' for the laid back, stoner feeling it contains, but rest assured, their sound is much more steady in the brain, than that of illegal chemicals. Switch Open don’t lumber around the place, but elegantly stroll throughout their progressive plains, occasionally stretching their legs when a chorus needs it and tinker thoroughly in instrumentation when it comes to filling space, or building on a tune for production sake. Like Jack Endino’s work with Slave Traitor or the well-beaten path of Tool, most prog-rockers won’t be put off by “Joint Clash’s” relatively slower pace, in light of its dazzling effects.

7/10 Powerplay issue #142

What’s the point in doing In Flames when In Flames can do themselves just fine? It’s the age-old copycat train of thought, but in Synasthasia’s case, they’ve had to start somewhere. A common theme spanning through bands starting up, is to perfect their craft on whatever’s inspired them to pick an instrument up in the first place. What comes next is usually what matters, when they finally find their feet on the second project.

“Style Collector” isn’t so much a collection of ideas, but the expression of one singular vision - that being a late sounding In Flames. To their credit, with whatever budget that’s been gathered, they’ve put together a decent sounding production, that does show off their talents reasonably well, considering the genre we’re bashing around in. There’s a few good riffs in here too, and the occasional vocal splattered on top, does help to give the tracks a decent hook when the choruses fire up. Then again, it’s nothing we’re writing home about; this exists inside of an exhausted genre because of its commercial appeal, which lifts much more from the pop charts than it does invent ideas of its own. A patronising, yet fitting ‘promising’, underlines this debut.

5/10 Powerplay issue #142

Metal and 80s nostalgists seem to be living on forever, evident in Crimson Cult, the latest sounding leather wearers drenched in guitar licks and raspy vocal performances, you no doubt became enchanted with when you were an awkward, angsty teen. But that’s just the problem, this is an album satirically withheld in a period over three decades old. For any other genre, it’s labelled resurgence; but in metal it’s still considered a ‘tribute’ to bawdy traditions. And yet, to think that the tradition of your droning teenage life probably inspired you to the edgy metal plains of 1980... building tradition within a period seems, well, very un-metal.

So what about the actual music? Graze around the plains of Megadeth’s “Rust In Peace”, Metallica’s “Ride The Lightening”, some late Iron Maiden thrashing, and there you have “Tales of Doom”, albeit a much lesser concoction than that great list. Opener “State of Fear” chugs along similar to Megadeth’s “Holy Wars” with a Bruce Dickinson (Iron Maiden) inspired vocal slapped on top. It’s a performance that is acceptable at best, but clumsy most of the time, not through its tonality, but through the sheer amount of syllables vocalist Walter Stüfer wants to get in on top of the riff. In microcosm this is how the remaining album plays out, sticking thoroughly by the old school, and clumsily wrecking its head on 80s technicalities. Some fresh ideas, please.

5/10 Powerplay issue #142

It’s actually not as easy as you’d think to dismiss a band that purposefully sound so ugly, and so disorientated - that despite every inch of your body telling you to stop it, you refuse to press that square shaped stop button. Hardcore bands never get away from their fascination with challenging an audience, and to their credit Biipiigwan really do give it a go, droning on and on with angry riffing, engaged in making as upsetting an atmosphere as possible, perhaps outside of an actual riot. It probably is trash, but if it’s intentions are to simply rattle a few rubbish bins until they fall apart, “God’s Hooks” does the job.

Fitting it all into a genre is a stormy teacup, but apart from its laboured thrash sections, it’s easier to stamp it all in hardcore. These Canadians go a lot like As We Fight, or The Pyske Project, romping along fearlessly on their guitars and consistently belching vocals, inaudible to the ear. It’s all been put together as a kind of sonic assault, to get wrapped up in, than something for your mind to wrestle with consciously.

But that’s just the problem: If you’re not within the moment, it all sounds like a jumbled repetitive mess. It’s ordinarily hardcore, and sparks up the whole heart versus brain debate, which Biipiigwan really ought to find more balance within, than siding completely for the big old heart. If you’re listening, take a step back and refresh your sonic perspective – you’ll likely loose interest. It’s a shame these blokes haven’t done the same.

5/10 Powerplay issue #142

Split albums are often tricky to get right. Contrary to this being an actual album (it’s a three track EP), my main concern before getting both bands sussed out, was if they’d gel together to make a fluid experience. Or are they both sharing disc space to help promote one another, because they’re mates outside of the illusionary world of music? Well, maybe they are buddies, but thankfully, the two acts compliment each other, almost carefully throughout playback.

Clean Kitchen open up the affair in more of a vibe-cum-jam, initially slouching along, building on layers of distorted guitars and plodding drums, before they get their hands dirty in a disjointed workout, something Primus might get away with producing. The intention of the jam is interesting, helping to introduce the material in an anticipatory way, yet it’s certainly misleading; both of these bands are in their element outside of a groove, outside of focus. They’re on the disc together because they’re ultimately messy together, and it’s a treat when Clean Kitchen begin to fire on all cylinders toward the remaining two minutes of the opener.

Silent Front are much more predatory in comparison – the mayhem is accentuated by Clean Kitchens constraint. The chaos works similarly to hardcore, but not quite on its post-Acidic-trippy levels; Silent Front are more methodical than most hardcore or math workouts. It’s a sophisticatedly British sounding band too, spearheaded by a Damon Albarn (Blur) sounding vocal, performed by Phil Mann, who carries the material with strength as the band manically proceed – he sounds strained and choked, and it works well in the aesthetic of their disjointed headbanging. Dillinger Escape Plan may well be a reasonable point to start if we’re looking for a straight edged, mainstream comparison, then again, definition in the hardcore genre is tough, and DEP aren’t anything to go by for British sounding production values (and can they be considered 'hardcore'?). What’s best about Silent Front is the nature of how they get into the groove of their music; it feels underplayed, matter of fact. They plug in, consciously make a racket, and drop the mic.

8/10 Silent Front / A Clean Kitchen Is A Happy Kitchen split (Bandcamp)

‘What a bunch of head cases’ you might say in response to hearing the EP played back in your kitchen. Not that they’re a little madcap or that the music echelons into the candid territories of white-noise, it’s just that somehow, they’ve put their adlib and improvised riffs into fully structured, metal tracks. It’s convincing. Tied in knots like the metal-cum-jazz fleeting Ephel Duath, Castles pull off their complications with a great amount of aplomb, staying toe-to-toe with some kind of structure; but they're more an unpredictable animal, the more you try and conform their sound to a single buzzword or schmaltzy phrase.

‘The punk end of hardcore metal with a capital P’ is probably the best you’re getting out of this snobby critic. Or, the most therapeutic migraine you’ll get, for under a tenner. Take your pick.

9/10 Powerplay #140

Despite the casual image, Lay Siege are focused on grinding through a brand of metal that’s dissonant and visceral in feeling. “Obolus” is an EP that not only displays talent through well written formula, but the record feels as if it’s exploring the unseen depths of your belly, in fits of horrific angst. Convincing is not just a buzzword attached to this fledgling quartet, it’s the darn truth.

Opening track “Explorer” is energetic in progression, but it’s laced in those dramatic, discordant chords, with the slightest of nods to both Virus and Bloodbath. They stick to their guns throughout, not chopping the material for want of a different theme, or unconfident in the darkness they’re exploring. This is an imaginary, well-crafted diabolical experience, from a young and untested bunch – judging by the rate of superlatives spluttered, their loathing really pleases us.

8/10 Powerplay #140

Tool are often referenced in spite of the hopeful act not sounding anything like them, but only by a means of being alternative prompts the comparison (that's probably to do with not knowing you sound like, or a dose of identity crisis - in ATQOs case, it's probably a bit of both). Always The Quiet Ones single “Freak Show” stands around the commercial arena of Scottish band, Biffy Clyro, and treading lightly on the visceral riffing that Tool or A Perfect Circle tend to chop through – however, this is tame stuff in comparison.

That’s not to say ATQO are any better or worse for it; they clamour through their energetic rock with an American-indie sensibility, that’s a little quirky, thematic and weaved in personality. A Clyro knock-off this isn’t: there are delicate progressions pushing things along different hard rock regions, which help keep the record sharp and unpredictable, even if the tracks follow nauseating, familiar patterns. The tight production also gives them a leg up, for what is a pretty convincing debut.

7/10 Powerplay #140

Are Rizon serious-minded, or quid-quo-pro parody? We think it’s the former. “Masquerade” combines not one toe-curling genre but two, that’s becoming something of a standard trend to follow, when creating euro-metal. Putting Scandinavian metal beside power-rock is going to create something fairly familiar, and Rizon create an indulgent package that’s completely histrionic, and almost paradoxically defunct of emotion. Despite the entire collective giving it all they’ve got – notably the vocal improvises groans and yelps in between the actual lyrics – it’s the lack of balance in their emotional drama which tears the material apart. Put better: How can drama be drama when drama’s happening all the time? Got it? Yep, thought so.

That’s not to say there’s isn’t a niche for “Masquerade” to slot right into, which by its very definitions will find great comfort within that lukewarm, melodic section of a power-rock catalogue. Be warned Manowar, and Turisas fans, here’s a band to rival your fluffy-cheesy fun. Well, maybe not half as much fun.

2/10 Powerplay #140

This is hardcore at its most rootsy, bent on capturing the brutality of the verse and thinly sung chorus. It’s interesting to hear the kind of impact Meshuggah are having on metal in its modernity, as more and more bands turn to an eight stringed assault outside of the Swede’s experimental bubble. But with a twist, Confession often riff on their lowly strung guitars throughout the verse, and pep up the choruses with the strumming of chords, layered with a specific vocal style, which goes a long way to characterise crummy teen dramas – indeed the contrasts here are stark.

It’s almost like Oceano and Sum 41 spawning a lovechild, but only on the special circumstance that the child can go completely bonkers in one second, and then on the flick of a switch, become crummy and fragile; Houston we have a balancing issue. It’s not an original or artsy style that you need to familiarise yourself with – In Flames’ recent material combines the two on the less extreme, Trivium the same. The problem here is the extent of polarisation that’s happening. The nigh Meshuggah down-tuned assault, eclipsing in a Blink 182 chorus isn’t designed to read well, never mind sound good.

Better to forget about quantum time signatures - this is truly the stuff you’ll want to scratch the back of your eyes over.

3/10 Powerplay #140

The most difficult pill to swallow when it comes to FeedForward, is that the band themselves take it all with militant seriousness, blind to the sophomoric nature of the work. It should be a huge amount of nostalgic fun, but instead, it all washes off into whimsical daftness.

Their riffing owes influence to the likes of Marillion and Whitesnake; inevitably when the vocal gets raging they sound like most progressive-cum-eighties conversions of Nightwish. They’re an ambitious collective though, with the tracks often fractured enough to warrant an arrangement slinging in early Nightwish (think “Elvenpath”) – which is much less of a complement than you might think.

Early Nightwish was haggardly under produced, and it puts into focus that aspiring progressive acts really ought to leap onto a producers shoulders to convert their big ideas into something believable; needed to create the dips in energy for the verse extensions not to wearingly drag on, and clever twists to swirl the elements in a track. Three amps, a microphone, and a drum kit, simply isn’t enough anymore.

5/10 Powerplay #140

Blood Ceremony are a kind of doom-stoner prestige, riffing around veins that Sabbath pioneered, occasionally dressing up their progressions with a finger-popping organ, and the odd flute line – this is very much an old school 70s affair. They’d go along with tagging their music 'psychedelic' or 'trip' to add substance to what is a niche genre, very much in hibernation. But it's not true, as Blood Ceremony capture more of an old-time groove in their flow than anything experimental.

The undercooked production and underplayed performance by the Canadian rockers is to be expected in what they’re trying to achieve; even the guitars when riffing throughout their “War Pigs”-esque, “I’m Coming With You” are sloppy in their take, which goes at quite a length to give the band a quality of authenticity through the cans (as well as lead vocalist, Alia O’Brien, sounding somewhat tanked off her feet).

6/10 Powerplay #140