Sepultura have never been interested in living off of previous successes. Respect the past, guitarist Andreas Kisser always stresses, without being bound by it. And with each new album, they stretch the goalposts a little farther, experiment a little more. Machine Messiah (Nuclear Blast) sees them pushing their creative inspirations further than ever before while maintaining the spirit and strength that has allowed them to thrive for over 30 years.

Machine Messiah, while not a concept album per se, plays like the soundtrack to a movie we are living every day, one of humankind’s struggle to embrace technology without becoming absorbed and obsessed by it. The album is complex and challenging, at times progressive and poignant, unflinchingly brave and brilliant from the unsettling opening notes of the title track through to the final chaotic guitar solo in ‘Cyber God’.

Technically, the individual members set the bar incredibly high for their own performances. The result is a seemingly bottomless stew of chunky riffs and tasty leads that sees Kisser firmly seated in that rare family of musicians who has his own inimitable signature style. Derrick Green effortlessly transitions from dulcet crooning to screams, baritone growls to hypnotic chants. Eloy Casagrande, now on his second album with the band, continues to astonish; this little monster making every rhythmic measure sound like a drum solo without, somehow, overdoing it, while Paulo Jr. deftly treads that fine line between strengthening the low-end of Kisser’s riffs and locking in with Casagrande’s distinctly Brazilian groove.

In terms of standout moments, there is ‘Phantom Self’, with its crushing staccato verse hooks and infectious chorus, and an intense duel between frenetic violins and Kisser’s leads. Who wins this battle? The listener, that’s who! Instrumental ‘Iceberg Dances’ manages to incorporate Brazilian rhythms and melodies, reminiscent of 1993’s ‘Kaiowas’, a delicious classical guitar break and a Hammond organ, no less! The furious ‘Silent Violence’ and ‘Vandals Nest’ would have fit perfectly on Beneath the Remains (Roadrunner), the latter showcasing some stellar melodic vocals.

And then there’s ‘Sworn Oath’, majestic and grandiose; the type of song that sends chills up your spine and makes you want to fight frost giants.

Without discrediting the work Sepultura has done in the last 20 years, this album should be the one that finally silences the noisy minority clamouring for a return to days (and line-ups) long gone by. Haters be damned; this IS Sepultura. And it is glorious.

Bow down to Machine Messiah.

 

8.0/10

JASON KOROLENKO