Tag Archives: Texas

Die Young – No Illusions

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“Everything is bigger in Texas,” the saying goes. Now, I don’t know about the size of the gentlemen of Texas outfit Die Young, but what I do know is that they are not messing around. As no-nonsense as their message, their newest effort No Illusions (Good Fight Music) starts off swinging a few fists. With their Bolt Thrower-like mix of hardcore and thrash, they take no prisoners.

Before reforming and dropping the record, the band released the single ‘Providence’. In an interview, vocalist Daniel Albaugh said that ‘Providence’ is about preferring a chaotic universe to a universe led by one – sadistic, according to the Old Testament and Albaugh – God. The rest of the record also points to a very anti-theistic message, from the title of the album (No Illusions) to songs like the very sarcastically titled ‘God’s Promises’.

The song Providence itself, in terms of sound, is very reminiscent of a young Hatebreed. Aggressive, no-nonsense, no fancy riffs, just honest hardcore. The slowed-down intro gets the listener amped up for the violence yet to come. With a commanding shout they kick the song into a higher gear, ready to fire up a mean mosh pit.

After ‘Providence’ the album barrels on like a semi-truck, floating between almost Slayer-like thrash and classic Knuckledust-, Blood For Blood-style hardcore. In some songs, like ‘I Repent’, they mix the thumping hardcore backing, with a warp-speed thrash metal shred solo. The two genres go together quite nicely, forming an audio barrage of pure aggression.

However, No Illusions does not really stand out for me. Most of the songs are quite interchangeable, and I have a feeling I’ve heard most of them before. It is a solid record, with solid riffs and a solid sound, but it does not manage to surprise the listener. The songs are good for throwing a beer or two and running into the pit, guns blazing, but it does not really have any memorable hooks or riffs.

6.0/10

SAM C.A. VAN DE LEUR

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Sons of Texas – Baptized In The Rio Grande

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Predictability is as underrated as a comfy old of pair of trainers for moochin’ around in, and if we were gambling peeps round Ghost Cult Towers even before picking up Sons Of Texas début Baptized In The Rio Grande we’d have had some pretty strong suspicions as to whether or not it would carry the expected Southern flavours of the Lone Star State.

And a seam of a Southern groove does indeed hit the back of the throat as strong as a slug of straight-up Bourbon from the outset, and is the underlying theme of each of the eleven songs. The initial impression is that Sons of Texas are a Face Off mixture of Down and Black Stone Cherry with Zakk Wylde picking up the tab, particularly on the opening and title tracks. Mark Morales manages to incorporate elements of both Anselmo and Chris Robertson to his delivery representing the band by mixing aggression where it’s needed (but without spilling over and losing the melody) with some quality choruses and hooks, in particular when things kick back during ‘Breathing Through My Wounds’ and ‘September’, two powerful, rocky balladic reflective moments that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Stone Sour album

Elsewhere there are touches of Disturbed or Shinedown, and ‘The Vestryman’ has NOLA (Elektra) etched into its’ spine, but these are mentioned more as pointers of where the band sit sound-wise and stylistically. Clearly receiving the backing of Razor & Tie, Josh Wilbur (Lamb of God, All That Remains) is behind the production desk, bringing forth a full, thick and expertly balanced sound, it isn’t long before you embrace the appealing, honest enjoyability of Sons of Texas and accept Baptized In The Rio Grande in its’ own right as fine, Southern, hard rock album imbued with a song-writing maturity beyond the years of the contributing members all while retaining the requisite youthful energy to put the songs over.

You can rest assured, predictability isn’t the only thing that is welcome – giving people the big, stompin’ rock songs that put a grin on the face and an involuntary bob in the neck are too, and Sons of Texas have those in spades.

7.0/10

STEVE TOVEY

 


Brother/Ghost – Buried

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Everything about Buried (Shelsmusic/I.Corrupt), the debut full-length from Texan trio Brother/Ghost, shook me to the core before I’d even heard it; some websites even likening their sound to Folk and Country rock. The song titles were stark enough to make me wonder, and the reality here is indeed very different.

The initial strains see Death in Vegas-style atmospherics blend with the catchy melodies of 90s Indie-pop outfit New Radicals, slowed by a brick on the turntable and oft decorated with crushing riffs and pummeling drums, as with opener ‘Satan’. The real magnetism in these early stages, however, is the harrowing melancholy of the lyrics and the delivery of co-vocalist Colby Faulkner James; the maudlin tunefulness counteracting the tortuously slow execution. ‘Cripple’s utterly depressing tale is delivered from the back of a giant snail by James’s mellifluous tones, beautiful yet heartbreaking, the harshness increasing with the building riff and roared coda.

The ensuing ‘Causeway’ is a similar story; a painfully sad trawl through a melodic lament, James’s voice and the teardrops of a Fender Rhodes dripped like barbed honey into the soul. Exemplifying some of the most delicate Doom music of recent times, ‘Freedom’s twisty bass riff snakes through a jangling lead and strange drum pattern, the slight lift in pace only mildly alleviating the bitter misery disguised by those deceptively spiteful vocals: sometimes hushed and calm, occasionally soaring like a wounded eagle, once breaking with raw emotion.

Despite the overriding disconsolation, this is a strangely uplifting sound…until the invitation to wrist-slitting that is ‘Pendulum’. When co-vocalist W.S. Dowdy’s throat reaches for doleful bass notes, you’ll realise just how the spirit of David Gold courses through this album. Incredibly, more honest, gut-wrenching emotion bleeds from ten seconds of this track than any effort from the late, legendary Woods of Ypres mainman; the chopping, swinging riff embodying the title, the closing momentum a staggeringly affecting slowness. Closer ‘Blackdog’, meanwhile, is initially layered with lush synths which cheapen the tired, almost inebriated voice. The ensuing swell, however, is the aural depiction of depression with riffs squirming through oscillating sound effects and lyrics such as “Toothless mouths full of doom and god” fully depicting the near-apathetic despair underpinning the whole set.

It’s a curious affair this, blending easy listening with pulverising power and the most emotionally disturbing sadness; bewitching, bitter, traumatic yet compelling, and well worth the many listens it will take to control your brain. Those of us who have experienced this level of darkness will either find it too painful to reach the end of this captivating offering, or fully wallow in its exquisite tragedy.

 

8.5/10

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PAUL QUINN

 


Pyramids – A Northern Meadow

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Anybody here with broad tastes recall The Blue Nile? They of 80s Indie Electronica fame? For some reason the wrought moments of their minimalist, stark melancholy spring to mind when harmonized, plaintive vocals burst through the chaotic ambience of Texan super-project Pyramids. The rest sounds nothing like, of course…

Doubtless somewhat responsible for the complex, occasionally harsh noise surrounding those honeyed tones, Blut Aus Nord‘s Vindsval and Gorguts‘ Colin Marston join Mike Dean‘s men for sophomore album A Northern Meadow (Profound Lore). Lead track ‘In Perfect Stillness, I’ve Only Found Sorrow’ emerges like some lo-fi, Post-Black Doves; shoegaze Indie strains blending with slashing yet melodic guitar, while the high-pitched, soaring vocals bring Thom Yorke into the equation. Though this is the early template, strange soundscapes envelop the structures with the intricate rhythms and Post leadwork furthering the Radiohead connection, albeit with more weight to the body – an at times crushing sequence of blows bursting a colliding crescendo of noise in both ‘The Earth Melts Into Red Gashes…’ and ‘The Substance of Grief Is Not Imaginary’.

As the titles suggest cheery this ain’t, yet the euphoric effects of the music at times contrast from the intent and that pensive, melancholy voice despite the obvious emotion of the whole: the resonant, rising harmonies and emotive, synthesized atmospherics of ‘Indigo Birds’ charging the soul and calming the frozen wastes of agonised, railing riffs.

In many ways this is the aural depiction of a nervous breakdown, the conflicting emotions crashing together, those fluctuating rhythmic structures and occasionally blackened riffs being the violent mood swings. The complexities and contradictions in the sound are both zenith and Nemesis, highlighting both the harshness and the beauty but also occasionally dampening just as things threaten to explode. Picture Red Sparrowes or Alcest if you will, with the hostile anguish retained just to tease whilst remaining an integral part. The dark-Mastodon feel of ‘Consilience’, a sinister organ adding to the portentous mass, closes an album in equal parts exquisite, beguiling yet a sprawling achievement; one most definitely worth sticking on every time you’re dwelling on that crossroads between depression and ecstasy.

8.0/10

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PAUL QUINN