Review Summary: However you choose to view this whether poison or an album, after the horrific 21 minutes of the first track pass by, the feelings of your decision are sure to sink in as painfully slow as possible.2 of 2 thought this review was well written
12 Stones a band whose sole purpose in life appears to be creating anthems for any WWE promo. Their music begs a listen only in times you find yourself needing to get hyped up before wrestling an alligator, or devouring 72ounces of steak in mere minutes, or- Oh I’m sorry, did you say you have never found yourself in such a situation? Then you can probably stop reading here (.) as the necessity meter just took quite the drop. For the rest of us, what do you say we grab a couple 30 racks and pound this baby down…
Does it bother you when a band chooses to display a variety of sounds and influences over the course of one album, making it harder to flow with the experience through a complete listen? Well that’s great to hear, as you’re already on your way to rating your next classic album. 12 Stones take staying complacent to a whole new level with the first six tracks of Potter’s Field
refusing to establish anything other than an earache.
Some tracks mold themselves around the tricky v/c/v/c/b/c format with a typical guitarist whose lost track of the rhythm and decides to do his own thing, or a bassist who must have been so lost he never made it to a recording session. There are other tracks that are so phonetically redundant- er heavy, that you could even synchronize your push up count with them. There’s also no need to worry about which air instrument you’ll need to implement first as everything here is mindlessly lead by the guitars. But get your head banging in while you can because after 21 droning minutes Photograph
kicks in, and the thought that this should have just been released as an EP creeps in.
*anyone whose life has become synonymous with Greek letters may now be excused directly to the last paragraph*
Offering the first breath of fresh air since the moments before pressing play, the song introduces us to something other than a monotonous jam session. Given by a beautiful acoustic set up that reverberates the lyrics all to well, “Fear falls hard like rain again, Washing over me… I try to see your face again, A photograph of me
” Paul McCoy takes, ignorantly I might add, the little musical growth he gained from working with Evanescence and finally applies life to a song, no pun intended. While little occurs to excuse the six car pile up that stalled this party bus on the way to this track, it should just be noted that it’s memorable for being something the second song should have been - a new song.
is another mentionable song for its use of the “Ascending Staircase of Vocals”. Starting low and tone deaf McCoy builds his tension around its meaning well, and though he misses the mark in sparking emotion, mostly due to the awkward sound arrangement for the riff and almost silent drummer, the band are able to produce the albums best song thanks to its soaring chorus. Other things happen too, I guess, like the acceptable riff to carry most of Waiting For Yesterday
. No thanks to McCoy whose hit or miss lyrics almost obliterate the song as a whole “ Screaming for attention, Watch the sun steal yesterday, Hiding all emotion far away
" he sings lifelessly in the chorus. It like most of the second half of the album just drags on unheedingly.
When listening to this album all the way through one might be distraught in learning it’s a single effort. The horrific track placement is partly to blame with the first (six) tracks all carrying a load of adrenaline only to be cut off immediately at the dawn of the second half. And then the second half doesn’t do anything but revel around the same concept of soft and loud dynamics. The production must also be noted as I fear it’s the sole reason for ¾ of this album sounding identical. The sludgy “We Are Heavy” guitars completely strip away from the albums ability to identify single instruments throughout the listen. Drums should not sound the same as a guitar, and a guitar should not have to cover for an inexplicable bassist. Add on other typical flaws of a mainstream rock band such as the atrocious lyrics duly noted on Bitter
, “ Mother Mother, Can you hear me, I keep trying, Just to find me, All I know now, All you show me
and the ridiculous need to continuously add cock rockers like, Far Away
bait this release as something to avoid.
The sad thing being that because this record feels like two compilation discs stacked on top of each other it’s sure to cause some division. The first half deeming only necessary for organized moshing, and the second half suitable for any moment in a movie where the protagonist realizes what he/she must do. Pick your poison really; if you find yourself in the near future moments away from locking up with a reptile by all means grab this. If you’re writing a movie for MTV Productions by all means grab this. Otherwise, sensory deprivation techniques or tooth extracting would be a more fitting way to go out.
Track Recommendations Include: Stay