Review Summary: you guys wanted good metalcore?
I’m gonna skip the absurdly thin intro that’s been used at least two million times. Ever notice how most of those reviews seem tagged with a band swimming fastest with the weight? Let’s get something straight then, the genre is dead to those who don’t dig. Buried beneath the shi
tfest of Killswitch Engagae
imitators are bands with life that demand being recognized. Octaves are a group dirty with the bands they took influence from; those same bands that everyone cries for everyday to revive their hopes buried with them. Octaves rip riffs like Botch
, stretch time like glassjaw
and start a riot like Trophy Scars
. It’s hard to distinguish at times - what’s going on that is, where the melody just came from, and how sharp the tongue of their lead singer truly is, but these sings culminate for something worth stalking about (this sentence was originally intended to end with me saying the band were worth talking
about, now, yes I could have edited this but after seeing what that mistake leant to the importance of the review I decided it worked even better. If you take anything from this review it is to stalk Octaves with an extreme dedication).
Octaves deliver on all expectations of how a genre everyone says is withering away still has substantial roots to continue evolving. Immediately the band combine a spastic, yet spunky, riff that lays groundwork to what’s to be expected throughout Greener Pastures
entirety affiliating themselves with the more certified crowd of a genre, that’s again, deteriorating. They’re in good company. The band are tact with their bite letting loose only after they’ve loosened your bones with a clever groove; so often Octaves are leading false belief to a true punk track before cutting short the wish and erupting with catchy anger bottled in dissonance and the untraceable source of panic pumping through the noise- “Be Angry At the Sun…” the prime suspect in this case. The best aspect of this bands attack however is the thirst left to be quenched afterward. The aforementioned track would not feel complete, however, without its companion “I’ve Got Boxes Full Pepe”; stringing it’s madness along for a ride that breaks the convention of interludes and springing for necessity, Octaves introduce a story that feels alive despite the contrary.
It doesn’t matter what the band is doing they’re constantly in sync with one another. The breakdown that escapes frantically on “I Am He Who Is Called I Am” is a perfect example of this shifting from a time sensitive band to one that plays with rhythm more and took note of the groove. Here is where Octaves stand tallest. Amongst their most frustrating moments are those that flow so well with the intoxicating wave that came before it. On “I’m Just Going To the Corner…” they avoid complete inaccessibility by incorporating a danceable bass line underneath the chaos cementing how well they mesh their influences. This seems to come to fruition on “Shmohawk”, coincidentally the shortest track here, the song tries the many faces the band display at the drop of a dime with fluidity that affirms their nods to their idols. Also it’s good to note that you always trust a band that tells you they’re sweating bullets and shit
ting bricks, that’s just not something you say to anybody.