Review Summary: Melodic hardcore up-and-comers' scorching debut could use a little more meat on its bones
Sun & Flesh owe their place in my heart to world-renowned vocal coach Melissa Cross, creator of the Zen of Screaming – a series of instructional DVDs designed to help rock, hardcore punk and metal vocalists deliver ferocious performances every night without destroying their vocal cords in the process. Frontman Christoph Manuel is something of a protégé to Cross, and it was through a serendipitous YouTube suggestion that I discovered she had produced an EP for this new and virtually unknown band. That EP, as of last March, has been subsumed into an eleven-track eponymous album.
The New York four-piece start this disc as they mean to continue, with Purge’s looming guitars and off-kilter rhythm setting teeth on edge from the get-go. Manuel also takes an early opportunity to demonstrate his knack for a great chorus as he snarls, “I need all my strength and then some, it’s bringing me down, down, down” over a swell of churning rhythm and rousing melody. This theme of metallic hardcore tempered by poppy hooks and familiar structure remains consistent even when the production (the original EP’s cuts being noticeably fuller and warmer) is not. Cyanide, which owes a lot to recently reformed space rock legends Failure, is about as close to a slow jam as
Sun & Flesh gets. Even here, it’s still easy to hear the anger bubbling beneath the surface.
Most of metalcore's tropes make an appearance at some point. Manuel peppers his singing with occasional screams, there are few breakdowns and plenty of chant-along refrains. That being said, this most certainly isn't a metalcore album. Jonathan Serwinowski's drums owe more to Travis Barker than Justin Foley, and the guitar work by Stefan Reinberger is far more sharply articulated and focused than his heavier contemporaries.
Alternative rock that's just about too heavy to play on the radio. That sums
Sun & Flesh up pretty well.
At thirty-eight minutes, the record flies by in a Taz-like whirlwind of crashing cymbals, stop-start riffs and impassioned cries of “*** you!” (see the unfortunately titled Yuck Fou) but seems to lack a cohesive roadmap. Perhaps this is a product of limited studio time, multiple producers and a tight budget. I would have liked the whole thing to hang together a little better – be it with interludes, overlaps or whatever intangible elements make songs “fit”. Nevertheless, this is an accomplished debut by a band capable of great things.
