Review Summary: This was honestly inevitable: though relatively concealed, Downplay had still reached their dominant position that was well-deserved after two highly gratifying discs, only to undergo their downfall. Not a Rise but a Fall, and unfortunately easily passed
Consider the transition between late afternoon/early evening and full-on night time. While there’s still some light at the beginning of late afternoon, by the time that evening starts rolling around, most of the light is replaced by an increasing dark. Soon, the light all departs with the arrival of the darkness, and night has set. This transition could easily be comparable to Downplay’s career. Their first album,
Saturday, was a fairly light affair, while their sophomore effort
A Day Without Gravity leaned much more on a darker formation with some fairly optimistic overtones.
Rise. Fall. Repeat. is the album that completes the transition, so to speak, as it fairly secures Downplay in a heavier and blacker light. However, darkness shades much in ambiguity, qualities that may be better hidden away. With cover of darkness comes some unnecessary generic overtones hidden away, but said qualities don’t totally overtake the group.
Vocalist Dustin Bates is still the bragging right of the project. Either melodically crooning or grimly growling, Bates unveils a compelling delivery. New lead guitarist Kyle Leavitt adds another weapon to DP’s arsenal, and crafts some conversant leads that allow Bates to focus on good ole’ fashioned power-chord bashing. As for bassist Corey Catlett, it sounds as if he had no input this record, and the classic, bass-guitar oriented jams off the first two records are sadly absent, replaced by barely-audible bass lines that don’t stand out at all. The same goes for drummer Brian Patrick, whose punk-influenced, at-full-tilt beating and progressive rock-tinted technicality is replaced by the expected playing that just carries the tracks, nothing more.
However, that’s not to say Downplay has totally lost their edge this release. Tracks like “Save Me” and “Burn It Away” both sound like a harder-edged classic Downplay jam with gruff vocals, heavy yet accessible riffs, and anthemic choruses that will get stuck in your head. “Revenge” also brings back much of the dependence on Patrick with a four-on-the-floor dance beat underlying a quiet/loud dynamic and jumpy, chunky riffs, and the track probably best represents the heavier experimentation from the band. However, both “Goodbye” and “Fly Into The Sun” serve only as Three Days Grace copy-cats, and could at best be considered filler. Both songs copy the TDG formula to the nth degree, though they aren’t bad songs themselves. “Red Window” is a Nickelback-esque ballad about a prostitute that tries to be passionate and mournful, but due to the subject matter, it leaves a vulgar taste in the listener’s mouth, and Dustin truly fails to get his point across.
Both Dustin and Kyle are the mightiest forces of
Rise.Fall.Repeat. and they practically carry the record on their backs. While they are more than satisfactory, it leaves much to be desired after a while. In addition to the bassist and the drummer practically disappearing, the band also resorted to the age-old tactic of re-using a song from a previous record. “Sleep” is carried over from the sophomore album, and though “Sleep” is one of the most au fait songs of the band’s discography, it’s largely unchanged and easily skippable due to this. Lyrically, the band started to fall apart, another red X on the listener satisfaction sheet.
Speaking of a red X,
Saturday and
A Day Without A Gravity were totally absent of explicit sexual content, and it was a refreshing change of pace from most modern hard rock bands. Sadly, this dead end road is traveled on this record, and the track “Red Window” is both laughable and disgusting. With the refrain “burn it away” repeated ad nauseum throughout, “Burn It Away” leans too much on the let’s-just-repeat-the-song-title-method. However, “Revenge” and “Save Me” contain the band’s yen for demon-exorcising lyrics that aren’t oppressively dark, and therefore remain relatable and convincing, instead of feeling scorched and burned out to a blackened crisp.
This was honestly inevitable: though relatively concealed, Downplay had still reached their dominant position that was well-deserved after two highly gratifying discs, only to undergo their downfall. Not a
Rise but a
Fall, and unfortunately easily passed over as another modern hard rock album. For once, Downplay’s title made sense.
