Review Summary: Straining.
Considering the epic elevation of quality in their most recent releases, it's somewhat surreal looking back now to where The Acacia Strain started. Not because the sound or style has changed particularly dramatically, but because of the amount of maturing that has ensued in the interim. ....And Life If Very Long is unmistakably The Acacia Strain; bursting with nasty riffs, pounding rhythms and vicious vocals. Yet it also portrays a band in the throes of trying to define their sound- schizophrenic time signatures and lightly math-infused breakdowns, not to mention a variety of unusually melodic slow sections in certain songs, all have the aura of a spirited attempt to throw everything at the wall to see what sticks. It flits around distractedly with the attention span of a fly, crashing into things and making plenty of noise, but seemingly unsure of the best way to harness the raw power and aggression that the band would one day be able to distil. The production is still thick and abrasive, and the songwriting has that nihilistic undercurrent that fans will know and love, but the overall effect has a weaker, tinnier quality, mostly owing to the more diverse rhythms and dynamics that feel decidedly less like The Acacia Strain in their current, more established form. It's the gestation of an evolutionary arc, and as such is a warts-and-all display of ambition and enthusiasm, clouded by a lack of direction.
First things first, the album has aged very well considering its 20 years, and there's plenty here that fans of the band will appreciate. It is an Acacia Strain record in the truest sense, from its head down to its stomping feet. On this first full-length outing, aside from frontman Vincent Bennett, the entire lineup is a different crew, and the more scattershot nature of the instrumentation reflects this. Furthermore, the less impactful production draws attention to this shortcoming, and the resultant din is somewhat wispier than what listeners have come to expect from the band. Tracks like 'Widowmaker' and 'Why Is A Raven Like A Writing Desk' lack the familiar punch to their grooves, with the latter especially using a sickly plucked guitar riff in the mid-section that feels horribly out of place amidst the chaos and chunky chugs. Occasionally, there are moments of more pronounced melody, such as during the outro of 'Roadhead Road', which is a gleefully warped and fun little conclusion, even if it doesn't linger long enough to truly make its mark. Vincent Bennet's performance here is also struggling to find a foothold, teetering between hoarse hardcore yowling and guttural deathcore lows. It's more varied than their more modern releases, but when set against the thinner production it lacks the grit that makes the band's usual sound so satisfyingly huge. In spite of this, there are instances when the vocal style does facilitate the energy, such as on 'Killing On Empty's' filthy downtempo breakdown, which allows the variety of tones to set into the murk of the aggression. Moments like these are far less frequent than they should be on the record, but when they are allowed to shine through, they really do sell the enraged atmosphere.
Much more frantic for the most part, and staplegunned together with oddly fragmented bridges and breakdowns, ...And Life Is Very Long crashes and bangs much like The Acacia Strain we know and love, but strains to incorporate too many bells and whistles into the mixture which, when paired with the subpar production, makes for a release far less powerful than its individual facets would suggest. When it's on full kinetic form and it's barrelling through grooves like my aunt goes through prescription painkillers it's a rollickingly crunchy time, with 'Noah Will Be Your Grave' and 'Sloth Loves Chunk' illustrating this especially well. Sadly, these moments are consistently cut short by bizarre songwriting choices that slow, alter, or generally sap the power from the abrasion. It's still a serviceable release in its own right, and as a debut it's an admirable declaration of intent for a band that has gone onto achieve markedly greater things, but when held up by its own merits it feels stifled by the production, weighed down by the unfocussed tonality of the heaviness, and softened by the variance to the typical sound.
