Review Summary: This might be as good as it gets...
I’m going to do Thy Art a solid and focus less upon the current CJ drama. In case you’re out of the loop, the now-former frontman of Australia’s immovable object of deathcore reposted a video--a mom asking their child if they were a boy or a girl; the child answered, “both”--and said they should be burned to death. Credit to the band; after this apparent final straw occurred, they gave their resident aspiring arsonist the boot, brought in a currently-unknown replacement (it’s Aversions Crown’s guy, probably), and scrubbed
Godlike clean of prior controversy. So,
optimistically, we can enjoy a smidgeon of benefit-of-the-doubt and meet the group’s sixth LP on its own terms sans-transphobia. I stress optimistically because who the hell knows what happens behind closed doors, and if CJ’s Walshian levels of commentary brilliance are a sufficient turn-off, by all means, turn the hell away without judgment; you likely aren’t missing much. For those out there poking sticks at the creatively-deceased genre of deathcore hoping to see signs of life, strap in and dive into the landfill I suppose.
Anyone that came into
Godlike hoping for anything new--joke’s on you at this point. Barring a transition to melodic death or straight-up death metal--Job for a Cowboy, Slice the Cake, Shadow of Intent--deathcore collectives aren’t known for innovating inside their comfortable sphere. It hasn’t happened since
Exoplanet and it’s not happening now; you get exactly what’s on the tin, from blast-beat abuse and heavy trem riffing to an overabundance of typical breakdowns. None of that is inherently bad! Something like “Lesson In Pain” is an absolute clinic on how to nail deathcore’s basic strengths; it comes stocked with ghostly tremolos, furious percussion, a hefty low end, and a memorable refrain buoyed by a distorted guitar wailing in the background. It’s ominous, hits like a truck, then drops a groovy breakdown on the way out the door. That’s a winning formula, even if said formula is familiar.
While that equation is cliche as hell in its old-school ways, Thy Art manage to avoid modern conventions that have plagued the genre: symphonics are nonexistent or limited to a background component (i.e. the subtle electronics that boost the opening onslaught of “Blood Throne”) and those f*cking Lorna Shore breakdowns--about a minute of silence where a guitar chord is hit once or twice and the vocalist acts like acid is being poured down their throat--are thankfully allowed nowhere near the premises. There’s an enhanced focus on riffs to carry the memorability of the record instead of placing all the weight on the vocal performance or cheap effects, which ultimately is a massive benefit to the disc’s replay value; tracks manage to stand out more individually rather than blending into a mush of orchestral sampling or arbitrary skrem acrobatics. An audience can easily return to the melodic approach employed by “Anathema,” the winding death metal riff on the title track, or the crescendo closing out “Everything Unwanted,” with each song having a unique
moment that can aid a hook instead of being subservient to it.
It’s shocking how much mileage the Aussies get out of playin’ the hits, but I’d be lying if I said a tune like “Corrosion”--surprisingly complex with its dynamic riffing, varied drumming, and tempo shifts--didn’t remind me of a simpler time when deathcore was king and I gladly sang its praises. However, that simpler time comes packaged with familiar drawbacks. Thy Art’s songwriting hasn’t received a makeover, meaning that any given tune’s structure will reliably march from verse-chorus-etc. or even chorus-verse-etc. into a breakdown that can be seen coming several miles away. Rarely is this template tinkered with, rarely are those breakdowns engaging in any manner, and rarely do they pack a sufficient punch. It’s an issue that damages an ordinarily decent tune like “Blood Throne,” makes “Keres'' a goose egg, and forces “Join Me in Armageddon” to repeat its chorus--the only good thing it’s got going for it--until any novelty is expunged. The lack of progressions is the LP’s overarching weakness, depriving payoffs of any meaningful resonance and making the 40-minute release frustratingly linear.
Godlike is easily exposed under any measure of scrutiny once the sheen of nostalgia is wiped away. Its methodology is a copy-paste job from current-day Kataklysm, stalwarts like Carnifex--the usual suspects. Any remaining ingenuity got consumed by the last gasp that was
Dear Desolation. As is often the case with collectives that have settled into a routine,
Godlike targets a particular niche, excels at it, and kindly refuses to do much else. Its singular advantage is how devoutly it adheres to its strengths, cliche as they are, leading to an album that’s tightly composed and demonstrates the band’s talent in their chosen arena. No gimmicks, no development, just a stubborn assault that includes intricate passages, doses of addicting melody, and a heaping of mosh-fodder beatdowns. If not for the band’s frontman being the latest deathcore vocalist named CJ to self-sabotage their own career (weird it’s happened twice), this would be as serviceable as possible, but that Pandora’s Box of controversy doesn’t get closed easily. Plenty are turned away because of that, and by all means, keep that back turned; this is ‘serviceable’ incarnate at best. For those still poking sticks at the corpse of contemporary deathcore, well… it could be worse!
