Review Summary: merciless. savage. inevitable.
Somewhere, lurking deep within the humid thicket of hardcore discourse, lying in wait, eager to pounce, is a sinister stick in the mud who claims The Wheel needs reinventing. This misguided miscreant’s motives are unknown, and frankly irrelevant. Whether his contrarianism arises from genuine dissatisfaction with the scene, or a desire to get under the skin of hardcore-obsessed Internet zit-havers, he has already sealed his fate by opening his mouth. The Wheel shows no mercy, makes no compromise, never stops hunting, and reshapes itself for no man. Its savagery knows no bounds, and it will not stop until its prey is torn limb from limb. Little is needed to awaken its fury, and few are able to harness its true power. To attempt to fashion a cheap facsimile of The Wheel is foolish and blasphemous, and will surely get its gears turning viciously towards your current location. Others have had success by abandoning its house of worship entirely, constructing new gods that emit powerful new battle cries. However, these deities still trace their origin to the power of the mighty Wheel, torridly turning, impatiently awaiting the brave acolytes who are willing to risk their lives and merge with its brutish energy.
Chamber are one with The Wheel. No riff, musical idea, breakdown, or lyrical passage contained within
A Love To Kill For breaks new ground or plays to the beat of its own clangorous drum. They are faithful disciples, choosing to draw upon a deep and cavernous wellspring of hardcore wisdom, yielding calculated brutality that not even the most dedicated zealot could withstand. Whether it comes in brief, tornadic bursts of energy like “We Followed You To The Bitter End” or the head-spinning death by a thousand cuts of “Cyanide Embrace” and the title track, Chamber have the art of destruction down to a science on their sophomore full-length, culminating in 29 consecutive minutes of destabilizing mayhem. It’s a level up in intensity and complexity from everything that has preceded it in their discography; it’s faster, meaner, mathier, heavier, and tighter in planning and execution. It unfortunately suffers from the same production pitfalls that hamstring many a hardcore LP these days, namely excessive distortion and frustratingly murky low end, while also threatening to blend together into one big blob of Sameness at times. Be that as it may, these criticisms pale in comparison to the monstrous ferocity of The Wheel. Its arrival is inexorable and its intentions grim, so cross your heart, listen to
A Love To Kill For, and pray to be spared.
