Review Summary: The triumph of all things excessive.
Deathcore maximalism is
back, baby! It kicked down the door, it crashed on the couch, raided the fridge, poisoned the food supply, salted the fields, then passed out drunk yelling about symphonic breakdowns. Or is this the ‘thall’ thing that was a thing before the band that made it a thing pulled an absentee father stunt, only to return and demonstrate how they really should have stayed gone? Who knows, who cares; above all else,
Ashen is one of the more brazen, somewhat high-profile attempts at heaviness overdose to hit the metal scene in a hot minute. This can be fun--see Erdve, see Slowbleed, see any decent -core band that’s got a little songwriting talent--or it can be very
not fun, liable to becoming monotonous and reduced to sterile low-end abuse. Lead single “Labyrinthian” should be enough to indicate what camp Humanity’s Last Breath fall into, what with its central feature being a “So you want to djent?” groove and ambiance ripped directly from
Masstaden. It additionally should be enough to either invite a heaviness-overdoser further into the madness or convince all other comers to run for the hills. To those that remain--Godspeed, folks, the spiritual successor to ‘Black Tongue evolved!’ awaits.
That seems partially unfair--the Swedes have demonstrated in
Abyssal a bit more variety in their approach, and while that’s a low bar to clear, it should be acknowledged that
yes it was cleared--but it’s difficult to excuse a record that seems dedicated to becoming indistinguishable, albeit hefty, mush. Though on their fifth album, Humanity’s Last Breath have yet to carve out any sort of identity to separate them from the Vildhjarta copycats of the world. Of the two halves of their sound--one part a tech-laden Car Bomb or Ion Dissonance methodology, the other a Black Tongue-level lack of dynamics--the collective have greatly indulged the latter, thereby causing the former to be drowned in a production that is
supremely brickwalled and prone to clipping. It’s an unbridled attack on the senses that surely brings ample aggression to the party, but it’s so muddled that it’s uncomfortable at worst and tramples over anything remotely progressive the band attempts. All that can be perceived is heavy-heavy-heavy; extend that over nearly 50 minutes and it’s as exhausting as running a marathon across the Sahara.
If the gang’s sound didn’t sufficiently blend proceedings together already, the (lack of) songwriting on display seals the deal. Humanity’s Last Breath adore breakdowns and djent, with the mixing of the two being a weapon capable of the most forgettable passages possible. It cannot be overstated the extent to which
Ashen is bereft of anything entertaining beyond its base appeal; it’s a who’s-who of deathcore cliches, ranging from predictable breakdowns and directionless chugs to nauseatingly linear structuring. Rarely does a riff arrive to cling to, and anything resembling differentiation is fleeting at best, with the collective reliably crashing into a slog of djent guitars transposed from the dregs of Traitors’ catalog, at times causing whiplash from how suddenly a promising section is murdered by endless
djunz. It performs the original sin of
Born Hanged wherein what should be an earned, climactic moment is made into the entire song; too frequently do tunes proceed as if a single breakdown was elongated past its expiration date, and it gives off a profound sense of emptiness despite all the heavy noise that is thrust into the spotlight.
This and more might be forgiven if there was simply a chance to breathe, but no such luck can be had. See, this is a modern deathcore release, which means anything that can be dialed up to max is amplified to absurd levels, no exceptions. Nothing can be small in
Ashen; there’s no room for nuance, be it due to aforementioned songwriting flaws or the production’s brickwalled purgatory. Every moment must be massive, imposing and forcing heaviness into every nook and cranny possible. Outfits like Frontierer or Methwitch can evade these pitfalls even when engaged in a f*ck-the-kitchen-sink approach--the U.K. lads sufficiently diversify their approach with touches of melody, metalcore bedlam, grind, and electronics, whereas the Cali solo project is simply too batsh*t insane to ignore--but the aim of this particular LP is solely to be an intimidating, overwhelming onslaught of sound pioneered by pure
oomph alone, which eventually turns monolithic when endured over and over and over again. It’s Rorcal’s
Heliogabalus sans-compositional brilliance, it’s
Nadir part 2, it’s Ion Dissonance if their technical prowess was swallowed up by breakdowns--it’s textbook maximalism out the ass. There’s potential in the atmosphere that sparingly arrives on every other track, but until the monotonous clutter is cleaned up around it, all that’s left are salted fields and a big wall of nothingness.
