Review Summary: Eclectic, immediate and ultimately rather weak
[i]Darknenks partly to their European record label, Poison the Well sent ripples of excitement around the world with their debut ep, [i]Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fnye West cares about himself, about money, about pussy, religion and black people. Unfortvoice ties together the deceptively simple instrumentation, and from the opening beat of 'Hands' to the anthemic close of the title track,
Running Out of Places to Go goes about its business with its feet on the table and a smile on its face. You could call it unassuming, but with this type of quality, unassuming is a sign ofside, and that is glossy, uber-melodic music with a heavyweight punch. And Chiodos certainly deliver on those fronts. The rather awkwardly titled
Illuminaudio is a huge, polished affair - one bristling with a newfound, and sorely needed, energy. Any fears that new singer Brandon Bolmer would throw an unwelcome spanner in the works have been proved dramatically wrong; it might b Me’, to the thundering, monolithic ‘Not Within Arms Length’, it was obvious that Poison the Well had found their feet. The integration of post-hardcore aesthetics, melodies and structures took them away from their previous, more metal incarnation, providing a rounded,
full sound that they would develop even further in later releases. But for now they were still firmly metalcore, and the spark caused by
The Opposite of December resonates throughout the genre to this day.
The album is tightly, crisply constructed. From the first meaty clatter of ‘12/23/93’, it’s obvious that the drumming on display here is a real
presence, a firm bedrock underpinning everything else on display. The guitars beat out blunt, energetic rhythms, seamlessly interspersed with melodic streams that temper the anger and frustration of the music with genuine beauty. It hasn’t aged pen, but Trophy Scars’ latest offering suffers from some incredibly feeble, amateurish moments – ones that might have been forgivable in a new band’s work, but not for people so far into their career. And oh-my-life is it
derivative.
At its heart,
Darkness, Oh Hell is a foot-stomping monster, played from the hip in a smoky, drunken haze. It’s overly-dramatic, even theatrical in tone, but when it works, it
works. Jerry Jonesnes that might have been forgivable in a new band’s work, but not for people so far into their career. And oh-my-life is it
derivative.
At its heart,
Darkness, Oh Hell is a foot-stomping monster, played from the hip in a smoky, drunken haze. It’s overly-dramatic, even theatrical in tone, but when it works, it
works. Jerry Jonesnes that might have been forgivable in a new band’s work, but not for people so far into their career. And oh-my-life is it
derivative.
At its heart,
Darkness, Oh Hell is a foot-stomping monster, played from the hip in a smoky, drunken haze. It’s overly-dramatic, even theatrical in tone, but when it works, it
works. Jerry Jonesnes that might have been forgivable in a new band’s work, but not for people so far into their career. And oh-my-life is it
derivative.
At its heart,
Darkness, Oh Hell is a foot-stomping monster, played from the hip in a smoky, drunken haze. It’s overly-dramatic, even theatrical in tone, but when it works, it
works. Jerry Jonesnes that might have been forgivable in a new band’s work, but not for people so far into their career. And oh-my-life is it
derivative.
At its heart,
Darkness, Oh Hell is a foot-stomping monster, played from the hip in a smoky, drunken haze. It’s overly-dramatic, even theatrical in tone, but when it works, it
works. Jerry Jones growls over crisp, bluesy riffs, the brass section throws in well-timed stabs and it all sounds very grown-up, like in the swaggering ‘Darkness’ annes that might have been forgivable in a new band’s work, but not for people so far into their career. And oh-my-life is it
derivative.
At its heart,
Darkness, Oh Hell is a foot-stomping monster, played from the hip in a smoky, drunken haze. It’s overly-dramatic, even theatrical in tone, but when it works, it
works. Jerry Jonesnes that might have been forgivable in a new band’s work, but not for people so far into their career. And oh-my-life is it
derivative.
At its heart,
Darkness, Oh Hell is a foot-stomping monster, played from the hip in a smoky, drunken haze. It’s overly-dramatic, even theatrical in tone, but when it works, it
works. Jerry Joneslectic mosaic of the music gels together here, for the most part, only rarely seeming messy – it’s just the weakness of the content that drags it down. If they incorporate quality control into their repertoire, though, the world might be in for a shock.
