Review Summary: FFAF turn off the autopilot, releasing an album that answers to no one and follows the mantra; less is more.
Personnel:
Kris Coombs-Roberts - guitar
Gareth Ellis-Davies – bass guitar, backing vocals
Matthew Davies-Kreye – Vocals, guitar (tracks 11 and 13)
Ryan Richards – drums, backing vocals, Keyboard
Darran Smith – guitar
We’ve seen it before; Lui Reed did it with Metal Machine Music, Radiohead did it with Kid A, I’m talking about a vast departure from an original sound to a much less commercially-friendly one.
With success comes expectation, often when bands reach new commercial heights they simply cave into pressure and release the album that their ‘afictionados’ ask for. The problem with this is that fickle fans never know what they truely want, they demand more of the same and then complain that it’s mediocre. Although Funeral For a Friend may not reach the daring heights of the other bravado acts that were previously mentioned, they have released an album that finally avoids all the radio-friendly cliches and commercial pressures. This autonomy has been achieved through their own choice to release the album on their personal record label for the first time; Join Us. Comparing it to their 2007 effort; Tales Don’t Tell Themselves, it is evident to see that there are many foundational differences from removing their major-label-shackles. First and foremost. the amount of tracks released via major label contracts on an album is usually limited to ten, anything exceeding this figure usually means the band do not receive any profits or royalties for the additional tracks, by releasing 13 tracks on Memory and Humanity, they make a statement within itself. Secondly, the actual songs; where Tales Don’t Tell Themselves arguably faltered at writing consolidated rock tracks, this release exceeds is the complete opposite; displaying talented musicianship without becoming over indulgent with itself, yet still maintaining their distinctive & lauded post-hardcore/rock sound.
As for the songs, a lack of any dramatic variation in song genre is rewarded by definition and solidarity. The decision not to include any wholey acoustic ballads or balls-out hardcore tracks means that they don’t stray from what they excell in writing or suffer from a lack of identity. Although it could be argued that tracks such as Building & Charlie Don’t Surf are directionless ballads, I believe they fall under the ‘Post-Rock’ tag, not sounding disimilar to bands such as Moving Mountains. Because of this solidarity, some reviews will claim this album is predictable, but on the contrary, a use of interesting bridges, lead guitar work and even the occasional piano backing mean that FFAF use what instruments they have at their direct disposal and nothing more to an admirable extent. By following the mantra that less is more, they manage to create a robust sound without reliance of excessive instrumentation; where many bands use synth and Midi to fill in the spaces of their overall sound, Memory and Humanity avoids this lethargic approach. This bare-essentials tactic is most evident on the track To Die Like Mouchette, beginning with a dry guitar tone, minimalist drums and a relatively tame Matthew Davies-Kreye vocal performance, it slowly becomes evident that this is merely just a ploy to empower the beautifully crafted chorus. With cleverly mixed drums and guitars playing interestingly different riffs that compliment each other, this acts as the ideal platform for the best emotional vocal performance on the album, as Mr Davies screams ‘‘Please, believe in what I have to say…’’, the listener is truly gripped to what he does intend to say.
However, the standout performance on the album as an entity has to go to the guitarists; Kris & Darran. Taking influences from numerous genres (post rock, hardcore etc) they manage to achieve all kinds of peaks, whether it’s straightforward catchy hooks (the verse in Ghosts) or complex riff-ery (Constant Illuminations) both rhythm and lead merge together to create a seemlessly fluid combination. However, there are moments on the lighter songs whereby this fluidity is replaced by tediousness, and despite some etherial lead work, simple chords and conventional progressions rear their head. This is a problem encountered by the entire band, as the few troughs the album does have, they occur because of a lack of ambition, Beneath The Burning Tree being a prime example whereby they fall into a lackluster state of simply writing what they’re most comfortable with. However this is redeemed by both incredible songwriting (Maybe I Am?) and one of the greatest verses of all time; You Can’t See The Forest Through The Trees.
Although they haven’t broken any new ground and this release will never considered to be a masterpiece, what FFAF have done is create a much less commercially driven album and one that it is evident that they wrote only for themselves, the injection of more hardcore instrumentation and a heavier timbre highlights this. And although their fanbase seems to be divided between their early screamo sound and their more recent radio-friendly rock one, they have finally found a happy medium between the two, a medium whereby epic chorus’ and powerful production meets interchangable guitars and fist-clenching post-hardcore.
Peaks: Maybe I Am, You Can’t See The Forest Through The Trees.
Troughs: Building, Beneath The Burning Tree.
