Review Summary: Anthrax’s subtle diminishing returns through the nineties are at their most apparent on Volume 8
Anthrax’s thematically titled eighth installment is easily their most experimental effort to date. Volume 8: The Threat Is Real contrasts Stomp 442’s aggro attitude with a more melodic approach but rather than circling back to a previous style, it opts for a kitchen sink delivery that’s ultimately a tug-o-war between alt-rock and nu metal. It reflects the band’s long-running desire to flow with the times but they’ve never looked this out of touch before.
It doesn’t help that while the musicianship is still pretty solid, the band dynamic noticeably feels less unified than the last couple efforts. The guitars aren’t quite as bottom-heavy as they’ve been, largely opting for a mix of lingering rhythmic patterns and punky chugs given a brighter tone that they seem to have stuck with to this day. It is nice to see the drums returning to a more prominent position with an array of creative patterns even when they aren’t at the dexterous speeds of old.
Alas, I can’t help but feel that history might be repeating itself as the vocals seem to get pushed in a corner. Bush’s performance is as commanding as ever but he seems to be locked in a perpetual holler that makes him come off more one-dimensional than before. It’s a solid anchor for the varying moods at hand but the monotony makes it seem like the band was running out of ways to truly utilize his talents. If not the periodic bursts of ill-fitting distortion, I’d almost wonder if Joey could’ve done some of this stuff better…
But for all these weird considerations, the oddest thing is that the songwriting generally isn’t that interesting. Thankfully they put their best foot forward with the anthemic “Crush,” but even that just feels like a “Random Acts of Senseless Violence” rewrite. Other would-be highlights come with their caveats as the shrieky pre-chorus makes the soft/heavy shifts on “Inside Out” feel too overbearing while the Use Your Illusion-style acoustics on “Toast to the Extras” and “Harms Way” can border on a little too cutesy. You can really feel the weight of having to sort through fifteen tracks as songs like “Born Again Idiot” just feel flimsy while the S.O.D.-castoffs “604” and “Cupajoe” feel superfluous even if they wrap up in about thirty seconds.
The subtle diminishing returns that Anthrax experienced through the nineties were at their most obvious on Volume 8. While the playing is still solid and none of the songs are outright terrible, one can feel a disconnect. The variety could give it some underdog appeal but there were more compelling midlife crisis records at the time. As much as I’ve been intrigued by the idea of John Bush touring on a setlist comprised of songs from his Anthrax era, I just can’t imagine anything from this making tbe cut.
