Review Summary: Reflux
Listen up, our kid- I’m gonna tell you a tale from the deathcore days of yore. It’s the tale of a band with a questionable attachment to evisceration of the anal variety and a reticence to securing a full-time bassist. They formed under the grim Lancashire sky of Manchester, UK and eventually settled upon the suitably repellent name, Ingested. The sound? An amalgam of heavy-handed deathcore and punishing slam, razor-wire bound by the concrete-chomping vocals of Jason Evans. Their style struck a chord with many who found the MySpace scene vibe of the age a little too twee, and in time they became relatively well-known for their huge live sound, hideous gutturals and constant touring. Fast-forward sixteen years, and the band is still going strong; more established, respected and prolific than ever before. Yet, there’s been an undeniable tumble in quality during the latter phase of their career; one which can be attributed to the gradual dilution of their slam elements, and their transition to becoming a strait-laced deathcore outfit. The issue with this admittedly slight stylistic shift is that the prominent slam influence gave Ingested a reasonably individual vibe. With the deathcore boom currently underway on the metal scene (and the more dynamic sound materialising within the genre), in order to succeed as a grassroots deathcore outfit there is no room for complacency or so-so material. Ingested are essentially ‘core royalty at this point so it’s doubtful they’ll haemorrhage their listenerbase entirely, but
The Tide of Death and Fractured Dreams represents a very middling deathcore release, full of noise and fury, but lacking in the pummelling dynamism that elevated the band beyond the typical genre sound in the years prior to 2022’s
Ashes Lie Still.
Let it not be said that the album doesn’t get off to a solid start, however. The initial run of tracks are nasty and purvey the deathcore-with-a-progressive-edge the band has been chipping away at in times of late very well. ‘Paragon of Purity’, the album’s opener, is especially vicious, and calls to mind cuts from 2020 release,
Where Only Gods May Tread. Follower ‘Endless Machine’ is similarly rousing, with galloping percussion and a chunky, groovy riff. It’s in the tracks that follow that the release starts to unravel and the collection begins to buckle under the weight of its own laxity. ‘Where No Light Shines’ utilises a faux-epic, shrill guitar hook to backend the chugs, blunting the foreground aggression and making the whole exercise feel quite uneven. This sort of attempted grandiosity is hardly a dealbreaker, especially since the track has a satisfyingly crunchy breakdown to offer, but the issue is highlighted due to the build created by the songs that precede it. Those cuts, whilst enjoyable, felt like they were escalating in anticipation of the selections soon to follow- the third recurrence in a row seems to hint at a band going through the motions instead. Sadly, this theory only fills with more water as the release continues. It settles into a groove that it never transcends, offering strong deathcore energy but never being punchy or interesting enough to be compelling. Any given song will assuredly have a brooding groove, cement mixing vocals and at least one breakdown/ slam segue, but once it becomes apparent that this trifecta is all
Tide has to offer, a lot of the appeal sluices out.
Nonetheless, there’s a relatively good time to be had with
Tide, provided expectations are suitably lowered. The band parted ways with longtime bassist Brad Fuller in 2019 and has operated as a 3-piece with studio instrumentalists filling the void ever since- a curious but commendable display of integrity by the band that has undoubtedly fuelled some of the more emotional lyrical content in the years since. Evans has asserted that struggles both personal and professional were the source for a lot of the thematic content on display here, and on occasion the turmoil of the lyrics is reflected at least semi-effectively by the music itself. There’s a well-implemented use of cleans for the simple chorus mantra on ‘Starve the Fire’ that somehow bypasses the corniness and dovetails with the foreground brutality without feeling forced. ‘In Nothingness’, featuring Chimaira’s Mark Hunter, similarly manages to bind together some more atmospheric leanings within the heaviness without souring the effect, and it mostly works, but some of the expected intensity does start to wane in the latter stages of the song. The personal lyrical touches throughout the LP do afford the album a sense of grounded seriousness notably absent from Ingested’s formative years when the topics at hand were generalised carnage and murder, and the music, whilst certainly not their most creative output, works well in asserting this energy. Whether this adjustment can be chalked up to a maturing band or a desire to evolve beyond expected tropes, the effect is sadly nowhere near as impactful or wantonly savage as longtime listeners know the band to be. The overall tone feels neutered; picked clean of gleeful chaos and supplanted with a discount progressive tendency that allows for a more expansive songwriting style, but one that is far inferior to all prior releases.
It’s disheartening that the sonic springboard Ingested had positioned for themselves following the underwhelming
Ashes Lie Still hasn’t launched them down a path of further experimentation and refinement. Taking steps backward to tried-and-tested sounds would also have been preferable to
Tide’s listless recitation of genre hallmarks and attempted grandiosity. Ingested have been one of the hardest working bands on the scene for some time now, pumping out albums almost yearly prior to this LP, all of which were effectively brutal and, to varying degrees, true to their established sound. It’s bizarre, then, that
Tide was preceded by a gap of almost two years and it’s the most generic the group has sounded since
The Surreption. It’s got the deathcore attitude in spades and breaks out the slam influence on occasion, in addition to being a more thoughtful experience all-round, but it’s far less engaging than anything Ingested have released in the past decade. In an age when deathcore is having an unprecedented resurgence, there could be no better time for a mainstay as beloved as Manchester’s Finest to explode out of the blocks and show that
Ashes was a small stumble as they attempted to appropriately engineer their sound. This would undoubtedly have secured them more fans, not to mention laid further groundwork toward fully evolving their sound to a degree they would be completely satisfied with. As it stands,
Tide offers little beyond disappointing proficiency. Enjoyable for sure, but complacent in execution and sorely lacking in the elements that have made the band a quality genre recommendation during their career.
