Review Summary: Strip it bare.
The first Periphery album was one of those records where, from the minute you heard it, you knew it was going to take off like a rocket ship. I was just a 15-year-old kid and had heard nothing like Periphery before. The staccato groove-driven riffs, what would become the controversial term “djent”, were completely fresh, innovative and alien. You could immediately tell this style of music would have its moment. The hype surrounding the album completely sucked me in as I learned more about the brainchild behind it all: Bulb, otherwise known as Misha Mansoor. Mansoor had built a prolific catalog of demos, snippets and songs dating back to 2004, all packed with incredibly catchy riffs and fascinating ideas. He just needed the right band members to fully bring them to life. The result was Periphery’s debut album, which was essentially Mansoor’s vision realized in full-band form. Many of the songs were beloved Bulb demos finally given the production and performances they deserved. It was such a treat watching well-known tracks like “Icarus Lives!” evolve over the years through different iterations and vocalists (shoutout Casey Sabol). You really just had to be there.
Periphery II was bigger, and quite frankly, better. It took everything the debut album did well and expanded upon it. There was still that glitchy, electronic Bulb DNA, complex riffs, hard grooves, wonderful melodies and solos full of feeling, plus of course the signature soaring choruses of vocalist Spencer Sotelo. Sotelo improved dramatically after the criticism surrounding the debut and proved himself just as fundamental to Periphery’s sound as Misha Mansoor. His theatrical, showy and high-pitched voice has become almost as divisive as politics.
Periphery II also felt like the deliberate end of an era of Mansoor as the creative force driving the entire band. Mansoor himself has been very open about this shift, and Periphery has since evolved into a fully collaborative songwriting effort, with ideas from every member mashed together. That evolution has become both their greatest strength and weakness, resulting in moments of unexpected genius alongside complete creative whiffs. Whereas
Periphery IV felt like a latter-career rejuvenation with tons of bite and creativity,
Periphery V was the band at their most bloated and stretched thin, with some of the genre-blending experiments beginning to feel forced and exhausting.
With so many styles and free-flowing progressive ideas pulled from a multitude of genres, there are bound to be splits within the fanbase. There are so many different types of Periphery fans; it all depends on what you’re looking for. Personally, I happen to enjoy most versions of the band. Do you miss the more complicated riffing of their first two albums? Maybe you prefer the more pop-oriented, Spencer-driven material. Perhaps you want them to be as heavy and hard-hitting as possible. Or maybe it’s the sprawling progressive song structures and epic runtimes that appeal to you most. In any case, it felt like the band was searching for a creative reset, which coincided with this being their first album released solely through their own label. For the first time since Juggernaut, the band abandoned the numbered naming convention and instead centered the album around a singular concept: loneliness. They honed in on that idea specifically and seemed intent on creating something as succinct and straightforward as they’ve ever made, a welcome respite from the sprawling 70-minute runtime of
Periphery V.
I’ve always wondered what a more straightforward and concise Periphery album would sound like. Trim down all the excess fat and cut back on the gimmicks. You pretty much get that with
A Pale White Dot. It still retains the true essence of a Periphery album, namely their relentless creativity. One thing I’ve always admired about the band is that they aren’t afraid to throw every idea at the wall, jam completely different sounds together and experiment like mad scientists. That approach can result in something truly special, while also leaving their albums feeling like a grab bag of treats, some of those treats rotten to the core. Periphery has never been beholden to consistency, whether in their track listings or even their song structures, and for better and worse, it shows.
A Pale White Dot ultimately finds the band at both their heaviest and most commercial simultaneously, creating a stark juxtaposition that can at times feel difficult to make sense of.
I definitely didn’t expect the album to kick off with a soft electronic beat and Spencer’s restrained singing, only to intermittently explode into blast beats and a tremolo riff that sounds like it came straight from Emperor. These are the kinds of strange combinations and stylistic mashups you crave from Periphery, and this time they pay off in spades. That’s the magic of Periphery: just because they’ve become more streamlined doesn’t mean they’ve started playing it safe, not by a long shot. They keep that momentum rolling with what is undoubtedly the album’s best song, “Talk,” and one of the best tracks they’ve ever written in general. The song is dominated by absolutely crushing syncopated chugging grooves, while smaller electronic breaks and a short but killer solo help break up the headbanging. It also features one of the band’s biggest and best-constructed hooks, with Spencer Sotelo sounding as good as ever. This is everything I love about Periphery wrapped up in one tight package. “Mr. God” is another absolute pummeling beatdown that culminates with a truly gnarly breakdown ripped straight out of a deathcore album.
Speaking of deathcore, Periphery decided to branch out even further and, for the first time ever, enlist a guest vocalist: Will Ramos of Lorna Shore fame. Unlike many major bands that are content to throw a guest vocalist into a quick verse, Periphery built the entire song “Subhuman” around Ramos’ strengths. The result is a genuine deathcore track built on simple downtuned chugs and dissonance reminiscent of The Tony Danza Tapdance Extravaganza, naturally culminating in a gargantuan breakdown that actually lives up to the hype. Ramos delivers a quality feature, but Sotelo matches his energy every step of the way, pushing himself vocally with a wide variety of visceral screams. The final breakdown features Ramos’ gutturals layered against Sotelo’s piercing highs, a combination I never realized I needed. Another experiment, another rousing success.
The first half of
A Pale White Dot was pretty much everything I could’ve wanted in a more direct Periphery album. The second half, however, is much more spotty and has them leaning into some of their most commercial material they’ve ever written. At this point, it has practically become tradition for the band to include a singular electronic pop track, this time being “Blackwell,” which serves as a jarring transition away from “Subhuman.” It isn’t quite the abomination that “Silhouette” from
Periphery V was, but it also doesn’t reach the level of “Crush” from
Periphery IV, which at least felt like a respectable stab at synthwave. “Blackwell” is simply dull and lifeless, completely halting the momentum the album had been building. The three-song run that follows finds the band feeling like they’re running on autopilot. None of the songs are terrible, but they aren’t memorable in the slightest. The dreaded “alternative metal” influence becomes especially apparent here. They all feature prominent usage of Spencer Sotelo seemingly trying out a new technique where he softly sings in a lower register to create some truly bizarre and off-putting vocal runs. It’s difficult to even properly describe; you hear it and immediately know something sounds off compared to anything he’s done before. Thankfully, the back half is partially redeemed by “Everyone Dies Alone,” which is one of their best attempts at something a bit more mainstream while still retaining their core sound. It certainly helps that Sotelo has a real knack for writing some epic singalong hooks. We’re ultimately left with a wonderfully bittersweet parting gift in the title track: a three-minute acoustic instrumental absolutely packed with feeling and emotion. It’s a true achievement, one that breathes with so much warmth and atmosphere that it feels like it tells a story entirely on its own. Another very welcome surprise from a band chock full of them.
It’s been a fascinating ride to follow Periphery from Bulb demos to arguably the creation of a distinct genre to commercial industry juggernaut. Over the years their shift in sound has been gradual but undeniable. They are not as musically complex as the young, hungry band they once were, but they’ve become interesting in other unique ways that are worth paying attention to. Their free-flowing, everyone chips in collaborative approach is commendable and produces some absolute gems you wouldn’t think of, even if the consistency can sometimes be lacking. This is both their identity and perhaps their limitation. It now feels as if Periphery is at a crossroads in their career.
A Pale White Dot comes across as a step in the right direction, one that could easily be refined in future releases. It’s far from perfect, but for a first attempt at something more direct after years of writing sprawling progressive epics, it’s solid. Is it yet another experiment, or is this direction the future of the band? Hell if anyone knows what Periphery is really up to, but I do know Misha and company will always keep us on our toes.
