Madball, Outbreak: October 12 @ The Crazy Donkey, Long Island NY

On a stormy night in October, a mid-size crowd braved torrential rains to see New York hardcore heroes Madball perform at the Crazy Donkey, the overpriced gumba nightclub that (more and more frequently) hosts metal and hardcore shows under the name Club Loaded. During their short string of dates with Outbreak, this was the closest Madball would get to New York City, and yet it didn't feel like the homecoming show the band may have anticipated.
Again and again they implored the room to dance and make more noise, but a couple of devotees up front were left trying to pick up the slack for an unusually subdued crowd. Maybe it was the miserable weather, or the huge barrier set up four feet from the stage (the Crazy Donkey, er, Club Loaded takes itself very seriously). Maybe it was the fact that the band's latest album, Infiltrate the System, released in August, hasn't generated a great deal of interest (though, to their credit, Madball played only a few tracks off the new disc, concentrating largely on classic material, including a half-dozen cuts from 1994's fan favorite, Set It Off). Maybe it was the crowd's makeup--compared with the typical attendees at an NYC Madball show, the Long Islanders probably averaged 10 years younger and 80 lbs. lighter, with less than half the tattoos. (Commenting on the "tough guy" label often applied to the band--a reputation inexplicably linked to the group's diehard fans--singer Freddy Cricien said disdainfully, "If telling the truth makes you a a tough guy, then so be it.") In any event, for a band (really a whole musical genre) that thrives off the live atmosphere, playing so close to home, there was a noticeable absence of energy in the room and you could see the disappointment in the band members' faces.
During their final song, the hardcore anthem "Pride (Times Are Changing)," a massive (think biceps the size of your head) member of the band's crew began tussling with one of the club's obese bouncers right in front of the stage. Cricien simply stared at the scene in disillusionment; it was just one of those nights.
Opening for Madball was Outbreak, a young, energetic outfit (with great guitar solos--really!) from Maine, whose blisteringly fast hardcore songs owed more to punk rock than heavy metal. The room was half empty for most of their set, but looking at the eager, angry quartet, you'd have thought they were rocking for a packed house.

review: One Starving Day--Broken Wings Lead Arms to the Sun

With an album title like Broken Wings Lead Arms to the Sun, one might expect One Starving Day to play the sappy brand of emo-tinged metalcore that’s inundated the heavy music scene over the past few years. Fortunately, they don’t. Though the music does owe something to melodic hardcore, the band plays a largely instrumental, low-key style of rock, augmented by violin and spacey, cosmic sounds. One Starving Day’s approach is occasionally aggressive (most often in the hardcore-styled, barked vocals), but usually just melancholic. Each opus (the record’s five tracks average almost 10 minutes in length) plods slowly along, layering keyboards and samples over one or two simplistic guitar riffs, while the drums march with an improvisational feel. This begins to grow monotonous after a while, as there aren’t quite enough ideas on hand to fill the 50-minute running time. Nevertheless, One Starving Day has created a different kind of album, one that will doubtless be the perfect soundtrack to someone’s rainy day.

One Starving Day
Broken Wings Lead Arms to the Sun
Planaria Inc.

review: Spektr--Mescalyne

Spektr is a scary band. Seriously. Forget corpse paint posturing, because this is the real deal. On Mescalyne, the French duo plays an unnerving, unpredictable style of black metal that intertwines samples and ambient noise with shrill guitars and throbbing drums. Rather than constantly pounding the listener into submission with blast beats, drummer “kl.K” (as he’s billed in the liner notes) actually grooves. Likewise, the guitars aren’t the heaviest you’ll hear this year, but their tone is distinctive and exceptionally creepy. The emphasis on atmosphere (but not hokey theatrics) perfectly creates a cold, mournful vibe, so when the metal does explode at full blast, its impact is undeniable. Despite its unorthodox approach, Mescalyne is a surprisingly accessible record, grabbing the listener with discernible (if heavy—and strange) guitar melodies. And clocking in at only 23 minutes, Spektr’s latest leaves you wanting more from these burgeoning black metal masters.

Spektr
Mescalyne
Moribund Records

review: Too Pure To Die--Confidence and Consequence

Des Moines, Iowa quintet Too Pure To Die play perhaps the most generic brand of chug-chug moshcore imaginable. If you’ve ever heard Throwdown, Bury Your Dead, or any of the other myriad metallic hardcore bands who substitute open chord breakdowns for songwriting, you’ll know exactly what to expect. Trustkill’s rerelease of Confidence and Consequence benefits from excellent production, courtesy of Andreas Magnusson, and a couple of catchy riffs. There’s nothing aggressively awful about these songs, but the band retreads such well-worn territory that the whole affair feels uninspired. Expect lyrics like, “You’ll always be dead to me,” and “I’ve got the straight edge”; the occasional metal lead; and breakdown after breakdown. You’ve probably heard this all a million times before, and done better. Too Pure To Die brings the mosh and not much else.

Too Pure To Die
Confidence and Consequence
Trustkill

review: Every Time I Die--The Big Dirty

When Every Time I Die released their full-length debut in 2001, they were among a promising handful of American metalcore outfits. Since then, the genre has grown so oversaturated with cookie-cutter clones that the term metalcore is now a dirty word to heavy music fans. Every Time I Die distinguish themselves from the pack on their fourth album, The Big Dirty, a record that succeeds by ignoring the tired conventions of its genre.

Frontman Keith Buckley eschews the emo croons and power balladry of his peers and instead belts balls-out rock melodies, catchy as hell and dripping with rancor. Melody has always been part of the singer’s arsenal, but never before has he sung in such a freewheeling fashion, and his increased confidence using clean vocals is palpable on tracks like “Buffalo Gals” and “Leatherneck.”

Even if Buckley remains most comfortable screaming bloody murder, it is not only the tone of his throaty barks, but the content of his unique, tongue-in-cheek lyrics that carries The Big Dirty. Buckley has a knack for injecting off-beat, sarcastic phrases into songs at just the right moments. “I smell a drop of beer in a ten-gallon tank and I’m moving in for the kill,” he bellows on “We’rewolf,” before launching into a sprawling chorus. Compared with the revenge invectives and vaguely ominous images favored by so many metal and hardcore bands, such quirky witticisms give Every Time I Die a distinct edge

In fact, it’s this rejection of metal’s typical self-seriousness that’s most refreshing about The Big Dirty; for the Buffalo quintet, heavy music and fun aren’t antonymous. This relative levity is most evident on “Rendez-Voodoo” and “A Gentleman’s Sport,” where Southern rock comes to the fore and guitarists Jordan Buckley and Andy Williams swagger with huge, headbanging riffs. Moreover, the record is peppered with allusions to partying and debauchery. This is not to say that The Big Dirty is a throwback to 80s hair metal; the riffs are too aggressive, the words too sardonic. But Every Time I Die add a certain playfulness to their pissed-off hardcore that never detracts from its urgency.

Although, at their most basic, the songs on The Big Dirty are still chugging hardcore tunes with heavy metal flourishes, it’s clear that Every Time I Die have larger (if not necessarily loftier) aspirations. This record is most exciting when open chord breakdowns and double bass pedal are supplanted by infectious melodies and actual grooves. And while it’s difficult to imagine the group abandoning their hardcore roots—and their fanbase—they remain only a few steps away from becoming a full-on rock n’ roll band. It’s tempting to ask, then: If they do go that route, just how big could these guys be?

Every Time I Die

The Big Dirty

Ferret

CRUCIAL MOSH

CRUCIAL MOSH is dedicated to all things metal and hardcore. Expect concert and album reviews and occasional musings on the state of the aggressive music scene(s). God-willing, the speech on this blog will not devolve into the hate-filled vitriol found on so many sites dedicated to metal and hardcore. After all, music is about having fun, right? (and being tough... and evil...)