Hellyeah - Blood for Blood (2014)

The suck just keeps on sucking. One might presume that by their fourth full-length album, Hellyeah would at least find themselves capable of aping the least of those works they are trying to emulate, which by my count is Pantera's Reinventing the Steel. Sadly (okay, not so sadly) the few spare riffs of worth spent on this material are intertwined with such mediocre groove/thrash/grunge passages and saccharine bullshit tough guy posturing vocals that I often find them impossible to differentiate. There is appreciable meat and force behind a few of the rhythm guitars, I'll grant the Texan all stars that much, but when all your choruses sound like Phil Anselmo attempting to front Alice in Chains and Black Label Society, you're playing to an audience well behind the times, who has yet to realize that such a union sucks and pretty much always will suck outside of the genuine article...

I'll be a little more fair: they bite off more than Pantera here. For instance, "Demons in the Dirt" has a mechanistic rhythmic callback to something you'd hear on Prong's Cleansing, tunes like "Moth" might has well been sent over to Nickelback or Hoobastank to plague the radio channels, and there are even a few clean guitar passages here which sound like something In Flames would have woven into some of their signature melo-death. But it's all so pasteurized, so meek, so 'Ozzfest 1997' that I could not listen through this with a straight face. Once in a while, a riff with some genuine heft will arrive and then quickly become marginalized by the garbage 'catchy' chorus which isn't so catchy, the emotional self-touching of Chad Gray which will no doubt inspire BMX rallies and WWE walk on themes for the next decade. So heavy, bro! That thick, credulous guitar tone recycling groove metal is perfect to pump me up during my next CrossFit training session. Maybe they'll play some of this in between the next Monster Truck session at the muddy local arena-grounds.

Do we still really live in a world where people think shit bands like Stone Sour and Disturbed fucking matter at all? Because if we do, this should go multi-mega platinum! I feel like this is a symptom of musicians remaining well out of reach (err, out of touch) with reality. Look: some trends or styles or distinct individual bands are everlasting. Iron Maiden? Forever. Judas Priest up to 1990? Timeless. Ride the Lightning? Right on. The chum-sucking detritus starving for creativity in the wake of records like Far Beyond Driven and A Vulgar Display of Power will not, and even if Vinnie Paul has more of a right to this obese bucket of swill than anyone else can claim, it doesn't mean he shouldn't leave it for the fishes and do something worth a damn. The guy has the chops here of a glam metal drummer, lazy rock beats with an occasional feat of exertion when they start to get heavier. Okay, there's a little deja-vu in that statement, but we all know he's capable of being a part of something greater than this, and I'm not saying jump back on the Pantera bandwagon, but perhaps start something that is more than the sum of a self-caricature. This is like Five Finger Death Punch (one of the worst bands on Earth), albeit with a few more genuine thrash riffs mixed in. Blood for Blood...you couldn't even come up with a half-decent title. Lone star sharks with blunted teeth.

Verdict: Fail [2.5/10]

http://www.hellyeahband.com/

Hellyeah - Band of Brothers (2012)

As 'wishful' as I might have been that Hellyeah would suddenly manifest destiny and become the rattlesnake wranglin', tobacco spittin' Texan groove metal beast that I know lurks within it, Band of Brothers is more or less the Pantera album there never was, a pretty straight shot of tough guy tropes circa Vulgar Display of Power & Far Beyond Driven with a few clean chorus sequences to sate that disenfranchised nu/groove metal radio rock audience who need a break from the band's constant, leaden breakdowns and jumpin' bean bounce rhythms. Still, as miserable as their prior albums Hellyeah and Stampede were, this album does see a further solidarity of the band's writing skills, and I'd say the riff patterns feel more punchy and violent. If only the Dallas bruisers could thematically match the guitar lines with cooler lyrics about cacti, lassos and abandoned vehicles with trunks full of cocaine in the desert, they'd be my dream band...

Okay, I'm lying about that, but at least they'd amount to something more than drunken leather jock metal with a few cowboy hats for effect, and the sorts of banal personal lyrics that always plague the groove metal niche, loaded with cliche lines and concepts relevant to angst-ridden teens and barroom brawlers. I will say that these guys lay on the riffs quite angrily this time out, and songs like "Call It Like I See It", "War In Me" definitely draw straight from the Exhorder/Dimebag Darrell well of leaden, swaggering palm muted hostility set to Vinnie Paul's rock-infused drums. The leads tend towards bluesy, burning patterns dowsed in heavy effects, fairly fitting and lacking in overindulgence as the band careens towards their next fist swinging rhythm, always careful to set up breakdowns that will have their core audience in stitches and casts by the end of a performance. They also almost managed to get through an entire record without forcing our noses into the ballad trough, with the exception of "Between You and Nowhere" which sounds like it belongs on Load or Reload-era Metallica or a Staind record with James Hetfield guesting.

Nothing wrong with the production values here. Again, if you love Dimebag's processed but efficient tone and riffing sequences, then Maxwell and Tribbett do a respectable homage while branching out a little in the solos. I don't particularly enjoy how Chad Gray uses his voice here, but he's fluid enough in his transitions from the traditional Anselmo rrrrruuuuuaaas and hwaass to the cleaner tones or a slightly more vicious and serpentine rasp to the tough guy narrative style. Bob Kakaha's bass-lines are loud and pushy and Paul's about as peppy as the songs allow, just don't expect much extreme metal drumming, he lays down a pretty standard array of beats and fills that play more to the curving momentum of the guitars. That said, without any exception, the songs pour like wet concrete into one ear, mix around in your head, never seem to solidify, and then drip out the opposite. There is just no place for this music anymore except in tribute to the oft-maligned dregs of the 90s where thrash devolved from its inspirational roots to everyman groove bullshit. 'we walk the walk'? Indeed.

Tunes like "Rage Burn" and "Drink Drank Drunk" have no other value except the comical, and I really wish the band would put their collective necks on the line and tear out a few faster pieces instead of just moving at the mid-paced groove/step circa "Walk" or their slower breakdowns. As an example, the last song, lamely titled "What It Takes To Be Me" is about half the speed of what I'd like to hear from them. In the end, though, the lyrics and music here just do nothing for me. The riff set is surely superior to Stampede, but as someone who rarely ever feels any urge to break out his copy of Vulgar Display of Power, I can think of no impetus to seek out an album that so stands in its shadow. If you live and breathe "Mouth for War" or "I'm Broken", or blues-based groove metal bands like Black Label Society, or maybe even a heavier alternative to the German Desperadoz, then perhaps you'll have a more favorable reaction to this record than I did. To me, Band of Brothers feels like I stepped into a saloon seeking a gun fight, a prostitute and a few hands of poker with outlaws, only to discover it was some lame gift shop where the best I could do was an "I Survived the Alamo" t-shirt. Wholly forgettable when it's not outright weak.

Verdict: Fail [3/10]

http://www.hellyeahband.com/

Hellyeah - Stampede (2010)

The fact that a second Hellyeah album has manifested itself is proof that either there is a divine entity who fucking hates us all, that we are merely the receptacles of a several-tiered, torturous joke at the behest of one Vinnie Paul, or that major label record executives in the United States are batshit bonkers. Okay, we know that the last one is true regardless, but the jury is out on the others. But let's give Hellyeah some credit this time: they at least shelled out a few dollars to some hack for a stampede of bulls on the cover, instead of another boorish photo session that the members could stroke themselves to as they must, staring in the mirror each evening before a gig in front of whatever LCD audience actually gives them the time of day.

I'm going to give Hellyeah a little more credit than even this, because while Stampede sucks at the donkey trough almost as much as its predecessor, its clearly better in almost every means imaginable. The production is just as clean and professional as one would expect from this seasoned crew inhabiting the nu-metal pantheon, and Chad's vocals are a little better, as he seems to be channeling Bay Area thrash gods James Hetfield and Chuck Billy on half of the tracks. The lyrics, while still dumb as a stump, do more to convey that feeling of God fearing, fire breathing Texas motherfucker aggression that any of us with a taste for fun would truly expect from a band of this sort. For example:

Ya see I sold my soul at the cross in the road,
Somewhere down in Texas where the devil had spoke,
Said boy you wanna be somebody sign on the line,
I said I gotta raise some hell so I ain't got the time

Fair enough, my good men, fair enough. I can get behind this. It spits fumes. It spits gasoline. It's not tactful, and it's not poetic, but it's honest and makes me want to fight someone, somewhere, at some point in time, and that is exactly what I want out of a band with Vinnie Paul behind the sticks and a herd of bulls trampling the dust on the cover. You can draw a little blood to this first song, "Cowboy Way", which seems like a Pantera dingleberry hanging on from the Great Southern Trendkill days, with the mildly more thrashin' vocal delivery. Sure, the tuning of the guitars and relative, plugging simplicity of the riff patterns feel rudimentary at best, but I didn't immediately question if the world was one big Candid Camera episode starring myself as I did listening through the previous album.

Instead of surging to some rock hook track like they did on the debut, the band continues to barrel forth through a hostile number "The Debt That All Men Pay". They save the rock track for third, "Hell of a Time", but at least it seems to have some more attitude. "Stampede" reminds me a lot of the song "Hellyeah" from the s/t...perhaps the band has some twisted plan to record one shitty thrash-gone-nugroove title track each time they hit the studio. Needless to say, it sucks, and the rest of the album follows suit, with the "Cemetery Gates" meets "Fade to Black" bullshit of "Better Man", horrible vocal/riff exchange of "It's On!", the chugging lowdown grime of "Pole Rider" and dumb wigga grooves saturating "Alive and Well" until the rock chorus erupts.

Still a 'hell no' for Hellyeah here, and Stampede certainly doesn't elevate the band beyond the suck territories, but its undoubtedly better crafted than the first record out. For a few moments, at least, you can be transported to a hard ass world where your guns, tobacco and attitude are all that separate you from the precipice of death. However, I still feel like this band should stop 'horsing' around (haw haw) and KICK some ASS! Write a concept album about some famous cowboy or something, and enhance both the musical skill and ambition. Clearly these guys can play what they need to play, and judging by the vocal improvement alone, Chad is up to the task of something far better than what he's written here or in the awful Mudvayne. So make it happen already, and kick our asses back into the 19th century.

Verdict: Epic Fail [1.75/10] (another day in the trenches)

http://www.hellyeahband.com/

Hellyeah - Hellyeah (2007)

Despite what most bigoted anti-rural Americans would tell you, we could always use a few more heavy Southern rock bands, especially if they're willing to take the rustic, bumpkin grooves of a Molly Hatchet or Lynyrd Skynyrd, and the more recent, unsung Agony Column and Raging Slab and run with this cross-section of styles into a more extreme territory. Having drummer Vinnie Paul of Pantera adopt such a formula for his post-Damageplan project is not such a stretch; this man has grown up among such influences and both of his alma maters were certainly exhibited traits of nasty Texas grooves and shotgun rodeo attitude.

But the problem with Hellyeah starts long before the baneful first notes of the namesake track even erupt, and you need look no further than the absolutely shoddy cover image, which has 'poseurs' written all over it, a bunch of men in cowboy hats prominently displaying tattoos, crossed 'tough guy' arms or Vinnie's 'Here's lookin' at you, slickster rock pose', with the longhairs tucked conveniently behind for some metallic cred. With the undeniable notoriety and success Pantera, and the shitty bands Damageplan and Mudvayne (whose members represent 80% of this lineup, joined by guitarist Tom Maxwell of Nothingface), wouldn't you think a little more could be scrounged up than a flaming pose shot affixed to a horrendous Photoshop logo? This album was issued through Epic/Sony records, so are you fucking kidding? A little effort goes a long way, and the image fronting this debut shows none. It does not bode well for the musical content...

...and once you've peeled away every urge to simply toss this in the dustbin then and there, summoning up the old wives' morality play on never judging a book by its cover, you are greeted with a moderately bouncy thrash riff and Chad Gray's Southern charged hybrid of Rob Zombie, Phil Anselmo and David of Disturbed. I won't deny the man has some power in his pipes, but he's so often used it for the wrong reasons, and this is just the latest, an awful smattering of nu-metal aggression that wouldn't be sufficient for the backstage at an OzzFest. The remainder of the band also phones in the material, creating generic verse-chorus songs out of horrendously juvenile lyrics that wouldn't fly if the band members were 12. I mean, even in this very first song, the thrash rhythm disappears within a moment, ceded to an atrocious bounce-core groove chorus which was only mildly entertaining when Biohazard did it numerous times in the early 90s. As for the lyrics...

If ya don't give a shit ya getcha hellyeah
Throwin' fists in the pit ya getcha hellyeah
Think you're fuckin' with this well hell no.
Balls, volume, strength getcha come on
Drinking beer smoking weed ya getcha hellyeah
Gotta bruised attitude ya getcha hellyeah,
Think you're fuckin' with this well hell no
Balls, volume, strength getcha come on

Seriously, is there a human being in this country, or this world dumb enough to actually think that these are good or inspiring lyrics? FUCK OFF.

Beyond this abortion, the band immediately lurches into a big melodic radio rocker you'd expect out of Puddle of Mudd or any other failure to launch at Alice in Chain's rectum. More melodic chords, a typical ascending pattern of notes and no lights on at home. Fuck, if I wanted to listen to this shit I'd just stick to Corrosion of Conformity's midlife crisis. The rest of the album merely bounces between these poles. The aggressive content includes the rappy stupidity of "Matter of Time", the more thrash-heavy "Waging War", and "Rotten to the Core". Wannabe Alice in Chains songs include "Star" and "Nausea", the latter being the one track on this album that is even mildly catchy, and even then only for a few seconds. I'd love to point out some other strengths here, but aside from the production, to which plenty of resources were poured into, there is just nothing one can say, for any of this pedestrian mental disability manifesto.

So in short, you're not getting a kickass Southern groove metal record here. You might have thought you were signing up for such a prospect, what with the cowboy hats, the Christawful band moniker and raucous attitudes. What Hellyeah is, is just a celebrity sausagefest of failure. Failure to write good music, failure as proof of a band concept, failure to even lick the boots of the band's other project (most of which are utter poo poo themselves). How about you tough guys harden the fuck up and write something worthwhile? Take all of this largely undeserved celebrity you have ridden into this major label deal, and write us an album that makes us want to drink rattlesnake venom, plant boots in city liberal hipster asses and shatter whiskey bottles at 100 yards with rifles? "Alcohaulin' Ass"? Clearly you need to lay off the sauce and haul some ass in other areas, like writing music that might validate the waste of space you are.

Verdict: Epic Fail [.25/10] (a little bit thirsty, a little bit used)

http://www.hellyeahband.com/