Voivod - The Outer Limits (1993)

Leave it to Voivod to come up with the gimmick to include 3D glasses with a CD, but that is indeed what happened for the limited edition of the 7th full-length album, the last for MCA records and the first without longtime bassist Blacky. To be honest though, I'd risk being mauled by Martians to get a glimpse of Michael Langevin's artwork, and was not disappointed with the great concept behind the booklet, and lucky to buy that version day one. Like Angel Rat, the songs here each have their own, individual sci-fi concept, many with a more nostalgic tendency than previous albums. So the various 3D graphic panels and the comic book kitsch match up well with their themes, and with the possible exception of deciphering Nothingface, I doubt I've had so much fun with the superficial aspects of a Voivod album.

Of course, they'd be pretty hollow without some damn good music, and The Outer Limits provides plenty of it. God, I remember these days, when I could head out to the store on a release date and pretty much count on my favorite bands to release quality albums, evolution or none. For the Canadians, this would be the last of these, for not only was this Snake's intended swan song with the band, but they'd also lose their major label status. Most people in the 90s were far too busy with alternative rock, hip hop, grunge and hardcore music to really give a fuck about the creative side of the metal spectrum, and Voivod were clearly a casualty of this trend, especially when you consider the buzz they had been generating through the latter half of the prior decade. At the very least, though, The Outer Limits sounds like a lot more push was put behind it than Angel Rat, at least in terms of studio work. This sounds like the last album's more muscular brother, with brighter, mightier guitar tones, and a less psychedelic mix fit for the Saturday Night at the Drive In aesthetic that permeates much of the songwriting.

Similar to "Panorama" or "The Prow", you've got some uplifting, energetic tracks here with a few of the most catchy and accessible choruses the band has ever written, namely the opener "Fix My Heart" and closer "We Are Not Alone", such proud exclamations of joy for the band's lyrical niche that I practically had to restrain myself from crying out in happiness. Piggy's got a lot of flare on this record, almost like he's at long last taking his place as an 80s guitar god, so expect some craziness in both the rhythms and blaring leads, often with a bluesy hue. The Outer Limits is indeed more 'metal' than the two previous albums, but that qualification takes the place of a lot of driving, positive melodies and not so much the murk and groove of a Dimension Hatröss. That said, there are still plenty of creepy moments, or vivid atmospheric tweaks to his performance that it feels like a Voivod, just a Voivod that was cheery to head out the studio and lay these tracks down.

Though he was only a session musician, Pierre St. Jean keeps the bass busy enough that we can forget and forgive the lack of Blacky. The tones are cleaner all around, with less distortion but plenty of low end presence thanks to the higher pitch of the guitars. Drums are very polished here, but more powerfully driven than on Angel Rat, and Snake brings some of that due aggression back from, say, Nothingface. The best moments on this album are admittedly the atmospheric guitar passages reigning cuts like "Moonbeam Rider" and "Jack Luminous", but for 54 minutes, there are few moments worth complaining about. Voivod return to the Pink Floyd cover well with a brazen rendition of "The Nile Song", and while it lacks that hypnotic splendor of "Astronomy Domine", it's nonetheless quite excellent.

The crowning gem, for myself, was the 17 minute epic "Jack Luminous", the tale of a TV-faced invader from beyond the stars who is coming for Earth, and the disenfranchised alien who comes to warn us. First time the band ever attempting such a swollen concept within just one track, and it truly pays off without ever growing dull. Otherwise, you've got plenty of cuts about kitschy, out of this world themes like rocket ships, time travel and, perhaps more ominously, a near abandoned space hulk soaring through the void. This might just stand as one of the band's most professional sounding records, but it's brighter, carefree aspects and looser concepts haven't stood the ages with me like some of its predecessors. That said, it's a Voivod album. A great one. Not much else there sounds like it, and well worth owning, 3D glasses or not.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10] (give me a reason to stay)

http://www.voivod.net/

Voivod - Angel Rat (1991)

Poor Angel Rat. Few seem to love you as I have, for you arrived at a time when people were simply not equipped to appreciate the many values you wore like a billowing gown upon your many-hued flesh.

On the heels of such masterpieces as Dimension Hatröss and the ensuing Nothingface, albums so far ahead of the metal mindset in their time that they are still widely misconstrued and underrated, it would have been a tall task for Canadians Voivod to match themselves effectively with another full blown, heady concept record, and so they didn't. They penned a number of smooth, melodic curiosities, imbued them with the dark, futurist melancholy of Nothingface, and set out to create what was their most accessible album to date, perhaps STILL the most accessible (though the eponymous 2003 album comes mighty close). Lacking the grand, experimental unification of its predecessor, which if we're being honest, had just about abandoned the band's thrash roots entirely, Angel Rat was an attempt at creating a 'metal lite' style that still honored the Canadians' psychedelic, progressive influences like Pink Floyd and Rush, and it's no surprise to me that it was an inspired, if understated success.

Though I had quickly become used to the idea that Voivod was going to be one of those bands who would put out effort after effort of evolving, reliable fascination, I didn't warm to Angel Rat quite as quickly as my brain melted to the two previous albums. The strange collage of images relating to individual songs seemed a bit unusual, as did the classic scrawl of the band name and title font. Yet it still kept that purplish background hue, and I'd be shocked if this turned out NOT to be Away's favorite color. Once I listened, I found that the songs were deceptively simple, quite airy, and focused more on simple melodic hooks. Piggy's dissonant development was subdued throughout, and the band's aggression did not return to its previous heights from the mid 80s. The vocal lines seemed aimed at a broader audience, and Snake was relying less on the punkish pitch he was built on. Also, while Nothingface had turned out a mellower album than its own predecessors, there was still something cryptic about it, unfriendly to the mainstream; where, in a kinder world, Angel Rat could have easily gotten some airplay on rock radio for a "Panorama" or "Clouds in My House".

But don't let this subdued, simplification deceive you into thinking that these tunes aren't poignant and haunting, because frankly they're among the most hypnotic the Canadians have written. Take "The Prow", a fetching piece of maritime mermaid-punk with incredibly catchy verse lines and chorus, and then this trippy bridge with organs, mellow vocals and scintillating guitar harmonies that wouldn't have been out of place on the 1989 album. "Clouds in My House" is what might happen if the Rolling Stones overdosed on space dust and David Bowie covers, while "Twin Dummy" is simultaneously happy and creepy, bass lines flowing like melodious syrup while the titular homunculus makes a new 'friend'. More powerful than any of these, the machine-like, pseudo-industrial rock of "Golem" tells us the sad tale of an artificial intelligence becoming self aware despite its monotonous, predictable existence. I'll take that over any sentimental Star Trek: The Next Generation episode in which Data discovers and contends with another facet of his humanity.

Angel Rat doesn't sound like it was on quite as mighty a budget as Nothingface, but whether it was simply rushed, or underfunded, I couldn't tell you. Regardless, the music is so well structured and memorable that it achieves its own sense of timelessness. The guitars, while not as driving and central as on earlier works, are so light and beautifully scripted to the vocals and drums that I can envision seraph wings sprouting from Denis D'Amour's back. The bass is still slightly distorted, not as often brought to the fore as it was in 1989, but still perhaps the central instrument. Drums are much easier on the ears this time out, and Away could have probably made himself a snack while performing most of these with a single hand and foot, but then the songs don't call for much more energy. As a whole, Angel Rat steers between uptempo, jubilant swathes of melody and steadier, slower pieces that build a more psychedelic resonance, but it's got a remarkably deep track list, of which only the mellow "Freedoom" and "Nuage Fractal" come up a fraction short (and both are still pretty good...)

People that had long felt alienated from Voivod through their 80s progression might have heard this and exclaimed 'what the fuck?' loudly, but I can't say that Angel Rat is ultimately that much of a surprise. It's a subtler record than Nothingface. It doesn't hit you over the head with its outlandish, convulsions of being 'Other', but it just slowly settles onto your spirit like a drugged haze. It may have breached the band's 'perfect streak' in terms of my own reaction, but it's still an amazing album and was a highlight for me in 1991, a year in which I had an adverse reaction to many of the latest records from many of the extreme metal titans (Sepultura, Morbid Angel, Death, etc). It's not heavy in the slightest, at least not in terms of the riffing or aggression, but it's unique, compelling, and very often beautiful...

Verdict: Epic Win [9.25/10] (bold emptiness, omniscient fog)

http://www.voivod.net/

The Ash Eaters - Ruining You (2012)

If there were a stock market for discomfort, The Ash Eaters (ex- Brown Jenkins) would swiftly rise to the top of the traders' list, so dissonant and stinging are the sounds they commit to tape. The aptly titled album Ruining You comes hot on the heels of their Ibn Ghazi EP, another frightening offering which I've since had exorcised from my presence thanks to my good friends at the Catholic Church, and it's the audio equivalent of stabbing your eardrums repeatedly until the chaos and blood forces you into a comatose slumber, dreams haunted by the laughter of these murderous, mesmerizing musicians. Actually, a better comparison might be to remove the strings from a guitar and then floss your ears with them. Right in one, and out the other, piercing all of the gray matter that may or may not be blocking its passage. Oh wait...my secretary just informed me that would more technically be dubbed 'flossing your brain'. My bad.

This is abrasive, reality shearing music that will drive you up a wall or straight off the nearest cliff. The basis for all this is naturally a black metal aesthetic, but I say this only through the jangling twang of the guitars and the constant use of dissonant subversion to rob the listener of any caul of security. 'Voivod plays Burzum.' They truly know how to carve up a chord, splintering its frightful, constituent notes into bloodthirsty attic bats, but there will also be a subtext of thrashing mutes or chords beneath you. The five tracks here are sizable, four of them clocking in at 7 minuets and the finale, titular "Ruining You" at 10, but that's not to say that they needlessly repeat phrases too often. Each is a constantly mutating spectrum of experimentation, sometimes teasing you with an unexpected warmth (the bridge to "Give In to Madness"), or sometimes just dancing upon the strings of your sanity until you plunge the knife into yourself. It's distinctly suicidal and perhaps even a fraction schizophrenic, but don't let that fool you into believe the authors of all this pain are not intent on architecture.

It's hard not to compare it to Brown Jenkins, since the floods of driving discord create a similar, hypnotic resonance, but Ruining You is even more strange and unhinged as it bounces between the playful, impish higher strings and the chugging, evil substrate. Once more, lyrics are included, but these are primarily to be read along with the songs...which are instrumental. Don't fret though, it doesn't take an imagination as tormented as those of The Ash Eaters to envision some tormented rasp over the chord progressions, and the prose itself is quite poignantly mischievous to match the musical structure. Overall, this is obviously a more substantial trip than the Ibn Ghazi EP, it haunts you for a full 40 minutes and thus gives you more opportunity to plunge into its labyrinthine, controlled chaos. Those discouraged into believing that black metal cannot turn over a new-dead leaf are encouraged to check this out, whether your tastes run to the more traditional, depressive strata of the genre, or the more quizzically experimental like Ved Buens End or their new vehicle Virus. With Umesh Amtey and company behind the wheel, I must say I'm proud to no longer need drugs. This is just as harmful an addiction, and will take less time to kill me.

Verdict: Win [8/10]

http://theasheaters.bandcamp.com/

Execration - The Acceptance of Zero Existence (2012)

Colorado chaosmongers Execration cock their fists back here, and give the listener about a minute to simmer in ambient reflection before those knuckles come flying across the confined space from speaker to ear and then continuously club and break every joint and muscle in your face, before proceeding down your neck to the rest of your joints and appendages. The Acceptance of Zero Existence, their sophomore album through Comatose Music, is not a paragon of subtlety or highly memorable composition, but there is no shortage to their promise of pure punishment, and the conviction with which they beat on their instruments is admirable in of itself, even if you won't find yourself whistling their tunes on your morning trek to the commuter rail.

That said, there is a certain level of dynamic range to this album which prevents it from subsisting on the monotony that often permeates such a brutal, blast-driven record. Lots of grooves and chugs cavorting about its nihilistic landscape. Acrobatic flights of tremolo picked guitars that create the claustrophobic sensation that you are being curb stomped by giant insects. I'd also commend the bassist, who is performing constant loops and lines that very often swerve around or step away from the central guitar progressions. Rhythmically, there are a lot of the usual influences to the Execration sound. Morbid Angel's vivacious acceleration and lunatic riffing patterns, Cryptopsy's savage precision, and Deicide's stubborn intensity, though the slamming breakdowns in pieces like "Serpentine Changeling" ring of more contemporary US brutality, and the growls are deeper and more caustic than the front men of the aforementioned legends. Where The Acceptance of Zero Existence functions most for me is in its production, the low end of the guitars churning along in rabid old school ferocity while the double bass thuds out a syncopation, and the bass wanders off into the void.

While technically efficient to exert this level of energy nonstop for nigh on 40 minutes, Execration is a band one will listen to more for its brutality than musicality. Very little melody creeps into the structure of their songs, discounting of course the frivolous and wild patterns that the guitars alternate with the lower end drudge of the grooves. The dense, palm muted chug patterns don't feel particularly distinct in a field of metal trampled on by so many players, and there are points where the record feels pretty muddy and the individual, heavier songs don't do much to distinguish themselves from one another. Then again, they don't burden the effort with tons of needless, noodling indulgence. When they spaz out, they do so meticulously, with every intention of reigning it back in to crush your vertebrae; and they never seem to lose control. I also loved the deep voice over effect they use in "The Stars Will Make Known My Rage", and the spacey effects in the interludes. Dynamically, this isn't quite so engaging as a number of the West Coast acts in the niche like Decrepit Birth, Odious Mortem or Inherit Disease, but nevertheless I'd had fun with the band's furious fisticuffs. Just don't blame me if you run up an emergency room bill upon repeated exposures to this.

Verdict: Win [7/10]

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Execration/152144791470734

Voivod - Dimension Hatröss (1988)

Have you ever experienced a symphony live, stood back and soaked in all its various, congruent instrumentation? Puzzled at how a single human being could have coordinated all the various threads and sections into one cohesive movement? Marveled at what a mind, or collective of minds, this would require? Well, Voivod's fourth full-length Dimension Hatröss offers much the same sense of wonderment, only its orchestra pit has been rendered down to a quartet of Canadians, gradually evolving out of the raucous post-apocalyptic punk/speed metal of their youths into something I don't think anyone could have predicted. This is not a mere album, but a coherent science fiction journey expressed through some of the most creative thrash metal of the 80s.

Personally, I find the band's three successive albums in that 1987-1989 period to each be spotless in its own right, but if prompted to choose just one as an introduction to the band's genius, Dimension Hatröss would be that defining experience. Not only for the unforgettable music itself, but for the amazingly prescient Outer Limits-like concept fueling its central narrative. It's basically an extraterrestrial Fantastic Voyage-noir, in which the band's mascot creature, the 'voivod' uses ridiculous Goldberg science to spawn a microcosm of galaxies, and then use its own twisted technology to step in and explore them, reveling at the various alien cultures within these shattered atoms. Like all great science fiction, though, the numerous social and political situations the voivod encounters within this debatable space reek of tyranny, chaos, oppression, and class warfare, all reek true of our own civilization through history, and thus as foreign and otherworldly Dimension Hatröss may seem on its surface, it's really one giant, timeless metaphor the listener can bet will retain its relevance for the rest of his/her natural lifespan on Earth.

Each component of the album's production and visualization is the perfect catalyst to shape its story. The cover art, drafted beautifully by drummer/writer Away, is one of the most striking and iconic images of the band's career, more colorful than his artwork for the first three records. A frightening, freakish biomechanical aberration stands against some radiating nucleus, crowned by the band's blood red logo. The sort of album cover that I stare at decades later and still find attractively disturbing. The lyrics are scrawled in patterns that create a first-person stream of consciousness of the imagery the 'narrator' has experienced, very brief lines and refrains that relay all manner of key phrases as the voivod journeys on into the madness of this genesis. Much like a captain's log, or a scientist's rambled test recordings; even the narrator itself seems difficult to trust due to its 'voice', but at the same time, the lyrics remain strangely accessible, more 'street talk' than arbitrary technobabble. A wise choice, as the band didn't wish to confuse an audience that was adjusted more to the messages of Anthrax, Possessed, Slayer and Metallica.

One would suspect that the Canadians might drown such a 'space oddity' of a record in loads of effects and excess futurescapes like synthesizers, but once again Dimension Hatröss trumps expectations with a very grounded, sincere production. There are occasionally some processing effects on Piggy's riffing experiments, some fuzz to the bass, and reverb to the vocals and drums, but otherwise this is completely down to Earth progressive thrash metal which you might be experiencing in a rehearsal room. Don't get me wrong, this was professional and polished enough to run with the bigger guns like ...And Justice for All or South of Heaven, but it's remarkably workmanlike, and Voivod sought only to deliver their alien experience through the lyrics and composure of the music itself. Everything is clearly defined and audible, from the grooves to the vocals to the dissonant slices of atmosphere D'Amour splashes upon its obscure universe.

It's not an easy sound to pinpoint, but to best describe the music would be like taking Killing Technology's brash, grimy hyperspace acceleration thrash as a base. Then stir in the percussive, tempo twining hysterics of progressive rock titans like Rush and Yes, swirl in some psychedelic Pink Floyd ambiance and abandon, and season liberally with fusion rock or the voluptuous, eclectic space-funk of artists like Herbie Hancock. Plenty of pure, post-industrial thrash riffs abound through the eight tracks, but they're sauteed in all manner of strange architecture thanks to Piggy's inventive chords. Through the 90s and beyond, a lot of sludge, math core, industrial black and technical death outfits would implement a similar field of streaming minors and abstract note configurations, and a lot of 'core kids and metal nerds were reared on them. But who was the first extreme metal angler casting for dust on the moon, fuckers? Denis motherfucking D'Amour. The leads are whacky, trippy and sparsely wrought through the experience, but each perfectly placed. I also love that the rhythmic choices in each of the songs seem to reflect the culture being explored, but they maintain an aesthetic cohesion throughout the 40 minutes.

Away proves himself an extraterrestrial Neal Peart here, eagerly matching the dynamic eccentricities of the bass and rhythm guitar with swaths of double bass, thundering fills and ample athleticism. Bassist Blacky stands out more here than on Killing Technology, a grooving dimensional rift-beast that anchors the spectral, slumming atmospheres of a "Chaosmongers" or "Brain Scan" with the psychotic communique of its bridge; but also fluid and distinctive in the faster lanes. To this we add Snake's unique punk inflection, somewhere between Bob Dylan and Johnny Rotten if they were spending a night at the local rehab, flushing the chemical adversary from their systems. His voice might run on the nasal side, but it's quite effective at piercing the nebular haze of the galaxies being explore, you can just hear it ringing out on the edge of some black hole, shouting out to you: 'Hey, I'm over here!' Everything instrument and vocal passage is bound together into a lattice of brilliant, ever mutating rhythmics and alien introspection.

There was not a goddamn record out there in the 80s that sounded nearly as stoned on xeno-substances, and every moment from the turbulent intro of "Experiment" to the hammering, jamming sendoff to "Cosmic Drama" has had me hooked for almost 25 years now with no signs of letting up. I'll except the bonus track, a dystopian street surfing spin on the old Neal Hefti television Batman theme, which is obviously not so ambitious or serious as anything else here, but this wasn't available on my original cassette, so it never mattered much to be as anything more than a quirky addition when I upgraded to the CD. Still, the fact that they would even perform such a piece infuses positive karma to the Canadians' inner geek; I once tracked a psychedelic, surfable metal cover of the theme from the moody 60s animated Spider-Man theme for fun, replacing the vocal lines with spacey leads, totally inspired by Voivod.

Of course, there's always been a Flat Earth Contingent among thrash/speed metal fans who never enjoyed this album, never 'got it', or never really cared to try, since it wasn't a rehash of Kill 'Em All, Show No Mercy or Seven Churches (hypocritical, perhaps, since those albums themselves were innovations). People don't want their air space threatened. Many will change the channel when they see Star Trek original series reruns, and hell, some folks just don't want the Twilight Zone impeding into their mosh pit. Much like Killing Technology before it, Dimension Hatröss was just too 'out there', the story of the Canadians' career, and the uphill battle that they've always fought, even when writing more accessibly works like the followups Nothingface and Angel Rat. To these I offer a beer, a cheer, conversation, condolences, and then I'm on my merry way, because I was just bred for an album like this. It's surely a top 20 metal album (all time) for me, and possibly my single favorite Canadian metal effort. Where imagination, vision and musical talent collide and tear asunder the fabric of possibility of something new. Frightening. Inspired. Immortal. Get connected.

Verdict: Epic Win [10/10] (loud echoes of the end)

http://www.voivod.net/

Voivod - Rrröööaaarrr (1986)

Confessions of a 12-year old: Rrröööaaarrr was my first Voivod experience, the first cassette I was able to land of the Canadians through a crafty trade with a fellow junior high student who didn't like it and would be far happier with a copy of Anthrax' Spreading the Disease. Who truly made the most of that deal might be an arguable point, but forgive me for feeling the victor, because this was my introduction to what would become one of my most venerated bands of the 80s. Sure, my Mom took the tape away after reading that it had a song called "Fuck Off and Die", hiding it alongside Slayer's Hell Awaits, but that fateful shoebox on top of the refrigerator did not prove quite so elusive, and eventually I was able to enjoy this to the fullest.

Right away you could see what would attract a tween Dungeon Master to this album, that dreary and frankly horrifying album artwork, another Away classic, with the 'voivod' creature fused into some flame hurling, post apocalyptic megatank chassis of destruction. Spikes everywhere, to impale foot soldiers and of course any unwary pedestrian who would dare cross the fucking street around this thing. The best band logo ever. Rrröööaaarrr took this unforgiving, 'don't fuck with me' attitude to the music itself, which was incredibly brutal and primal compared to most of the other metal I was listening to at that age, but there was something more, far more happening which confirmed and maintained its allure, and has to this very day. In retrospect, having now also owned War and Pain for a considerable length of time, I can note a number of mutations to the core, punk thrash aesthetic that would be further refined into Killing Technology. It's still an irradiated cannibal scurrying about the streets, picking through refuse and taking on all comers with its spiked bat, but the songwriting takes a stride forward and there's a broader dynamic range through the track list.

There's a bigger budget here than War and Pain, or perhaps I should say that there's an actual budget. Period. Gone are the totally disgusting, sloppy guitars from the debut, replaced by a meaty but resonant tone that better suits the chords. Piggy's leads were still as wild as uncaged apes, but the rhythm guitars are just so more poignant, the riffing progressions quite catchy in pieces like "Korgüll the Exterminator" one of the most ambitious among these, and one of the best of all Voivod. What's more, you've got a lot of eerie melodies being flung out into the apocalyptic nightscape of the album's atmosphere, and Denis was starting to sharpen his unique, dissonant approach to chords, while clobbering the listener with a lot more mutes and metallic patterns than the more purely punk aesthetics the first time out. Away's drums here are loud as hell, maybe a fraction TOO loud, but the guy was hitting so hard that it's a wonder he wasn't instantly catapulted into the Dave Lombardo rank in terms of percussion heroes. The bass-lines are even more intense this time out, but the more prevalent tone of the guitars is better balanced against them.

As for Snake's vocals, still pretty bloody and brutal, but there is more of a haughty shout to the inflection than his wretched performance on the debut. The song selection is just so much better, with rich riffing sequences in "Thrashing Rage" and "Ripping Headaches" that set the groundwork for Killing Technology, frivolous leads wrought over the grinding nuclear inferno of the rhythm tracks. Still a lot of punk in here, especially in tracks like "The Helldriver" which remind me of earlier C.O.C.. I can see why some folks believe this album has a lot of repetition, the constant crash of the drums does get redundant as the 38 minutes stretch on, but when it comes to the barebones riffs, there is admittedly a good share of variety, from the more robust and pissed off chord-storms to the NWOBHM styled structures and solos that the band brought over from their obvious Venom and Motörhead influences (the latter of which might have also inspired the use of umlauts in album titles like this one). In general, though, Rrröööaaarrr is more clearly a 'thrash' record in the purest sense of the word.

It's not entirely a work of genius like its successors, and I have a few problems with the mix levels, but the calamitous cacophony of sounds and relentless lyrics have endured for me through the years almost as much as those monolithic works to follow. This music is not going to appeal to you if you're a pussy or a stalwart audiophile; it's restless and off the hook for much of the run time. It's not a mere recycling of speed metal riffs from other bands, either. Though War and Pain was unique enough in its own right, Rrröööaaarrr was truly a band apart from the rest of the world, and this is a timeless and turbulent record that has never been reproduced by anyone, even if its originators would surpass it repeatedly. Rusted madness, social collapse mayhem, and molten industrial spew. The grimier side of 'cyberpunk' joined to the visceral belligerence of the emergent thrash genre.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10] (exposed to the direct danger)

http://www.voivod.net/

Voivod - War and Pain (1985)

Some dream of perfecting their pastry baking and bonbon skills, so they might end up on an episode of Cupcake Wars. Some just dream of the day they can improve their golf game and compete in some tournament Open. I, on the other hand, dream of melted flesh, nuclear Armageddon and the warring tribes of mutants, cannibals, cockroaches, disgruntled postal employees and other sure survivors that would ensue from such a scenario. When the young Canadians wrote War and Pain, they were thinking of these same things as inspiration, and thus, for all its faults and flaked off rust, I still wanna take this album hand in hand and gallop off into an irradiated cloudset together (we wouldn't be able to see the sun for a few years).

To claim that War and Pain feels underdeveloped compared to later records like Killing Technology, Angel Rat or Nothingface would be an understatement, because this is the antithesis of eloquence and experimentation. This music is not about progression, it's about abuse. Though drummer Away's unique artistic perspective and the hostile, post-apocalyptic lyrics set it apart from quite a number of other speed, thrash or crossover records of its day, you could say Voivod had a lot in common with bands like Cryptic Slaughter and Corrosion of Conformity just as much as it mirrored Venom or Slayer. In fact, despite the fact that the Canadians incorporate a bruising NWOBHM shuffle to some of the riffs here in tracks like "Suck Your Bone" or "War and Pain" itself, with a few heavier muted metal passages, this is pretty much a punk album, with simplistic chord patterns that are half the time predictable, half the time spinning off into something more unusual. Mad Max anarchy unfolds throughout the track list, but then there seems to be that added edge of ambition and musicianship which separated the two strains of extremity.

But, as crude as this debut felt, even for the year of its release, there is something tangibly charming about the Canadians. For one, the vocals of Snake here were intense, placing a strained, growling edge on that post punk inflection he would hone through the rest of the band's career (1987 and beyond). The bass is far more prominent and repulsive than most punk music, making it feel more like a caustic, ghetto grind. The guitar tone is quite choppy here, and really the whole album feels like a mess, but there was already something about Piggy's playing that set him apart. The leads in tunes like "War and Pain" were more or less your average blues wailing, but then he'd explode off into other techniques that were more redolent of an Eddie Van Halen if he had been soaked in rust and radiation. The overall aesthetic to the album is one of anger and darkness, it never feels bright or even remotely enthusiastic, but there are a few more psychedelic passages like the end of the title track, or the echoed intro to "Voivod" itself" which foreshadow the band's future.

War and Pain is a great record to throw on if you're in the mood for something unfettered by the burdens of polish and professionalism. I actually like to shuffle these tunes in a playlist with Corrosion of Conformity's Animosity, Repulsion's Horrified, and selections from the Misfits, GBH, The Exploited, maybe some early stuff from The Accused; a giant, splatterific, Cold War terror and gore grinding punk-metal paean that really stirs up the blood. It's also got some parallels to Venom's first few records in terms of just that raw level of theatrical aggression, not to mention the bass-driven foundation for the songs is highly similar to that of the mighty Motörhead. I don't want to deceive anyone, though, this is pure primacy compared to even the band's sophomore Rrröööaaarrr, and I'm far more of a fan of their 1987-1989 material than anything else. That said, I've grown to appreciate this debut forever for its repugnant innocence, bleak world view and utter disregard for subtlety and taste. The 3-CD reissue from 2004 is fucking phenomenal, packed with live demos, videos, and whatever you'd want from this period other than locks of Blacky's hair.

Verdict: Win [8.25/10] (no gods give you the guts)

http://www.voivod.net/

Savatage - Poets and Madmen (2001)

I must have soaked through at least a half dozen t-shirts in anticipation once the news arrived that Zak Stevens had left the Savatage camp, and that Jon Oliva would be fronting yet another of their studio albums. With the continued success of Trans-Siberian Orchestra, and the general lack of interest in the original band, I had no hopes of ever even hearing from them beyond The Wake of Magellan. Though they weren't officially 'disbanded', I suppose, Oliva has repeated down through the decade that the financial benefits and massive organizational undertaking that is TSO more or less precludes productivity from this old goat, but at least back in 2001 they were gunnin' to give it another try...

Well, Poets and Madmen is what we ended up with, and despite a few gleams of curiosity nestled beneath its solid surface, this isn't much more to write home about than Dead Winter Dead or its direct predecessor. The production is upgraded to a 21st century polish, and it's always great to hear Jon Oliva's maddening and monstrous inflection return to the metal sphere, but this serves as little more than a setup for his later albums through Jon Oliva's Pain, which has become the spiritual successor to Savatage in all things non-TSO. Chris Caffery's rhythm guitars on this are bludgeoning, rich and modern, but most of the actual riff structures are pretty weak and uninspired, suitable only as a bed for the orchestration and vocals. Poets and Madmen is not a full 180 back towards the epic metal of Hall of the Mountain King, because it still incorporates a lot of progressive metal elements, like the synthesizers slicing through "There in the Silence" or the sheer breadth of the vocal arrangements, which are comparable to Dead Winter Dead or TSO. Unfortunately, despite the array of weaponry being brought to the table, it falls incredibly flat.

I think ultimately it comes down to the guitars here. Where they once soared with eagles in the 80s, here they feel nearly as pasteurized and uninteresting as Edge of Thorns. The leads, many of which are performed by Caffery himself (Al Pitrelli had largely departed for Megadeth at this point), seem too tidy, lacking that wild animal magnitude Criss would explode into during the first decade of the band. Few of these songs are very exciting, they all just sort of fill out their skeletal framework with the minimal amount of enthusiasm. While it's cool to hear Jon again, his vocals naturally do not have that precise level of volatility that once made them such a distinct and beautiful component to the Savatage sound. I almost felt like the ballads on this record, like "Back to a Reason", provided its best moments, if only because the heavier material is so disturbingly mediocre. It's not an awful attempt to bridge the years between 1993 and 2001, but I feel like musically its just as quickly forgotten as half the albums that Zak Stevens fronted, and certainly it lacks the grandiose ambition of The Wake of Magellan, which was about all that album had going for it.

Even the concept here isn't so compelling, a fiction vaguely built up around a South African photojournalist named Kevin Carter. From the cover, I was hoping it would be about Poe...but Savatage had outsmarted me once again. Too bad they couldn't outsmart the songwriting process for this. Four years, and not much to show for it other than more musical chairs. If this was to be the 'new Savatage', then I'd say stick to the Christmas carols, stockings and candy canes.

Verdict: Indifference [5.5/10]

http://www.savatage.com/

Savatage - The Wake of Magellan (1997)

If The Wake of Magellan sounds like you've heard it before, that's because you probably have. With the possible exception of seeming more guitar-driven than the prior Savatage album, Dead Winter Dead, it sets sail on a comparable conceptual voyage, with the same, bold production values and level of refined orchestration. Contrary to how it reads (and looks) on the cover, this isn't exactly an album about the Portuguese explorer, but a series of current events involving Romanian castaways, an Irish heroine, and an elderly Spaniard who decides to commit suicide at sea, but is thwarted at the last moment when he has to instead choose to save another. Seems convoluted, I'll admit, but it's handled intricately, and no one will be accusing Savatage of not having thought this through.

Where Dead Winter Dead integrated a lot of festive, wintry classical pieces into the original material, this album actively pursues a different aesthetic. The acoustics of "Morning Sun" reflect on an airy, bright European port city, and the piano melodies throughout seem more distinctly 'warm' than they were up in Sarajevo. The guitar tone is comparable, but perhaps even louder than it was, which make sense, since they seem to push the album forward a lot more often. There is also some degree of experimentation with vocal arrangements, especially in weirder numbers like "Complaint in the System" or "Blackjack Guillotine". But, apart from these nuances, the impact of the music is eerily similar to Dead Winter Dead, only I'm afraid it's just not as catchy. I like the ramping up of the potency to the rhythm guitars, but so many of the riffs here are throwaways, cheap and generic groove patterns as in "Another Way" or the boring, climactic chords in the key-laden "Underture". There are a lot of softer moments through the album, like everything else the band did from 1991 on, but I found the balladry to be sadly lacking in quality, and the rock opera elements still inferior to Gutter Ballet.

On top of that, I still don't like Zak Stevens. Like Dead Winter Dead, he's not a huge irritant this time around, but I can't help but feel that every song on this effort would sound superior with the diction of someone fresh, or Jon Oliva himself (who again only sings a few times). I can just envision that rabid rasp of his slicing through the brightness of some of the riffs, where Stevens still comes off too much like someone who is trying and not succeeding. That said, really the worst aspect of The Wake of Magellan is that I find it almost impossible to remember any of the tunes. Few are outright bad or embarrassing, but none of them achieve that memorable climax so common to Hall of the Mountain King or Gutter Ballet. The balance of the metal instruments and orchestration is incredibly flush, like the band were truly on the verge of grandeur had they pursued this space for one more full-length, but despite the cohesive nature I feel, and the truly interesting subject matter of the story, this one rarely leaves port for my listening rotation. Big, bold, and beautifully average.

Verdict: Indifference [5.25/10] (never seen upon a face)

http://www.savatage.com/

Savatage - Dead Winter Dead (1995)

Dead Winter Dead is the first (and better) of two historical concept albums the veteran Savatage would compose to fill out the 90s, and it's at the very least a pretty ambitious effort which sees a continued shift in the landscape of the group's membership. After Alex Skolnick's short one-off performing the leads for Handful of Rain, he is replaced with another guitar god, Al Pitrelli. Longtime drummer Steve 'Doc' Wacholz had also departed the band, and his spot was filled by Jeff Plate. Most importantly, Jon Oliva decided to return to the microphone for a few songs, sharing duties with Zak Stevens, and this immediately makes the record a more tolerable listen for me.

Hell, even Stevens seems to blend in more with this production, not that his inflection has changed, but the moodier and sultrier nature of the compositions seems to better fit him during solemn sequences like the intro to "Starlight" or the secondary, narrative intro, "Sarajevo". The album itself is essentially a Romeo & Juliet style tale being spun through the Bosnian War conflict, far more interesting than Streets: A Rock Opera in concept, and another of the reasons I actually found this superior to the two albums leading up to it. This is far more of a pure progressive metal record, with moments of sheer heaviness amidst the gravitas of somber emotions, not to mention the incorporation of classical medleys in "Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/12", which would prove responsible for the creation of Trans-Siberian Orchestra (who would re-release this very same track), but hearkens back to "Prelude to Madness" on Hall of the Mountain King. They also pay tribute to a few classical composers like Mozart and Beethoven by lifting directly from them. Pay close attention, folks, because while album might not have been an enormous success, it spawned a project that would practically make the band a household name, at long lost...all they had to do was abandon Savatage.

Overall, though, the album seems such a transcendent leap from the creative knuckle dragging of Edge of Thorns or the almost random Handful of Rain, and it's far more effective at expressing its sentimentality than their prior attempt at a pure concept record. Still a lot of Queen influence, also some from The Who. The production beautifully captures the contrast between the harder hitting metal sequences, often no more than a few simple chords per lick, and the arrangement and keyboards of Jon and Bob Kinkel feel like you're staring out over an orchestra pit, drafts of warm tone rising towards you with voluminous confidence. Pitrelli's presence is clearly felt, adding a fusion/jazz element to the lead sequences even more than Skolnick did, and they definitely create a minor spectacle amidst the baser, sweeping bombast of the rhythm section. Though I don't always love Stevens' vocals in them, and the album would have been far superior with just Oliva, or perhaps another front man, tracks like "Starlight" and "This Isn't What We Meant" are admittedly well written. The fact that most of the lyrics are told from a characters' perspective renders them a lot less cheesy than the ballads on the last two discs.

Plate's performance is great, and the rhythm guitars are grafted with plenty of push, so much that there's this clean, live feeling to Dead Winter Dead which feels like Streets on steroids. It's admirable that the band would tackle a fairly recent, relevant event in history without coming off too judgmental or political. The love story doesn't do much for me, but I dig where it's set, and the conflicts created through the setting, a fine twist on Shakespearean tragedy, despite the happier ending. Yuck! I still don't enjoy Zak Stevens, but he was less intrusive on the experience than before, and despite the fact that I STILL feel like I got all the rock opera Savatage I needed with a handful of songs on Gutter Ballet, this seemed to restore some sanity to what in my opinion was an understandably ailing outfit. Sure, I miss the Criss Oliva riffs, the flash and flame of his performance, but you can almost sense his spirit out in the audience, smiling from the V.I.P. box at his survivors' perseverance. Not a great album, but a passable, consistent piece that isn't shy on ambition.

Verdict: Win [6.5/10] (where this all has led)

http://www.savatage.com/