Massacre Records - 1996
4/10
Progressing further into the '90s, both of King's bands are on complete full-time display, we're onto a different label (again), full concepts are reintroduced, the runtime has reached an hour, and the theatrics are boasted like they've never been before! What could possibly go wrong? Well, I guess most of those things don't constitute a problem, but all of them together can be disastrous (or maybe I'm just making excuses). Either way, our seventh full-length record The Graveyard sees the start of an era that has no era; everything from here on out is a matter of throwing, seeing what sticks for better or for worse, and this record is quite a strong indicator of that. The easiest thing to do here would be to simply tell you to listen to the opening title track "The Graveyard" and try not to laugh. What a stage-setter! The sheer unaware silliness that coats the entire 1:22 runtime of it undercuts just about everything else, and that could be the review. Unfortunately, my brain doesn't operate that way (and neither should yours!).
In other words, it would be quite daft to assume that this is the sole reason why something written by the mighty King Diamond turned out objectively bad. For starters, much of the music itself feels dumbed down in each key aspect. Gone are leads that actually feel like they move with purpose, and the vocals that have often screamed forth emotions of fear, terror, or insanity now just sound like empty falsettos or phoned-in repetition. In fact, more often than not, singing and outbursts are replaced with spoken word and hum-like drone tones. Even on songs like "Waiting," where I can at least award it a catchy chorus, it's simply more of the same throughout, doing little to really retain attention.
Similarly, there's an awful lot of meandering in the writing itself. Even an average-length tune like "Waiting" was still not void of this, but your longer ones really hammer that home. "Heads On The Wall" immediately following aims for that slower crawl that the band has perfected so many times, often as an emotional outlet or a means of suspense, but here we're treated to neither. It's instead six and half minutes of bare-basic rhythms, an underwhelmingly repetitive (and of course goofy) chorus, finished with a jarring shift in tone that leaves no impact, and all sorts of unsavory odd vocal moans; hell, even that solo sucked. "Digging Graves" could be described similarly, another slow crawl that should feel insulting to any doom metal enjoyer. Who heard all of the moan, groan and whine that coats so many of these songs and thought it actually sounded anything but ridiculous?
An elephant in the room with The Graveyard may be the discomfort invoked around its subject matter, and I don't mean this in the Clive Barker's Hellraiser way, where I want more of it, but in the Rob Zombie's Halloween way where I wish I could unsee... certain parts. I suppose it's not the worst idea in the world on paper, but the execution itself truly showed how tough it can be to deliver the story of a predator in a spooky context without feeling like you need a shower after listening. Just listen to "I'm Not A Stranger," and I'll reiterate, this is simply insult added to injury. The song objectively does nothing interesting, the suspense doesn't land, the vocals are more spoken than sang, and the vocal noises used as "effect" are simply laughable.
It's awful telling that with all of these problems, I've only discussed about half of the album, but I regret to inform you that the second half fixes none of this. Every descriptor I've given thus far can be applied at least somewhere on the latter half, aiming to resolve things with a vengeful angle that just doesn't feel scary nor compelling. "Trick Or Treat" has that catchy element to it, but literally nothing else besides running on for too long. "Daddy" has that clear aim at suspense that falls short. "Lucy Forever" aims for that emotional edge without reaching it, and "Sleep Tight Little Baby" has that element of discomfort (not the good kind). Package all of this into a full hour of uninspiring music, and you've got your album; disjointed, uninteresting, unflattering, boring, or uncomfortable, take your pick. I understand, a project like King Diamond isn't meant to be taken too seriously as a whole, but there's self-aware fun that still works a chilling nerve, and there's something that sounds like my attempt at writing a creepypasta when I was seventeen. A good friend once described this album as "what all of King's discography might sound like to people who don't like him," and I couldn't agree more.
No comments:
Post a Comment