Several years after releasing one of the many albums that carried me through the hopeless year that was 2020, Freeways would come back to show that they weren't a once-and-done act. The Canadians' debut grounded them as a band that tampers within the line that is heavy metal and classic rock influence, with a cool identity that avoids anything too heavy. Dark Sky Sanctuary more or less takes on this exact same path, and some might argue that it's a little more metal oriented. After all, it's Metal Archives acceptable now, so it has to be, right?
Well, sort of. For starters, I wouldn't say that this disc got any heavier than what we had prior. The rhythms take on the same tone, slapping on similar scales in the minor keys, riffs themselves seem to still linger in that '70s-esque shape, and you really can't more cleanly produce what was already squeaky clean. The main change that I've found here is that the pacing feels a bit faster at times. Overall, it doesn't really boost the mood, however it certainly stands out in songs like "Give 'Em The Gears" that kick up the bass rumbles backed with a harder drum kick and overall aggressive delivery. For the most part, though, a lot of this energy is channeled into solos that bring forth a sharper edge on top of otherwise fairly steady rhythm sections. See "Can't Deny Destiny" or "Travelling Heart" for a whiff of what I mean.
Being yet another brief disc, I found this to be extremely digestible, however it may take a few listens to find what's truly unique outside of some songs being a tad more aggressive. From time to time the bass actually takes more precedence than the guitar, likely tying in with it having a heavier rumble in some tunes. Moreover, certain psychedelic elements seem a little more obvious, once again likely having to do with that fuzzy bass, as well as the wandering lead guitars that seem to go up in priority when paired with the galloping sections. Otherwise, I wouldn't expect anything too out of the ordinary.
This leaves Dark Sky Sanctuary feeling like a simple part-two of what has come prior. Make no mistake, this is certainly still packed with catchy choruses and a comforting aura, loading in harmonies one after another to compliment strong melodies. But when you open the gates with such a masterful debut like Freeways' first outing, it may be tough to leap forward from there. This is absolutely still worth picking up, considering its foundation comes from something super strong.
Several years back, during the dark depths of quarantine and unemployment, much of my time was consumed with taking in anything new I possibly could to occupy an idle mind. Of course, that meant hearing a bunch of junk, but Freeways was a band that was anything but; the cover art alone intrigued me. The Canadian quartet's first record titled True Bearings managed to capture something I'll call a cold atmosphere that feels warm inside. So no, this isn't going to be anything harsh or unforgiving.
Quite the opposite! While tunes that feel like they breath hope or anything uplifting are pretty void, the songs are still extremely digestible and comforting. For a majority of this, minor scales and bleak passages pair with strong melody, concise singing, and bouncy rhythms. Riff-wise, it could feel right in place next to your favorite late '60s or '70s rock 'n roll act as well as well as the earlier NWOBHM projects that made the tube amps nice and hot. The end result is a soothing yet melancholic ride that's fitting for a fall evening, perhaps driving through the country.
With that in mind, the best tunes on True Bearings tend to swim back and forth between the scale tones while slapping on a heavier dose of catchiness. "Dead Air" is my personal favorite, weaving in memorable licks and steady execution that slowly turns to a damper atmosphere for the chorus. Blues influence certainly makes its way into this in one form or another, heavily evident on the slower trudge of "Time Is No Excuse" without getting too heavy. Groovy chops are no stranger to the band either, evident immediately in opener "Eternal Light, Eternal Night," and the intro on "Battered & Bruised" lays that on heavily. The latter is another favorite, highlighting the bass-driven bottom, tampering with more metal oriented playing while still containing one of the sleekest and cleanest chorus executions on the disc. The addition of an acoustic guitar was also a nice touch.
Freeways are a fun little outfit, and they're unique in the way they fit the rock 'n roll and heavy metal sound while simultaneously feeling like neither. Sometimes its lighter than a feather, other times bluesy riffs break into a tough bottom. Most importantly, the songwriting itself is top-notch and I can't say anything ever felt awkward. For how short this is, they really crammed a lot into a little.
Amidst the explosion of what we'd come to know and love as thrash metal, it wouldn't take long for it to fall into clearly different paths, with different regions specializing in certain ones as one would expect. We don't need a full lesson on why some went the melodic route, some the gritty and raw route, and some the dark and harsh route. What we do need to acknowledge is that while Slayer quickly fell into a groove that fit with the Bay Area at the time, Show No Mercy and what it achieves specifically has yet to be replicated, even by themselves. I'm writing this over forty years following its release, and I still fail to find something that captures the feelings of the California act's debut record.
The obvious answer is that they're probably the closest any thrash metal band ever came to replicating the Di'Anno era Iron Maiden records with a meaner tone, heavier distortion, and evil overcast barely three years following Iron Maiden. But it takes a little more than obvious influence to run with something of this caliber. Show No Mercy with its impeccable drum tones that break through the darkest channels of the album, with Tom Araya's menacing screams that boast more lung strength than any death metal vocalist could dream of, with its screeching leads that carry us to something unique every time, brings together the aforementioned NWOBHM genius and songwriting and forges a record that collectively feels like a journey through Hell, war, and torture under one of the most evil umbrella's I've ever gotten in music (sorry for the paragraph-long sentence). Making something so blistering and soul-crushing while managing to feel poetic, mature, and structured is a rare feature of its own, but I say again, it has yet to be matched in this regard.
As one might expect, Slayer has a couple different approaches of laying this in front of us while still give everything its own identity. The most obvious might be the direct attacks with a speed metal backbone in mind through the whole run of a song. Probably the record's most well known track, "Black Magic" is the best way to exemplify this, running on the exact same breakneck pace the entire duration, sneaking in wails and delivering a brutal punch with otherwise monotoned vocals and classic metal shrieks. Opener "Evil Has No Boundaries" rolls things off the same way, but with an arguably more hoarse vocal attack, shoving it in our faces in the front before letting Hannemen and King finish us off with multiple solos. To the opposite end, the closing title track lets Lombardo take the forefront, showcasing his beautiful kicks for a hot second to remind us what's present for the entire disc anyway. We could even lump "Fight To Death" and "Die By The Sword in here, but more intricate rhythms are favored here without dropping any of the speed, and I love that for them!
Another approach is taking the dark and evil feelings to the top and letting the lyrics deliver more of the blows than the music itself. "The Antichrist" has to be one of the most evil songs I know, not only with the lyrics but with the extreme conviction in which Tom delivers them, capping it with that "eternally my soul will rot!" which still gives me goosebumps to this day. "Metal Storm/Face The Slayer" will scratch a similar itch, but it's unique in that it does it in two parts, one built on that speed metal front we discussed, while the other cocks-and-loads that horrific Satanic narrative with poetic and concise lyrics that trap the listener themselves into that pentagram. Sometimes that's all it takes; powerful stuff delivered in a way that feels less threatening on paper due to calmer speeds and more digestible progression, but is even meaner in its narrative.
Such musical patterns show brightest on "Crionics," mostly because I think this tune is a blatant nod to the early Iron Maiden records. Its riff structure strips it of everything else I've described, almost feeling melodic yet casting tones dark enough to fit with the rest. The singing is also at its cleanest here. "Tormentor" fits the bill as well, utilizing an almost catchy chorus along with bouncy leads that paint a wonderful portrait of being stalked and captured by something mortifying right off of the night-time streets. Again, I can't stress enough how Tom's never-again-matched delivery plays such an important role. There's not a single bad song to be had, and while I'd probably give "The Final Command" the title of Show No Mercy's worst tune, it's still incredible and sits nicely in place. A faster tune in the mix of the calmer ones that's just as pleasing as the others, it only has a little less to speak on.
It's fun giving endless praise to an album from time to time. Slayer would go forth and create another handful of legendary albums beside their Big 4 counterparts, but they'd never do this again, and neither would anybody. Classic thrash clones exist all over the globe, some good, some not, but none have reached what this one reaches even four decades following. Slayer would soon become easy to meme, despite my soft spot for their music, but not here. Perfect, unique, unsettling, youthful, evil, mature, poetic, catchy, threatening, mean, and gritty are some of many words I would use to sum this up, and it's amazing how some contradict each other but work so swimmingly, painting pictures and scenes in my head I can almost step into. Show No Mercy is an untouchable, unfuckwithable record, right next to Rust In Peace, Among The Living, and The Years Of Decay without having an identity anything like those, outside of simply being thrash metal.
Some thrash metal albums of the early days had that "this has never been properly reproduced" element, which is usually a good thing, as the energy can only be derived, not matched. There are more than enough Kreator clones out there, but I don't think I've come across a single band that has nailed the sound of their first two records in modern light the way Desolus does. Understandably, it does beg the question of "why would I listen to something so similar when I could just listen to the thing itself?" Fair, but I think it's fun when a new generation can match something so nicely while feeling refreshing within the scene.
System Shock is the first full-length, despite the band being active for around five years. At its core, this is German-inspired thrash with the dial turned up to the max. However you'll find tactics that wouldn't be common in the style until later every now and then, such as more punk-oriented riff breaks. To pair with this is also a mild hint of slightly easier-to-digest patterns, all garnished with the classic metal shrieks that aren't afraid to step away from the harsh rasp. I wouldn't go so far as calling any of it melodic, however, just a little less chaotic.
Those tiny treats are what help break up an otherwise one-sided attack. It also helps that the band are good at smoothly swapping between different beats and atmospheres, feeling jarring yet fitting in the likes of "Curse Of The Technomancer." Overall, the tones really bake in the feeling of terror that tends to come with apocalyptic themes involving destruction and monstrous beings. Even tremolos make their way into the likes of "The Arrival (Of Evil)" with the rare presence of some of the bass.
It's likely also true that System Shock only works because of its fairly brief run-time. At the end of the day, Desolus haven't done anything new here. What they have done, however, is nailed down a very specific influence nicely, and managed to make it feel like more than a simple clone. Thus, fans of this specific style will probably love this, otherwise it may just seem like "another one." I happen to be grouped with the former.
Seeing where different brands of thrash and hair metal went in the '90s is one of my favorite things about having been born in that decade; as an adult, I can retrospectively see these without the "you had to be there, man" factor. Exodus is a special example, because while I absolutely adore their masterpiece Bonded By Blood, there aren't many other albums I have that close of an attachment to. Don't read my wrong, the other '80s albums are pretty good, but at the expense of sounding like a contrarian, I truly think Force Of Habit takes second place for me. Not only do I think the time it was released hurt it, but the album art added insult to injury.
From the gate, this is easily Steve "Zetro" Souza's best vocal performance by a longshot. He wasn't an awful fill-in for Paul Baloff, but the direction this record takes fits his voice better than any album before or after it, in my humblest of opinions. Force Of Habit works around vocal melody far more than any of the other classic discs, or the revival records, channeling its aggression into attitude rather than full-force heaviness. The rasp is still present, yet contains a cleaner swiftness in delivery that oddly taps even more into the AC/DC-inspired snarl that the band hinted at with its earlier cover of "Overdose."
But musically, the guitar chugs and the toned-down groove-gone-bluesy metal almost allow this to feel heavier than the straight thrash attack that was their whole career until this point. Density and precision over speed with a cleaner vocal approach turns what could have been a disastrous overproduction with too much gruff into a more pleasant experience in line with Anthrax's Persistence Of Time. The bassy eruption of the title track comes to mind, as well as the more evenly-layered "Count Your Blessings," that nice acoustic lick at the end being a solid touch. Both are packed with attitude that doesn't feel too "tough-guy" but also utilizes catchy verses and bouncy rhythms.
Catchiness is another thing worth discussing as well. Exodus have had a few of those banger-standouts on each of the other Zetro albums to this point, but none seem to focus in on this angle to the same degree, further cementing my belief that this is the style he was meant to sing. Opener "Thorn In My Side" brings in one of my favorite riffs the band ever wrote, caking on poetic builds and a memorable chorus that I can never get out of my head. Adding a kick to the first blow, "Me, Myself & I" follows this up with the exact same presence, understanding the need to hook the listener early on with a release of this length. (Because no band could simply not use up as much space as possible when the CD hit it big, amirite?) "Climb Before The Fall" is another one that sneaks in between the two longest tracks, feeling like a hardcore-inspired dance number that has chop after chop, and some of the meanest drum kicks.
Let's not forget the outliers, ones that manage to stand apart significantly but somehow don't come off as awkward (well, mostly). "Architect of Pain" is a full-on doom metal tune, an eleven-minute epic that admittedly could have trimmed itself a bit but still reinforces its statement with strong repetition and a menacing delivery. Gradual phasing, acoustic layering, and fierce undertones work as the backbone. I probably sound like a broken record by now, but again, Zetro's singing is absolutely impeccable overtop of this slow-burning fury. "Good Day To Die" also comes to mind, as it's about as close to straight up rock 'n roll that Gary Holt and co. have ever gotten. The stripped-down instrumentation along with its tongue-in-cheek lyrics really seal things off nicely.
My only real complaint about this record is the inclusion of two extremely unnecessary covers, The Rolling Stones' "Bitch" and Elvis Costello's "Pump It Up." The band clearly didn't learn its lesson from the train wreck that was War's "Low Rider," and while these aren't quite as offensively bad, they create awkward spots in a long experiment that would otherwise be entirely void of it. Perhaps it would also be fair to say that a few other spots on Force Of Habit are a bit more ambitious than they needed to be. Closer "Feeding Time At The Zoo" felt a little unnecessary, and a few of these longer numbers could have lost a minute or so.
Ultimately, what I love about this outweighs my tiny complaints ten-fold, and save for the covers, there's no single track on here that I don't enjoy to some degree or another. For years, I kinda stuck to the first three records and would occasionally dip my toes in the 2000s-onward pool, simply because of this record's heinous sleeve. That was a grave mistake, and I urge anybody who made it this far to give it a try as well. It's one of those albums where the more I listen to it, the more I like it.
I've long been rather intimidated by the idea of reviewing Opeth albums, considering the number of close-together spins I like to give something before hurling up my thoughts. But, I guess I got over it; after all, why not? The Swedish prog-metal group have a pretty impressive discography, with enough distinction to break into eras. A region we'll find Ghost Reveries within happens to be my golden age for Opeth, where the death metal hasn't fled but takes maybe one-third of the forefront, leaving all sorts of room for beautiful, clean passages or intricate heavier noodling not uncommon with Death's later output.
And like all Opeth discs, Ghost Reveries is best received in its entirety with little distraction. Few bands have pulled this off in a way that I actually find appealing. Even Dream Theater venturing into death metal territory likely wouldn't sit well with me, but I'll be damned if Mikael Akerfeldt and co. didn't nail exactly that. Here the quintet utilizes acoustic guitars with a haunting mellotron and organs to paint the bleak setting one may imagine, often times allowing the heavier moments to sink into that mold. Even at the record's heaviest, grueling distortions hardly play any roll, in exchange for cleaner but menacing weight that the rhythms manage to kick forward.
The most obvious example is the album's ten minute opener "Ghost Of Perdition," however that's hardly anything daunting by this point in the band's career (or even on the entire record). Mikael's vocals swim fluently into the faster digs with higher tempos that aren't afraid to lay clean harmonies atop a crushing metal core. Whether it's the soft hum or the guttural growls, it always fits. However, the greatest melodies take charge when the entire playing field settles, much like the simmering coolness felt in "Hours Of Wealth," an acoustic ditty carrying a feeling of butterflies in the darkness. "Atonement" captures this same feeling but with warmer colors, as its leading licks backed by a bongo and deep repetition shine a little brighter, contrasting its droning buzz. And anything with a grand piano lead is gonna hold at least some value.
Fear not though, because some of the best moments also lie in the songs that let no feet off the gas pedal. "The Grand Conjuration" will forever remain a favorite of mine, kicking in the start/stop chugs right away and melting those jarring shifts into a puddle of somehow still catchy passages. (Fun fact: if you watch Nathan For You, Bill, from the final episode "Finding Frances" is in this song's music video). For the most part though, Ghost Reveries works with strength in starting and finishing hard while filling in the center with sugary flavors. The aforementioned "Ghost Of Perdition" tying advanced rhythmic poetry following a crushing, unrelenting first strike of explosive riffs and punishing vocals is once again the easiest example. I may even argue that "The Baying Of The Hounds" pulls this off even better, with its conglomerate start that's less abrupt yet somehow feels easier to digest thanks to the layers of organ easing us in (ha). Maybe I'm just biased.
All in all though, Opeth truly hit their peak in this era, and this is likely my second favorite record behind only Watershed, before the band would lose almost all of their death metal ties. As overwhelming as it may sound, I often find this to be a good starter record for new fans of the Swedes, since it perfectly encapsulates the largest spread of their career in one spot. Would it be safe to say just a few songs meander a little longer than they needed to? Probably, but the way it's broken up allows this to be easily overlooked.
Everybody talks of how bad the veterans of '80s heavy metal tanked in the '90s, but if there's something I can say to contrast that, it's that I love the different directions many of the bands took, for better or for worse. Slayer is one where I have mixed feelings. Four years following their smash classic Seasons In The Abyss, they would swing in with Divine Intervention, a record that I have a love/hate relationship with. It's a game of appreciating the new ideas brought to the table while overlooking the awkwardness (and some... cringe lyrics at times).
For starters, rather than taking influence from the rising grunge and '90s rock movements like Slayer's "Big Four" counterparts , they moved towards a punkier edge. Yet, there isn't a full divorce from the cleaner thrash that Tom Araya and co. would use to lift their previous South Of Heaven and Seasons In The Abyss albums to the big leagues either. For the most part, the songs that utilize this punk momentum into a way that feels natural tend to do well, while the ones that feel unsure lack confidence or depth. Few songs here are outright bad, though.
Focusing on where the band nails it, the swift punch "Sex. Murder. Art." feels like the band literally hinted that they were about to release an album of punk covers soon. In less than two minutes, Slayer all but creates the classic Minor Threat-esque two-part kicker that doesn't feel forced with a thrash metal punch. Moreover, you have the relentless anarchy that is "Dittohead," backed by pummeling and concise drum kicks and slick breaks in the tempo. However, you'll need to look past the awful lyrics; like, really guys? The country with the highest prison population in the world needs to... imprison more people?
Others fall somewhere in the middle and can be hit or miss. Opener "Killing Fields" starts us off promising under a ballsy drum opener with Paul Bostaph being new to the group, and a solid gradual momentum buildup to a fun chorus. To the opposite end, the title track hits a bit of a doom outlet that feels fierce due to the production and Tom's horror-drenched, panicky outcries. Unfortunately, the back half of the album wanes down little by little, as "Serenity In Murder" absolutely butchers this similar idea, and the likes of "Circle of Beliefs" feels really clunky in execution despite an admittedly cool chorus. I guess I can also dig the thick energy of "213," but by this point things feel somewhat played-out and I'm ready for things to wrap up. This would have honestly made an incredible opener.
At the end of the day, Divine Intervention is a pinnacle example of a transition album, one that I often appreciate for its neat ideas despite some obvious flaws. I find myself returning to it from time to time, for nothing else than a small level of charm it contains. It's certainly not up to par with the classic run, but unfortunately they also wouldn't make anything any better ever again save for World Painted Blood almost two decades later.
