Band – A Torn Mind
EP – Barriers
Label – Self released
Release date – 1st March
Sounds like – jazz meets psych-rock-meets Transformers and Phil Collins.

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On ‘Barriers’, A Torn Mind are unsure as to what they want to be in life. They’re a shapeshifter, constantly morphing their sound into new and intricate ways, never staying in one form for more than a minute, before erupting into something even more ostentatious and vibrant. In many ways, this could be a turn off – it could be argued they’re not giving enough time to adapt and work on a specific style, preferring to favour the jack of all trades, master of none philosophy. Let’s take a listen…

Opening track ‘Sixes and Sevens’ is so pompous and overblown you can imagine a fat man gyrating to it whilst stuffing himself at an all you can eat seafood restaurant. The guitars whine with complex precision, falling over each other in casting out the sprawling scatter of notes, whilst the drums roll and pound keeping a steady, heavy beat. Suddenly it begins to glitch and shudder; abruptly stopping and force-feeding the slightly hurried, yet overtly keen vocals into the mix. It changes from a quite heavy intro, into a somewhat cheesy, pop-rock bounce, led by 80s-sounding keyboard blasts and overlapping vocal-effects, not to mention the brief inclusion of a brass section. The soft jazz interlude they shoehorn in divides the track nicely; even if it has a ‘sounds like it should be played in some late night Channel 5 erotica’ (not that I’d know – ahem.) The last half of ‘Sixes and Sevens’ isn’t quite up to the sporadic opening the track promised, but ends in suitable grandeur; with ringing key-shrieks, offset by rambling drums and the fragile, yet gradually-strengthening vocals.

‘Edge of the World’ is like listening to a slower version ‘Pretty Hate Machine’ era Nine Inch Nails without Reznor’s trademark bark and swapping the industrial hammer pound of the techno-influenced drums for a more standard, metallic approach. It also has a lot in common with Coheed and Cambria – the strange mix of prog-elements and light, pop-rock with synthesised passages give a nod towards the big-haired prog-punkers. It’s almost smothering – technically impressive, layered, twisting rock that splices the roaring, chug of the guitar and bass alongside the weighty and intense keyboards which dominate this track with a striking, yet imposing mood. In fact, remember the old Transformers movie? The one with Orson Welles as Unicron (big fuck-off planet) and some of the most comedy dialogue ever? Well this tune could replace any of the ones created by Stan Bush and no-one would bat an eyelid.

‘Titans’ counterbalances the extravagant and flamboyant eruption caused by ‘Edge of the World’ and adopts and more melodic and structured path. It is in this instance where the vocals fit and sound at their strongest. On the more brasher sounding parts of ‘Barriers’ the voice seems a tad weak and constantly battling for attention; like a cat and a dog balancing on a ball in a vain attempt to distract their owners away from the elephant their son won on a radio show. They soar, if that’s the right expression, on this wave created by the swirling 70s-style guitar drone and the chattering bass groove. At just over the 4 minute mark, ‘Titans’ jerks and twitches from the Jekyll character of calm to the Hyde character of callousness, but again switches back to the melodic route, as if suppressing this sudden fracture in their structure.

Whilst ‘Impurity’ starts off as quite a ominous track, it feels a bit weighed down and scrambles to even hold your attention, which is a shame for a piece of music that started off quite promising. However, it gains momentum and surges into life with a demented piece of jazz-noise-punk scrawl as the saxophone takes control, giving a nod towards Sweep The Leg Johnny-style chaotic fury. The dual-chanting vocals, scattered saxophone parps that swerve in and out give ‘Impurity’ that adrenalin boost and it soon becomes this rising tidal wave of squealing, reverb and overblown, yet structured noise that froths with a sinister urgency.

A Torn Mind must be closet Boston fans. It seems strange that they would mention the likes of Genesis and Pink Floyd, yet fail to mention the Tom Scholz led seventies rockers in their long list of influences. What I’m referring to is the similarities between the beginning of their track ‘Vita’ and Boston’s ‘Foreplay‘. It’s a frenzied rush of synthesised notes with only the hard edged stop-start drum pattern adding variation. This introduction feels more like a dedication than anything else, juxtaposing that familiar opening outbreak with their own soaring beats. The lead riff is a joyous sound, a stark change from the disturbing elements heard on ‘Impurity.’ This closing track is a strange one and a perfect example of the schizophrenic nature A Torn Mind have when it comes to song writing. One minute it hits the high notes with the fist in the air, windswept cry to the heavens of anthemic stadium prog-rock self-pleasure; then it deviates to erratic Dillinger Escape Plan-esque guitar shredding, sounding more like a pissed off hardcore band trying to break through. Praise has to be directed towards the excellent use of samples; which appear in the form of excerpts from speeches, particularly one made by Evangelist, Voddie Baucham who is an advocate of God reigning down fire and brimstone on unbelievers, questioning why the lord delays this outcome. It’s possibly one of the best use of spoken-word samples I’ve heard in a long time that perfectly suits the music it’s accompanying. This image of a man screaming to the heavens for the wrath of almighty God to descend down on the sinners is supported by this surging and menacing rush created by A Torn Mind. It’s creepy how well the two compliment each other – you can almost imagine the untold destruction as Baucham implores these terrible events over the crescendo of sound.

For a first release, this is brimming with promise and passion. Through this 5 track, 40 minute juggernaut the different musical directions have been sliced up and scattered throughout, giving a heady mix of what A Torn Mind’s music has to offer. This of course, gives it an unsteady foothold, but those willing to preserve will take to the sudden changes and variations and witness a real talent that isn’t afraid of experimentation.

‘Barriers‘ can be pre-ordered from the band’s myspace here and their EP launch takes place at Sneaky Pete’s in Edinburgh (sold out, so you might need to blag your way in.)

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Links

A Torn Myspace

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By Ross Macdonald

I have followed The Blood Brothers since 2003 after hearing ‘Ambulance Vs Ambulance’ on a compilation, which made me have that ‘ohmygodi’vegotsomefuckingjaffacakesinmypocket’ realisation. I’d listened to a lot of hardcore punk/metalcore before, but nothing prepared me for this. The castrated vocal squeals, the raw guitar scratches, the nonsense lyrics  – not to mention the glockenspiel. It all seemed to fit together in a weird, dysfunctional way – and I was immediately hooked by their scattered intensity.

The Blood Brothers began in 1997, featuring vocalists Johnny Whitney and Jordan Blilie, drummer Mark Gajadhar, bassist Morgan Henderson and guitarist Devon Welch (who was soon replaced by Cody Votolato). They didn’t record their first album until 2000, having released a stream of 7” records (which were later compiled as the ‘Rumours Laid Waste’ Ep, which also features Welch on the cover). Their debut, ‘This Adultery Is Ripe’ was a raw, scrappy cluster of noise and epileptic shouting. Dual vocalists Whitney and Blilie were like two yappy little dogs, biting and snapping at each other in a blind fury. Two years later, the band returned to the studio to record concept album, ‘March On Electric Children’ a 9 song short story about the bleak lives of the characters Mr Electric Ocean and The Skin Army. This was the band’s first foray into utilising other instruments, aside from the standard guitar, bass and drum set up. Henderson’s use of korg synthesisers as well as a range of samples came into play, however, the terrifying highlight is the bizarre closing track that features only Whitney and Blilie sat at a piano. The pair alternates between mashing the keys, and screaming like unruly children to a rather Bugsy Malone-style, honky-tonk lead of flamboyant optimism. It’s a jarring, and disconcerting end to an album that took the template set by ‘This Adultery is Ripe’ and ripped into the notions of egotistical superficiality.

The band was soon snapped up by V2 Records and released ‘Burn, Piano Island, Burn’ in March 2003. With a bigger budget and nu-metal maestro Ross Robinson on board, it soon became their breakthrough record. Between ‘Burn…’ and ‘March….’ The Blood Brothers evolved significantly. For one thing, ‘Burn, Piano Island, Burn’ was twice as long as their previous release, clocking in at just under 48 minutes. Their style had changed considerably – the hardcore element still remained, but become tighter, reigning in more chance at experimentation and the extension of sounds. Songs like ‘God Bless You, Blood Thirsty Zeppelins!’ were cut into various scenes, shifting from alt-rock to fiery hardcore punk through razor-sharp time changes. ‘Every Breath Is A Bomb’ was the sound of a circus playing Black Flag songs via a Gay Pride Parade. ‘The Salesman, Denver Max’ spliced acoustic and stoner elements perfectly, whilst the slow burn of ‘The Shame’ and the chaotic noise-core thrash-fest of ‘Cecilia and the Silhouette Saloon’ emphasised just how far the band had come in creating something totally mind bending. It was a triumph and is often regarded as their best work to date.

‘Crimes’ followed a year later and saw yet more change. Votolato’s shrieking guitar was toned down in places, whilst more macabre sounds were injected into the fold courtesy of Henderson and Whitney as well as more percussive elements alongside Gajadhar’s drumming. The album had a subtle political message, targeting both military policy and the Bush administration, with the closing two tracks ‘Celebrator’ and mostly ‘Devastator’ critiquing the US military campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan. ‘Love Rhymes With A Hideous Carwreck’ became a massive hit and was on regular rotation on the hard rock music channels, more so than ‘Ambulance Vs Ambulance’, which came out a year before. After touring ‘Crimes’ Whitney and Gajadhar worked on a new project called Neon Blonde; which mixed more electronica-based elements and dance-rock alongside the harsh punk of The Blood Brothers sound. They released the EP ‘Headlines’ in 2005 and followed it with their only album, ‘Chandelliers in the Savannah’. Blilie and Votolato joined with Nick Zinner of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Justin Pearson and Gabe Serbian of the Locust to form Head Wound City, a band described by Bilile as sounding like “The Alien and Predator’ starting a band instead of fighting each other.” The only recorded output is a 10 minute self-titled EP, which was also released in 2005.

After time apart with other projects, the band went back to the studio and recorded ‘Young Machetes’ their 5th and final album. The 15 tracker, would be their longest album to date. It was also a possible foreshadowing for their split; as it brought together all the various stylistic shifts the band had gone through since it’s inception. Songs like ‘Rat Rider’ and ‘Johnny Ripper’ harked back to the days of ‘This Adultery Is Ripe’ hardcore punk, whilst ‘Laser Life’ gave a nod towards the heavy use of keys and samples as heard on ‘Crimes’ and ‘Set Fire To The Face On Fire’ and ‘Vital Beach’ had elements of the band around the ‘Burn….’ sessions. Of course, their current sound was also in play: tracks such as ‘1,2,3,4 Guitars’ blended a sombre Radiohead-ish vibe of despondence with their caustic hardcore, whilst ‘Street Wars/Exotic Foxholes’ mixed ambient trance elements with a new-wave pop edge and ‘Giant Swan’ fixated on the celebration of large birds under a staccato rush of noise.

After two UK tours at the beginning and middle of 2007, the band was put to rest through a collective decision. Blilie stated later that the split was also down to “not being able to find a middle ground where everyone was happy” and generally just drifting apart.

What I admire about The Blood Brothers is their talent in creating such exciting music. Their shifts and alterations in sound over their 5 albums shows real progress in redefining their music and style. It was still heavy and discordant enough to engage those who liked the more raucous side, yet it had that dark pop edge and chaotic punk rock streak of scatter-brained insanity.

They basically destroyed what I knew about hardcore punk – they made all other bands in that spectrum of music sound pretty much irrelevant. Their music was harrowing – it stalked me. When I first got ‘Burn, Piano Island, Burn’ I found it such a difficult listen. I’d make it about halfway through and have to turn it off and just sit there thinking “shitting crikey.” I think if an album can make you do that, then it’s truly something special indeed. It was such a concentrated rush of unrelenting rage and wailing emotion, mixed with a dangerous fire of unhinged brilliance. I kept going back to it though, re-listening to certain songs over and over before moving on. It began to consume me. This was the only thing I’d listen to. I’ll always remember the look I received from my friend Tom who lived next door to me in halls who looked in during one of Whitney’s testicle-retracting screams – it basically said “you either lost your hearing ages ago” or “Ross seems to be listening to the soundtrack of someone having various vital organs removed through their nose.” – Possibly right on both accounts.

Their lyrics were largely nonsense, full of non-sequitur shouts and visions of warped depravity and at times, commentary on the current political climate, especially the material from ‘Crimes.’ A mythical place dubbed ‘Piano Island‘ was a regular lyrical feature; appearing in both their debut album and as a subject throughout most of ‘Burn….’ Due to the dual vocal attack, most of their songs were deranged conversations between Whitney and Blilie, trading lines with each other like two warring misanthropes and were for the most part, extremely unsettling once you deciphered their content.

It sounds cliché, but there will never be another band quite like them, (mostly because no-one in the world can imitate THAT voice) but they should feel proud to be one of the most experimental and influential bands associated with the post-hardcore community.

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Where are they now?

Johnny ‘sounds like a castrated choir boy being tortured’ Whitney and guitarist Cody Votolato joined with J Clark of Pretty Girls Make Graves to form Jaguar Love, a dance-punk/indie/weird beast – all camp screams and flamboyant mannerisms. Jaguar Love are now currently a two piece (Whitney and Votolato) and are set to release their second album, ‘Hologram Jams’ in March this year.

Mark Gajadhar, Morgan Henderson, Jordan Blilie and old guitarist Devon Welch have formed Past Lives, who’s debut album ‘Tapestry of Webs’ should be out soon. They released the EP ‘Strange Symmetry’ back in 2008.

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Video

Click on the player below to listen to ‘Cecilia and the Silhouette Saloon‘ taken from the ‘Jungles Rules‘ DVD.

Links

The Blood Brothers
Jaguar Love
Past Lives
Neon Blonde
Head Wound City

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – And So I Watch You From Afar
EP – The Letters EP
Release date – Feb ‘10
Label – Smalltown America Records
Sounds like – a roundhouse guitar to the face and a bass drum to the spine.

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It’s always good to kick things into a higher gear. No-one wants to be stuck following down the same narrow linear tunnel; showboating the same moves and familiar scenes. If you’re Pennywise – fair enough, you stick to what you know which is rehashing the same album over and over, albeit with a different title and more songs about sticking it to the man than the last one. For bands like And So I Watch You From Afar you forgo the use of a frontman and instead do your speaking through guitars and drumbeats. Instead of falling into what I see as a familiar pattern with most instrumental bands (although they don’t claim to be this), And So I Watch You From Afar have examined their past material, thought “ok, that was brutal…it was the kind of crushing heaviness we wanted…devastating rock music…what do we do now?” The answer of course lies in the 4 tracks they’ve created in the form of ‘The Letters EP.’  In certain places it’s not as dense as their self-titled debut. It cuts and changes pace with a spasmodic jerk; flitting from a pummelling barrage to intricate string plucks, before changing tact again and swerving towards a winding mass of prog-punk.

‘S is for Salamander’ begins with a disjointed guitar drone – a see-sawing stagger of choppy riffs that envelop you like a warm, yet aggressively loud bear. When the drums enter the fray, they fight a valiant no-score draw battle with the groaning guitar for supremacy. It has the same pattern as an erratic heart monitor, just before the unfortunate individual goes into a cardiac arrest. This rickety build lasts for a good minute before it all stops and a cocky build enters play. Chris Wee’s superb drumming; all flamboyant rolls and wrist-flicking flair brings a positive marching beat to the And So I Watch You From Afar sound. The kick at the 1:45 mark is absolutely sublime as the snarling guitars cut in and out of each other with swirling grace and pinpoint accuracy. The bass roars behind this all, threatening to devour the drums, which become the dominant driving force. It ends with a somewhat low-end snarl of bass-heavy grunge rock excellence.

Despite ‘D is for Django The Bastard’ only being 2 minutes and 32 seconds long, it manages to cram in a hell of a lot of styles. For instance; first it starts all summery; melodic guitar tones a soft, sweeping haze of twinkling notes – then the drums muscle in, stamping over everything with snotty, enraged post-punk disgust; before rolling into whistles, yelps, cat-calls, chants and distorted percussion, supplemented by jerking stabs of angry guitar notes. It then falls into a bouncing jazz beat, sounding like some act that’s soon to be introduced by Louis Balfour, jazz club style, before climaxing in a metallic build of scything guitar lines, those rolling drum blasts and a cacophony of ecstatic noise.

‘B is for B-Side’ sways uncontrollably. Once again, the drums take lead, whilst the irrepressible wash of the twin guitars and mangled bass hum angrily in the background, flooding the track with their down-tuned filth-encrusted salvo. Guitarists Rory Friers and Tony Wright create an unholy disharmony of strangled mesmerizing sounds from their instruments; bending and twisting this raucous chaos into a feedback soaked squawk of beauty.

‘K is for Killing Spree’ is a closer to end all albums. Again, it starts with that subtle build; all calm, focused guitar plucks, allowing the drums to fade in and keeping a steady, regimented beat. It’s then that everything starts to go out of control – as the drums finally find their stride and volume, so to do the guitars, churning out scrawling riff after scrawling riff with energetic prog-rock styling. There is a fair few amount of builds in this – much like 65daysofstatic; ‘…Killing Spree’ relies on the construction and then destruction of sound. It’s like a huge wave, raised high above a lone surfer that then swoops down, crushing the poor bastard beneath its rolls of foam. The midpoint is just after the 3 minute mark, during which ASIWYFA snap the track in two. The first part ending in a turbulent mix of stuttered feedback and garbled drumming and a distorted whine that slams into the Mastadon-esque grunt of metallic barbarianism. But it’s CONTINUOUSLY broken down – it suffers from ADHD; not content to follow the same path, the twists and relentless urgency are so focused and the closing 2 minutes is a spiraling noise-a-thon of unremitting resonance and shapes, sounding more like an army of musicians than the 4 determined noise-makers that make up And So I Watch You From Afar. Vocal-less rock music has never sounded more mesmerizing and destructive as this – With these 4 tracks, And So I Watch You From Afar say more with their haste-fuelled barrage of instrumental prowess than most bands manage in a lifetime – easily the best thing they’ve recorded and sets an impressive outlook for their 2nd album.

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Links

And So I Watch You From Afar
Smalltown America Records

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Rammstein
Support – Combichrist
Venue – Wembley Arena
Date – 4/02/2010
Damage – would have paid double what I originally paid and then some.

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Rammstein are similar to Michael Bay – both like fire and both like explosions. Also, the louder the explosions and the fiercer the flames, the better it seems. Even standing in the middle of Wembley Arena I still felt as though someone had thrust my head towards an open hearth. I’m surprised some people weren’t holding marshmallows up in the air.

Opening and only support band Combichrist forgo the use of stringed instruments, seeing the guitar and bass as redundant and instead utilise two percussionists and a keyboard player who resembles Blanka crossed with one of the Psychos from Borderlands. In fact, this description would suit any member of Combichrist, although the vocalist has the look of an escaped convict pretending to be a computer game sprite. Combichrist build their sound around a wall of percussion, with both drummers at opposite ends of the stage, sandwiching the insane keyboard player within this vortex of blast-beats. They’re loud – like dangerously loud and incredibly cocky. The two drummers alternate between climbing over their kits (which are designed to look like some bizarre coiled tail), especially the maniac to my right, who spends most of the set wailing on only a cymbal, clinging on for dear life. Interestingly the only lyrics I can decipher underneath the hailstorm of abrasive tribal drum patterns and shrieking keyboards consist of a volley of swear words, meaning that my ears must now be finely tuned to detect profanity as of watching too much late night comedy or Combichrist just aren’t very imaginative when it comes to writing lyrics. There’s something animalistic about their performance – raw, almost Neanderthal in its primitive drive but incredibly focussed and aggressive. Plus points for the dismantling of the drumkits at the end and the left-hand drummers desire to swap sticks every 10 seconds. Like listening to a techno-metal version of Slipknot that’s been confined to tribal music and casio keyboard demos for too long. A band I would be interested to see in a headlining capacity very soon.

For the German industrial metal juggernaut that is Rammstein it’s been far too long. Rumours of them splitting have been banded around since the release of ‘Mutter‘ in 2001; but they’ve remained a unified, well oiled (ahem) machine throughout such gossip and controversies associated with their imagery and music videos and to have them back on our shores is a delight.  When it comes to stage entrances, no one quite does it like Rammstein. As the lights dim, dull silhouettes form on what is presumably a fake wall at the back of the stage. Cracks appear as the band break through the partition and make their way on stage, like something from a European re-make of Star Trek.

They open with ‘Rammlied’, the first track from their most recent album, ‘Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da’ a track which shares similarities with ‘Rammstein’ from the band’s debut album, ‘Herzeleid’, i.e. chanting the band’s name in a thick German brogue. This is greeted with rapturous gusto from the assembled crowd. With Rammstein you get more than just a band standing their playing their instruments – it becomes more than a just a standard gig – it’s an extravagant show where 6 musicians attempt to get away with as much mayhem as possible. The drums don’t seem loud enough? Not to worry, every time there’s a particularly heavy beat needed we’ll set off some fireworks or emit a thundering loud bang, complete with a shower of sparks. Some people in the crowd look a little cold, huddling together for warmth? Not to worry, let’s start spraying fire about the place with our hand-mounted flame throwers! – And so on. Every song is accompanied by an explosive blast or a burst of flame, which some cynics might feel seems kind of a gimmick, but in reality it adds to the experience and the music rather than detracting from it. During ‘Benzin’ a stuntman is set alight by Till and spends the remainder of the song dashing about in blazing inferno much to the amusement of the German frontman. Despite ‘Liebe Is Fur Alle Da’ only being released less than 4 months ago, the 9 tracks they play from it (this is after all, that album’s tour) are just as warmly received as older favourites and sung back at Till with passionate urgency. They’re scattered throughout the set, giving old fans a chance to hear their favourites, such as the regimented march of ‘Links 2-3-4’ the bottoming-out riff-a-thon of ‘Keine Lust’ and conflagration anthem, ‘Feuer Frei!’, which is a blazing inferno of pyrotechnics and blasts of industrial noise-metal. Diminutive keyboardist Flake undergoes a costume change halfway through, and emerges dressed in a skin-tight glittering catsuit and proceeds to spend the rest of their set playing his instrument, whilst walking on a treadmill like some camp-80’s spaceman.

The familiar rapid fire keyboard tapping that begins ‘Du Hast’ is like a call to arms. Fists are raised in a determined salute for what is the band’s signature song and vocalist Till is only too happy to oblige in letting the baiting crowd sing the words back to him. The indoor fireworks and explosion that zooms into the middle of the crowd (on a wire) is a nice touch, as is Flake’s journey into the middle of the arena via a rubber dingy (take note; proper crowd surfing). Of course, it wouldn’t be Rammstein without some giant phallus, and the liberal spraying of the front rows using a giant penis cannon brings the second biggest cheer of the evening. ‘Pussy‘ is yet another pleaser; it’s Jimmy-Pop-aping lyrics that cover the subject of intercourse in a mixture of German and English have the entire Arena screaming “YOU’VE GOT A PUSSY! I HAVE A DICK! SO WHAT’S THE PROBLEM? LET’S DO IT QUICK!” – On a side note, this is an excellent chat up line reserved only for those so desperate for sex with anything female who have just attended a Rammstein show. Of course, by excellent I mean ‘terrible’ and you’re more likely to get a new-rock (do metal girls still wear these?) in the bollocks than your bratwurst in some sauerkraut.  Not that I have tried. Ahem.

After a ticket-tape shower, (decked out in the red black and yellow colours of the German flag) and two fake encores later (‘Sonne’ finally makes an appearance, as does the chant-a-thon stomp that is ‘Ich Will’) Rammstein end their set with ‘Engel’. Vocalist Till descends beneath the stage to emerge clad in gigantic metal wings that of course, emit flaming jets from the tips, whilst fire leaps from the stage either side of him over the hail of whistling keyboards and precision tight drumming. As the final keyboard hum drones out, the 6 (and now topless) men of the greatest German metal band in the world bow and give humble thanks and depart – truly a majestic and glorious evening for music from one of, if not, the most impressive live acts on the planet. Next time I’ll bring some sausages.

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Links (TAH!)

Rammstein
Combichrist
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Words - Ross Macdonald
Picture – stolen from some metal forum