Showing posts with label Mathcore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mathcore. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Fall of Troy - Doppelgänger


            Conversation between musicians, no matter environment or circumstance, inevitably leads to one undying topic: the ability of other musicians. From there, that conversation takes the form of either praise or condescension, reminding me that judgment is an unavoidable aspect of art. One such conversation brought to my attention the band the Fall of Troy, as another musician offered accolades to their incredible skills. Intrigued, I decided to investigate, and picked up an album which firmly defined for me the difference between playing music and making music: Doppelgänger.
            One listen will assure you that composing Doppelgänger must have been a true feat of music; whether or not that composition is even worth that one listen is entirely more subjective. The sound presented here is extremely technical, relying on odd song structures, varying time signatures, and no small amount of forgiveness from the listener. There are quite a few moments when this trio really connects, producing songs and riffs that are catchy, energetic, exciting, and damn good—the first five tracks are laden with headbanging riffs and sing-along melodies that refuse to be ignored. Yet, for the most part, the composition of the music is so focused towards being an ear-opening piece that the Fall of Troy seems to have left out its humanity. The band’s attempt to create a unique and challenging style of music was certainly successful, but at the cost of their tunes sometimes having as much soul as dial tone.
            Whether or not the songs on Doppelgänger are audibly pleasing, no one can deny that the Fall of Troy is a unit of phenomenal musicians. In a review for Allmusic, Greg Prato remarks that these musicians “have obviously logged significant amounts of time ‘familiarizing’ themselves with their instruments,”[1] and indeed, these guys treat their instruments like extensions of the body. Thomas Erak doesn’t play his guitar—he wields it like a weapon. His style of switching between colorful chords and modal shredding is grounded by Tim Ward’s drawling bass and Andrew Forsman’s energetic drumming. Yet while all three members of the Fall of Troy certainly know their instruments, at times they seem to have trouble putting it all together in such complicated compositions. Throughout Doppelgänger are buried slight but noticeable tempo changes which seem more like chances for Tim and Andrew to catch up rather than musical choices. Furthermore, some riffs are so high-speed that the band is hard pressed to keep the tune from spiraling into chaos. Part of the reason for this lies perhaps in how guitar-centric the compositions are. With each listen, it becomes apparent that the driving force of this band—and thus its songs—is Erak. His guitar is spouting flames 98% of the time, with the bass and drums receiving no meaningful feature in any tune. Even the mix reflects this, as the guitar is blatantly louder than anything else on the record.
            Despite the bog of band relations and technical riffs that they’ve chosen to navigate, there are a few moments on Doppelgänger where the Fall of Troy really get it, producing a piece that is from the heart more so than the hands. One such piece is “You Got a Death Wish, Johnny Truant?” which packs enough soul to mark the Fall of Troy as a band with which to contend. The song starts off with an interesting and harmonious guitar riff before collapsing into a fast-paced melodic-punk onslaught. The band effortlessly switches time signatures in every verse without losing the groove they’ve established, while Erak and Ward toss us riff after danceable riff. Really driving this song, however, is the complex yet graceful drumming of Andrew Forsman, who pounds on each piece of his kit like a blacksmith. His percussion steers the feel of the song, taking it from brutal to bouncing without interrupting the flow or overriding the melody, marking him as a true rhythm-section man. Even the vocals exude energy and fun, the simple and sparse melody locking down this jam as a two-minute-masterpiece.
            “You Got a Death Wish, Johnny Truant?” is a simple and catchy tune, and thus an anomaly on the record. The musicality of Doppelgänger is complex to an extreme, which unfortunately causes other aspects of the tunes to suffer, especially in the vocal department. So much time and energy has been thrown into the music that the vocals and the lyrics accompanying them are little more than footnotes. With the exception of a chorus or two, every vocal part feels stuffed on top of this musical casserole, as Thomas and Tim scrounge for melodies to complement the audio hailstorm they've laid down. And while hard vocals might usually justify weak melodies, unfortunately for the Fall of Troy, whoever is screaming simply has no business screaming—the abnormally high range being explored makes the hard vocals more laughable than respectable, and kicks out the legs from any energetic excuse the band was relying on. Couple that with lyrics that universally fail to communicate a story or even connect with each other, and a massive connection point with the audience has been lost, to everyone's detriment.
            Though a lot on this record isn't working, the Fall of Troy has one thing going for it: Doppelgänger is interesting. The sound provided by this trio is certainly original, as they audaciously eschew musical conventions by pumping this record full of blue notes, modal changes, and harrying time signatures. Most songs deny any standard song structure, steering away from the mundane verse-chorus attitude for a more eclectic energy, a factor that, according to Scot Weber of AbsolutePunk, keeps the record from ever approaching a “cheesy and predictable”[2] feeling. Some songs even seem to be separated into small suites, where, to the band’s credit, riffs are given the room to evolve into something more than noise. Most notable is the last two minutes of “Act One, Scene One,” where the band takes a simple chord progression and, though rhythmic and dynamic changes, allows it to breathe and grow into the most beautiful part of the record.
            With Doppelgänger, the Fall of Troy shows itself as a band with potential and with a specific idea in mind. As a whole, this record has a voice unique unto itself, an achievement that cannot be taken lightly; yet few of the songs have enough strength or appeal to stand on their own. Doppelgänger testifies itself to the incredible musicianship of the Fall of Troy, while reminding us while art can be approached and dissected as a science, it cannot be felt as such.

Tunes to Check Out:
1) "You Got a Death Wish, Johnny Truant?"
2) Act One, Scene One
3) F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X.

ADDENDUM:
            During my research for this record, I came across a video interview which featured live footage of the band performing “‘You Got a Death Wish, Johnny Truant?’” The fact that these musicians are capable of reproducing flawless tunes night after night is a testament to both their skill and their commitment; furthermore, their performance lacks not at all for presence or energy. Erak's employment of a loop generator offers an interesting and unique approach to the live performance, as he is able to layer his guitar riffs for a fuller sound, as well as keep it going while he abandons his ax to join the crowd in a breakdown that is a brutal yet inviting whirlpool. This video makes it clear that the music on this record has potential, but when translating it from the stage to the CD, there are some things that fail to carry over.

Monday, January 7, 2013

The Contortionist - Exoplanet


            To someone who is not a musician, this record has a good chance of sounding like a mouthful of soulless terror. From beginning to end, the listener’s ears are stuffed with guttural screams, heavily distorted guitars, and rhythms that are almost impossible to dance to. However, such intensity is something that any worthwhile band (especially one delving into genres such as mathcore or death metal) must provide, and with Exoplanet, The Contortionist certainly delivers.
            Listening to Exoplanet is similar to listening to the rants of a mad scientist. The record is equal parts creativity and obsession, yet that creativity reflects both beauty and insanity, the obsession both harmony and cold savagery. For the most part, the sound can only be described as brutal, as the band shreds and chugs its way through low-tuned atrocities without relent. But counteracting this darkness is a catalog of fusion-jazz guitar riffs, clean vocal melodies, and beautifully structured sections of song, reflecting the wide range of musical influences cited by the band, a list including Porcupine Tree and Between the Buried & Me[i]. Such interposition of heavy and light allow for the songs to be very engaging without sacrificing any of the hard edges demanded by the style.
            One such example can be seen in the second song on the album. “Flourish” opens with exactly that, sweeping guitars and a 9/8 time-signature, before descending into an increasingly intense section of music. The song convinces you that it is another back-breakingly heavy artifice of pure metal, and then breaks off into an incredibly melodic and gentle bridge section. The music moves from cold to compassionate, carrying the listener on a lilting guitar melody, before inviting them back into the pit with a rephrasing of the song’s opening riffs. The seamless alternation of dynamics and energies in “Flourish” showcases this band’s ability to deftly switch between musical styles, making for a composition that is both aesthetically and intellectually pleasing.

            Exoplanet appears to be a thematic record, a chronicle divulged through music. This idea is expressed both lyrically and musically. Melodies and chord progressions are presented and then revisited repeatedly throughout the record. This is done no more beautifully than in the songs “Contact” and “Axiom.” In “Contact,” we are presented with an endearing moment of music in which soaring guitars playing in a 5/4 time signature are placed flush against a 4/4 drum beat. This same riff is then re-imagined through acoustic guitars and piano in “Axiom,” the pounding drums replaced by a tambourine, expressing a malleability of music that many artists find hard to explore.

            Musically, this record is as detailed as a Renaissance sculpture. Every single note seems to have been meticulously placed in flawless (although often dissonant) harmony with every other note, and the sheer amount of time-signature changes alone suggests that this band has put an immense amount of time into authoring their music. The Contortionist leaves absolutely no room for error in any of their compositions, showing that they are a band whose intention and execution are perfectly on par, and giving the listener a truly deep musical experience. However, it is also important to note that such musical technicality is a factor much more easily appreciated by musicians than non-musicians—the intensity of structure and atonality in songs like “Advent” and “Exoplanet II: Void” can just as much serve to alienate listeners as to draw them in.
            While this record is full of true and unique musical experiences, it also regrettably ends up encountering some the predictable pitfalls inherent in the genre. The level of technicality and precision in the writing on the record is of such magnitude that it can seem robotic: all intellect and no soul, and so fabricated that there is no room for the band’s humanity to shine through. Furthermore, much of the beauty of the writing is buried by the demands of the genre. For instance, the lyrics of the record are as well-crafted as the music, a narrative communicated through poetry, infused with existential and exotic themes ( “Contact” acts as a transcript of transmissions between two parties[ii]). However, because the style of music compels the screaming of most of these lyrics, invariably these words and all their meaning are completely overlooked. Such heavy vocals, while making a superb match to the brutal energy of the instrumentation, delete the emotion that might otherwise be imparted by intelligible lyrics or a sung melody.
            Ultimately, Exoplanet is a record built of relentless and exhaustive effort, and no one can say that The Contortionist has given anything less. It is an example of a group knowing exactly how it wants to sound, and relentlessly pursuing that idea. It bleeds power and cunning, standing as a monument to controlled chaos. The members of The Contortionist presents us with the simple and brutal truth of themselves, and if you can dig that, you risk nothing in giving them a listen.

Tunes to Check Out:
1) Flourish
2) Exoplanet I: Light
3) Contact