Across music history, there are scattered acts that never got the mainstream attention that they deserved, but they influenced legions of bands.
Bands like The Velvet Underground, of which it was once said, “[they] didn’t sell many records, but everyone who bought one went out and started a band.”
Among slow, lurching metallurgists, few bands are is influential as the Melvins.
After the crushing gorgeousness of Quietly, Mouth of the Architect got busy. Despite lineup changes, the band toured Europe, recorded EPs, and headlined a few festivals.
Then the group returned to the Midwest to record their fourth full-length, Dawning. But in comparison to Quietly’s thick, relentless avalanche of atmospheric noise, this record spends much more time flexing their melodic chops.
They say that you should never judge a book by its cover. That goes double for records.
Because if you were to look at the pastoral winter scene, gentle cursive text, and whimsical animal illustrations on the inside gatefold, you might think this would sound like a gorgeous, twee-folk Bon Iver clone.
And while this record certainly is gorgeous, it’s beauty comes through Mouth of the Architect’s particular brand of crushing sludge metal heaviness.
When I first heard Astronoid’s debut record Air, I was spellbound. Their particular brand of genre-bending heavy metal (which they call “dream thrash”) had all of the punishing heaviness of traditional thrash but with an tender, life-affirming heart. It’s blast beats and hairspray-soaked guitar solos were paired with dreamy melodies and anthemic harmonies.
But knowing that lightning rarely strikes the same place twice, I was a little apprehensive when I saw they were releasing a new record. Could the gimmick really pay off again?
The answer is, “yes, and handsomely.”
If you’ve been following along at all, you’ve probably noticed that I have a deep love for weird metal. Particularly, heavy metal that looses itself from the macho tropes that have conventionally marred metal music and stretches beyond the rigid confines of the genre. Bands like Alcest, Deafheaven, Isis, Spotlights…the list goes on.
The Boston outfit Astronoid hits every single one of those buttons—and then some.
Black metal has been undergoing a bit of a revolution in the last few years. Bands like Deafheaven, Wolves in the Throne Room, and Lantlôs have been augmenting their metal chops with elements of post rock and shoegaze. It’s a simple formula, but surprisingly effective.
But at the forefront of the “blackgaze” movement is a French group called Alcest, who wrote much of the blueprint on their breakthrough record Écailles de lune.
In all of my examinations of the nerdiest aspects of music critique, I have never found a band with a more convoluted creative arc than Cave In.
I was first exposed to the group a few years ago when I picked up White Silence in a lot of records that I bought to flip. It was an angular, abrasive piece of experimental metalcore that I was not into at all. I dismissed them as a band I just wasn’t into, and that was that.
Then a few weeks ago, a friend recommended Antenna, their major label breakthrough that blended alternative metal and space rock to make something that my friend described as “Deftones meets Sunny Day Real Estate.” After hearing the contrast, I delved deep into their discography to try to figure out what exactly happened.
Let’s set the scene.
It’s the year 2000. I’m a thirteen-year-old kid. I’ve just started to get into music, mostly through pop punk and ska. But at the same time, I’m coming to grips with how heavy the world can be.
Then, on a Thanksgiving trip to California, I stumbled upon Hybrid Theory by Linkin Park.
I’m an absolute sucker for blackgaze.
On paper, it might seem like black metal, post rock, and shoegaze are a strange mixture. The three genres share a fascination with ambient textures and heart-rending emotion, but they take wildly different paths to get there.
Blackgaze splits the difference, and manages to capture every good bit of each—and then some. Continue reading
Every once in a while, I’ll hear a record that ushers me into new revelations, that shift my musical center within the moments of the first song.
Albums like Sunbather, Panopticon, and Palms self-titled album.
Melting Sun as firmly among them.
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