A band with no past is not necessarily a band without a future. But a band which doesn’t look at the future is surely one which lives in the past. With regards to the present, if you title your album Sepulchral Torment and you play old-school death metal, well, there is apparently not much to be said. Rex Shachath is a band with a good hand playing an old game not many people appreciate anymore, but it does it with style and you can’t help but recognise it.
Deep inside we knew we were still due something. From Bliss to Devastation kept on resurfacing from the depths of our dusty, imaginary shelves lost somewhere in our memory. The years following Vision of Disorder’s (VOD) split in 2002 saw them being held responsible (together with a bunch of other bands) for the birth and growth of nü metal; a genre which overstayed its welcome far longer than it took it to express itself in a constructive manner. If it wasn’t all bad, that was probably because the seeds had been sown by bands like Faith No More, Tool and Rage against the Machine… and Vision of Disorder.
Alex is back to compare shoegazey black metal with The Cure and he even uses the word “impetuosity.” Obviously, this is a MUST read.
It looks as if they were all wrong. For years, critics of all sorts have assumed that punk could not, and would not mix up with the likes of those who thought that the light at the end of the tunnel is a truck coming in their direction. I mean, the nihilist stance of bands such as The Sex Pistols and Discharge, their “new luddism,” aimed at destroying and denying progress for the lack of an acceptable alternative, undeniably struck a chord in the goth camp. But, if destruction would act as a unifier, the means to achieve it were indeed on the opposite ends of the spectrum. The passive, almost fatalistic melancholy of goth clashed (sometimes in more that one way) with the actively destructive attitude of punk. Could we ever imagine that a synthesis would have been possible? Not until 45 Grave and deathrock came about in the early 1980s. Fast-forward to 2012 and what we find is a band that combines Joy Division, Christian Death and Refused. The good news is that it does it terribly well. The bad news? Well, this time there isn’t any. Simply because a band that tries to add something to the menu can’t fail. And if it does it with such angst and power, then it means that there’s still hope for angry music in this world.
Xibalbá is the name of the Mayan underworld: not exactly a nice place, it must be said. A cave next to Alta Verapaz, somewhere in central Guatemala, is the entry to this domain whose hottest places, to quote none other than Dante Alighieri, “are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.” If there’s a circle which refuses to stay neutral in favour of a purely negative stance, it’s a band from Southern California whose name, doom and gloom take us straight to the Mayan idea of hell.
Sludge is not what it used to be. In the 90s, bands would swarm like filthy locusts from New Orleans to bring the density of the bayou, its mud, and its endless drapes of sticky moss to a world living in denial and feasting its way to the end of the century. Happy days. In the meantime, a lot has changed: a new era has dawned on us and things have gone wrong in every possible way, but that strain of extreme music is still there to remind us that, well, things could get even worse. And when they do, it’s bands like Clinging to the Trees of a Forest Fire who provide the soundtrack.
