Nucleus Torn - Travellers and Andromeda Awaiting

Travellers

Early morning mist lingers over the calm oceans as we push our handmade wooden boat into the icy depths. We softly drag our oars through the placid aquatic field, pushing the water and the land behind us. We leave our homeland knowing full well that we may never see her again, that the families we leave behind may never lay eyes, lips, flesh to their husbands, brothers, and fathers again. Yet we steer our craft through the vast seas in search of trade partners in our material goods and our cultural ideas, and we are at peace with our decision to leave the comforts of home firmly nestled amongst the bosom of our Earth Mother. If we return to these shores, then it was meant to be.

I have no idea if that imagery was the intention of Nucleus Torn when they crafted the four-part acoustic epic “Krähenkönigin I – IV”, but that’s the feeling I got as I sat back in my office spinning the first part of the Travellers album. I’ve come to find out that the song title roughly translates to “Crows Queen” in English. The songs are seamlessly strung together and come across as if they were treatments or exercises for the classical guitar, and then they got morphed into a romantic acoustic instrumental piece of music. Coming from Prophecy Productions, I somewhat expected Travellers to be on the ambient side of the musical spectrum, but I also expected it to dip a big, gnarled ugly toe into the miasma of black metal. Those tendencies arise, but for the most part, this album is sparse of superfluous sounds and instrumentation. Amazingly, I never find the music of the first four songs tedious or boring . . . in actuality; I’ve often found myself leaning forward, on the edge of my chair waiting for the drama to explode before my ears. Alas, Nucleus Torn never jump all over your face like an enraged monkey, it’s more like they infuse tons of emotional drama through carefully thought out notes and exquisite tones. One minute, it’s easy to get lost paddling across the great plains of the oceanic landscape, the next minute find yourself trudging through some overgrown hillside, and through it all, you’re embracing nature, feeling the wind blowing across the skin, the sun pulling the moisture from your flesh, the rain dowsing the fires of hope that once roared within you. Bleak, but never depressing.

The opening four-part track is laden with so much imagery and emotion that I can’t help but want to load up my backpack and hike to Bakersfield (it’s not the end of the world, but I hear you can see it from there.) These tracks have more to do with classical and folk music than any black metal that I’ve ever heard, and I’m perfectly fine with that. As Travellers continues on, more hope and uplifting moments creep into the music. “Silver” is a beautiful quasi-classical romantic piece, also played on acoustic guitars . . . sounds like nylon string . . . and in its short, abbreviated manner, ushers us listeners into the next part of the musical journey . . . the darker, electric, and narrated portion of the program! “Witness” is a beautiful track that starts off mellow and somber, acoustic guitars accompany the morose vocals, and then the song ultimately opens up in volume and electric tension. This is a truly fine execution of song craft!

For the most part, Travellers is a Spartan and barren album. But that’s not to say that there isn’t tension built in the songs. It’s more of an organic and natural tension, though . . . made more impressive and imposing by the lack of studio effects. Almost like there’s something inherently spooky about that twisted tree outside your window that you’ve been begging Dad to chop down coz’ it casts those freakish shadows on your wall during a full moon. Rather than chop that sucker down, embrace its natural and creepy beauty, regale in its frightening aspects, and sleep fitfully through the night. Unless you starred in Poltergeist, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.

Buy here: Travellers
Buy here mp3: Travellers

Andromeda Awaiting

After listening to Travellers over and over and over again, I found myself spinning the follow up album, Andromeda Awaiting. This is where things get strange. I was somewhat expecting to hear a continuation of Travellers, and in some way, I guess you could say that’s what I got. But it’s not a continuation in the sense of lack of bombastic emotion, it’s more like a linear continuation . . . where the musical ideas are given more instrumentation, more texture to convey even greater breadth of emotion. Where Travellers is sparse in sound, Andromeda Awaiting is lush in sonic richness.

Broken up into six parts or chapters, Andromeda Awaiting is a strikingly gorgeous record. It gets a little proggy in a symphonic nature, and I find that to be perfectly perfect. The incorporation of the various woodwinds, horns, strings, voices . . . it all builds on top of one another to create a sparkling tower of sonic splendor. As for the underlying meaning of the album . . . no clue. I haven’t the foggiest notion as to what this album is about, and I don’t care. With this particular album, I’ve found myself listening purely for the emotion of sound, not keying in on any lyrics or potentially hidden meaning within the words. Throughout the record, I’ve found myself uplifted; other moments, I’m hunched over preparing myself to weep.

The “bookends” of the album, part I and VI, are the most dramatic, and also the longest portions of the program. Part I clocks in at over fifteen minutes and is like sitting in the cockpit of some interstellar spacecraft as it’s hurtling through the depths of the cosmos. Brilliant lights shows exploding into the visions, streaking stars criss-crossing the crafts path, all of the radiance from the heavenly bodies surrounding us acting as an exclamation as to how insignificantly small the human race truly is. The female vocals leading the first track feel so vulnerable and fragile, ready to crack at the slightest bump . . . and conveying an emotion of sad loneliness. The song weaves through some ethereal passages, ultimately falling into the lap of what I can only describe as choir music without the choir. The male voice that enters the song makes me feel like I’m sitting in a pew during a Catholic mass. It’s gorgeous and engaging, and oddly enough, makes me want to go to church once in awhile. The final chapter of the album is much like the first, sprawling and elegant in its instrumentation, always drawing some emotion from deep within. And sandwiched between these two songs are four tracks that take the listener on a journey that won’t be forgotten. In particular, I’m a big fan of the Middle Eastern modes that these guys use in the latter half of the album . . . every time I hear these tones, these particular scales, I get lost in the romantic world of my minds design.

Pope

Buy here: Andromeda Waiting

http://www.nucleustorn.ch/

http://www.prophecyproductions.de/front_content.php

My Own Private Alaska - Free CD Give-Away on The Ripple Effect Radio Show!

We have a special give-away scheduled on The Ripple Effect Radio Show on Wednesday, January 12^th at 8:00pm (PST). As the first show of the 2011, we wanted to try something new, so we’ve invited Yohan Hennequin, the drummer from French avant-garde art rockers My Own Private Alaska to join us and give us the latest and greatest on the band. We aim to find out what these guys have been up to since the release of Amen, find out if they're gonna' make it back to the U.S. anytime soon, and find out what makes these tortured souls so gloriously tortured!

On top of that, we have five copies of the bands critically-acclaimed album, Amen, that will be given away (Hey! We’re covering the shipping coz’ we love you that much!)

Details for the give-away will be given on the air . . . it’s really simple. Tune in by following the attached link, listen carefully to the instructions given on the air, and if you’re fleet of finger, you get a free CD! 

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/the-ripple-effect/2011/01/13/the-ripple-effect-1

Black Elk - Always A Six, Never A Nine

Since Racer and I have been doing this whole Ripple Effect blog thing and reviewing all of this great music that we’ve been discovering, there’s been this weird phenomenon going on where we’ll both receive a piece of music that we listen to once . . . twice . . . three hundred times and we know somehow, in some whacky way, said piece of music is one of the most important pieces of music that we’ve stumbled on. The problem is . . . we just don’t know what to say about it.

Sure, we could throw together a bunch of clever words that highlight our faux intelligence and have the reader reaching for a dictionary (faux means not real,) but that doesn’t necessarily tell you what the music is all about. We want you, oh dear reader, to go out and pick up these albums that we write about coz’ we want to share the excitement that we still find in music. So . . . enter Black Elk.

Black Elk’s album Always A Six, Never A Nine has been in and out of my player for something like two years. I feel a little bad because I’ve wanted to write this thing up all this time, but I knew that whatever I wrote wouldn’t be quite correct, wouldn’t be adequate enough. Always A Six, Never A Nine is an album that takes time to understand, even though I’m still not totally sure I do. But, I do finally feel that I’m in a place where I can at least throw together the right combination of words that best describes the music contained within to give you the best possible understanding of what you’re gonna get into when you buy this beasty-beast.

This album is defies categorization, however, it has elements of post-hardcore, noise, drone, doom, and several avant elements to boot. If you can imagine, Always A Six, Never A Nine would fall somewhere in the no man’s land between the primordial droning sludge riffery of Neurosis and the wildly eclectic avant garde sounds of We Insist! Black Elk has this way of lulling the listener into a state of complacency, carving out our existence and leaving a hollowed out husk, devoid of emotion and then . . . suddenly shoving all of the human elements and emotions into that mesmerized form, shocking our systems into a overly heightened sensitivity, and bringing us back to the immediate futility of our reality. The music has these great metallic moments, but is far from any metal I’ve ever heard. The music also has this great anti-everything attitude to it, but it’s not like any punk music I’ve ever heard. The music has a free form ambience and emotion to it, but it’s unlike any jazz that I’ve laid ears upon. Black Elk simply defy any standard musical categorization.

There are a few songs that I gravitate towards more than others, but the album as a whole is still a stunning experience. “Hospital” is downright killer! The songs opens with a bizarre guitar intro that is quickly accompanied by vocals that sound like they belong to someone strapped to a table with a leather strap shoved in their mouth. Maniacal and laced with paranoia, the vocals have an edge of all sorts of creepy . . . and the way they burst from dude’s mouth in time with the power and aggression of the music is a thing of cryptic beauty. The song has a deranged quality to it, but it’s not out of control. As the songs roils through a chaotic frenzy of heaviness, note the subtle bass lines juke and the warden of inmates. There’s an underlying melody that stands in striking contrast to the darkened lunatic outbursts. By the time the song fades into unconsciousness, odds are you’ll be a little winded and wondering what the hell just happened.

“Pig Crazy” follows along the same lines as “Hospital,” driven by throbbing and pulsating rhythms and highlighted by layers of feedback that creates an eerie texture to the overall sound. The vocals are tortured and frightening, almost like having a conversation with a schizophrenic . . . never knowing if this person is going to turn on us and use violence as some means to an end. The music on this one shifts between heavily distorted guitar riffing to quasi-psychedelic soundscapes, lending an even eerier element to the paranoid visions of the vocalist. This is one of those songs that acts like a sharpened instrument to carve out our being and quickly replaces everything for maximum emotional shock. I love the breakdown towards the end of the track when the guitars completely drop out of the mix and we’re left rumbling along with the bass and drums. That bass tone is thunderous and imposing, giving the listener the impression that something terrifying was lurking around the corner of the next time change. And, for certain, you want to walk down that darkened hallway with both eyes wide open!

“She Pulled Machete” is a drunken narrative about a chick with a machete. Plain and simple. But only Black Elk could pull off a song like this. I love the imagery in this one . . . it doesn’t take much to imagine a guy at some desert truck stop in New Mexico or Arizona, sitting in a Dodge Dart with a fifth of whiskey, sober enough to question what’s going on, but just drunk enough to sit in the dark trying to piece together the puzzle . . . and this all may not be how it plays out, but in my mind, dude’s gonna get chopped up into itsy-bitsy bits and left as coyote chum. Gotta’ love music that let’s your imagination run crazy like that! And damn . . . she sure is sexy!

Always A Six, Never A Nine is the hairy chest on a super model. It’s bizarre and beautiful, it’s unreal and fascinating . . . it’s art! Black Elk have created a monstrous epic of an album that’s haunting and horrifying, a mind fuck in so many ways . . . kind of like David Lynch at his freaky best. It defies logic, it defies reality, yet . . . at the same time, it captures reality in all of its imperfection. It’s an album of serene madness and chaotic elegance, a contrast in every conventional thought. It’s a nightmare choreographed to sound and custom made for each individual listener. I can’t listen to it at night in fear that it will awaken some ancient evil buried deep within my psyche. I must have more!  -  Pope  

buy here:  Always a Six, Never a Nine
Always A Six, Never A Nine (mp3)

www.blackelk.net

www.crucialblast.net/blackelk_alwaysasix.html

Melvins – The Bride Screamed Murder

Prior to hearing The Bride Screamed Murder from Melvins, I knew very little about the group. Now, after listening to The Bride Screamed Murder several times back to back to back, I know even less about them. I can say this, though . . . Melvins approach the creation of music unique to their own perspective, a perspective forged from the fires in the bellies of stars in solar systems light years away from what we may perceive as normal. That’s not to say that the music is unlistenable or so avant that it won’t fit into the average persons everyday scheme of minutia, its more akin to working a logic problem where the solution to the puzzle isn’t directly in front of you or obvious. Listening to Melvins made me rethink the way I think about music, challenged my perception of logical sound flow, dared me to push the envelope on what I thought I already knew (or was confused by) in music. This album really should come with a condom . . . the raping that my mind took has me in living in fear on how I will listen to the next album submissions.

“The Water Glass” kicks off with a ballsy, detuned guitar riff . . . all sludge-y and fat, oppressive and overwhelming . . . but it’s not the tonal quality that makes me rethink what I thought I already knew. No . . . no, that would be coming from the odd time signature of the riff and how the flourishes that drums add to the mix. Then, the washes of feedback bathe my ears in waves of septic brilliance, drenching my audio receptors with dense and sticky sound.  All of this happening within the first minute and half before seamlessly shifting into a wild high school marching band tirade of beats and vocal chants. Are you kidding me with this?!?!? In-freaking-sane! Leave it to Melvins to push music to the fringes of reality! The majority of this tune is bereft of any instruments outside of the drums and vocals, yet it remains one of the heaviest tracks that have assaulted my headset in months. What any of this has to do with a water glass is beyond, but I’m okay with that. I like the mystery. It gives me something to come back to during those future listens when I need to have my mind impregnated by fresh ideas.

“Evil New War God” is another burly, dense onslaught of sludge toned guitars . . . all playing this massive riff that doesn’t make logical sense to me. Just go with the flow, friends, and the happy conclusion will show itself in time. Listen for the majestic ball crushing riff at the 1:38 mark. Crom! That’s the kind of sludgery that makes me think of St. Vitus. A massive wall of distortion with the capability of deflecting the blast from a nuclear bomb. Note the little flourish of cowbell that these guys mix in there. Awesome! And the vocals . . . again, the sinister quality and paranoid menace permeates from between the flurry of dense notes that barrage the listener. And just to make sure you’re paying attention, the band drop this beast of a tune down to a quasi-jazz beat, cymbal ride, and soft bass drum pattern, before the eerie keyboards add some texture. This entire composition has more in common with jazz than hardcore or punk or metal or whatever genre people lump Melvins in these days. Absolutely spectacular song!

The Bride Screamed Murder is a roller coaster ride for certain, but Melvins have created a thrill ride that’s more than just senseless left turns and corkscrew loops. They’ve composed an epic listen by weaving bizarre nuances in between solid riffs and straight forward ass kicking. “Electric Flower” is one such song as it incorporates a pseudo- surf vibe with a five finger formed fist and a crushing blow to the bridge of the nose. Mixed in all of this chaos, the band still works in portions of magnificent musical performances that highlight the individualism of the musicians at hand. These guys have one of the busiest drummers in all the land. Tons of rolls, little cymbal flourishes, crazy fills that defy reason . . . simply mad! Listen for the guitar solo as it cuts through the din of frenetic chaos with a touch of class. So much going, so much emotion, so much sonic violence . . . and all within three and a half minutes.

Then, as it should come as no surprise, the band throws in a psychedelic track in “Hospital Up,” filled with weaving and shimmering guitar lines, all of it making me feel like I’m bathing in a lava lamp. The guitar tones aren’t as dense as some of their more straight forward rockers and heavy tunes, but there’s still an imposing vibe fluttering throughout all of the music. The vocals have a gritty crooning quality to them, almost reminding me of moments from Farflung (fantastic psychedelic stoner doom band) and I’m digging how the nuance within the voice conveys an element of manic paranoia. Again, the band work well together to create a song that would fall to pieces if it were performed by any other group of musicians. The individualistic qualities of the players shines on and I go back to my earlier ascertainment that Melvins are more of a jazz band than anything else. Hell . . . listen to the end of the tune when all hell is breaking loose. The keys . . . the bass . . . the horns . . . jazz.

Finally, strap your asses in and assume a crash position. “Inhumanity and Death” is a hundred mile an hour death trip down a winding one lane deer path through oncoming traffic. Don’t look up, just pray that you’ll make it to the bottom of the hill in one piece . . . and alive. The opening bass line and subsequent vocal scream is enough to fill the most seasoned thrill seeker with terror, and as the song careens to its conclusion, there will undoubtedly be soiled shorts amongst the riders. I stink now, but I’m smiling . . . and I’m happy.

Dudes . . . and Dudettes . . . I simply love The Bride Screamed Murder. I can’t tell you if Melvins as a whole area good band, but based on this album alone, I’d call them gods. The musicianship is insane and the musical perspective is refreshing. I don’t suggest diving into this one head first without any previous understanding of what these guys are about. Busy yourself with something on your initial listen to familiarize yourself with the aural assault that is wrapped up in this disc before completely immersing yourself in the music. Once you do go back to giving it your full attention, it won’t hurt as much . . . well, at least, it shouldn’t. The Bride Screamed Murder is a brilliant execution of avant jazz metal that will surprise you every time you listen to it.  -  Pope

buy here: Bride Screamed Murder

www.myspace.com/themelvins

www,melvins.com

3 - The End Is Begun

There are two schools of modern prog-rock out there. There’s the Look-Mom-I-can-play-more-notes-than-should-be-humanly-possible-and-I’ve-left-my-soul-at-the-door-in-the-process institution that just leaves me scratching my head in wonder. Kinda’ like those folk who do mind boggling math problems to relax. I don’t get it. Then there’s the school of prog that relies more on complex composition and involved ideas while retaining a sense of melody. Both schools can be pretentious as all hell, of that there’s no doubt. But the latter, generally speaking, has a bit more soul to it . . . is a more organic form of prog, if you will, and in some ways feels more natural for my primitive ears. So, I find myself leaning more towards melodic song-craft of Pink Floyd, Porcupine Tree, Riverside . . . and now, the band 3.

I had never heard of 3 prior to getting word through the grapevine that they were tapped to hold down the opening slot for the Porcupine Tree tour a couple of years back. This, of course, right in the middle of my phase where I thought every note, every breath uttered by Steven Wilson was genius, so if he was going to personally endorse a band, well by Lemmy’s mole(s) . . . said band must be brilliant! And 3 are just that . . . brilliant, but not in the way that I had expected. I picked up The End Is Begun with the mindset that 3 were going to be the second or third . . . maybe fourth coming of the mighty Tree, but the whole thing didn’t really go over like that. In fact, The End Is Begun kinda’ landed with a hollow thud to my expectations. However, it was the subsequent listening parties that had me realize that musically, the album is remarkable, filled with some of the catchiest melodies this side of Simon & Garfunkel, and the compositions are anything but simplistic . . . this album fits nicely with those avant prog albums in your collection . . . and it has elements of heavy metal that will have you unconsciously throwing the horns in the air, waving them around like you just don’t care.

First off, singer/guitarist Joey Eppard has one of the more unique and instantly recognizable voices I’ve ever heard. His voice is light and airy, yet strong . . . strong without being gruff and aggressive, and it matches up with the music perfectly. Not too heavy, not too light . . . just right. Where “The Word is Born of Flame” comes across as more of an intro to the album, the title track is the first song that we get to hear the band in full flight. Opening with a stunningly acoustic guitar strum fest, accompanied by some distorted guitars, ethereal keys humming in the background, and beat that will have you bobbing your head, “The End Is Begun” is a lesson in both composition and performance. Each member of 3 attacks their individual part, providing some fascinating points of interest, all while keeping the song moving. The musicians provide splashes color to the piece that enhance the song rather than bury it in senseless notes. They never take away from the mood of the song, creating that perfect balance of skill and soul. The riff is heavy and grooving, the arrangement is heady and unpredictable, the vocals are filled with melody . . . maybe a little operatic and over the top at times, but it works to the desired effect. Stunning tune!

“All That Remains” is a beaut! There is so much going on within the music of this track that it’s hard to pinpoint what’s happening, what the song is all about, what room I’m even sitting in . . . epic! The music has so much texture to it, pulling in tones and scale runs that remind me of Queen, vocals that life the spirit through their quality of tone and the melody that they’re delivered in. The guitar work on this tune is amazing, soaring solos and distorted textural riffs over clean arpeggios create this wild and complex sounding passage that will have your ears trying to pick out the various notes from the various instruments . . . like watching a swarm of butterfly dip, dive, zig, zag, and weave through a lush grassland. And, if you’re not singing the chorus by the end of the song, you’re simply dead inside!

Put your seat belts on for “My Divided Falling” as this song bursts out of the gates with Eppard’s bizarre slap style guitar playing and builds with intensity from there. The accents drum and cymbal crashes, the explosive bursts of bass and guitar notes, all working in conjunction to give the song a streak of nasty. To make things even more intense with this track, so much of it is in some weird time signature; for part of it sounds like 4/4, but then goes off into something that requires greater division of fractions. The most amazing part? There’s still an unforgettable melody to the whole thing! Heavy as a fully loaded cement truck, complex as a strand of DNA, and unforgettably melodic at the same time . . . who does that?

Arguably the most intriguing song on the album is “Serpents in Disguise.” Highly technical dramatics performed in the context of a poppy rock song, beautiful melodies mixed with elements of heavy metal and progressively complex arrangements. I love listening to this one through headphones . . . in that little world I can more clearly hear the musical nuances like the bass notes sliding up and down the neck, the pinched harmonics from the distorted guitars, the clean toned arpeggios from the acoustic guitars, the distinct cracks in the vocals . . . all these quaint elements that alone may not mean so much, but played in the context of the song, add so much flavor.

Admittedly, it took me awhile longer to get into The End Is Begun than most albums, and I really don’t know why that is. Maybe it was one of those wrong album for the wrong time moments, but it certainly didn’t have anything to do with the quality of the music. The more I listen to this disc, the more I find myself breaking down the individual performances, the various segments of the song, dissecting every little piece and passage of the music like some weird and maniacal biologist cuts into a lab frog. 3 is much more than a number in my mind. 3 is band of the highest order . . . a band that marches to their own beat, masterful at their individual instruments, creates music that is peculiar to most, and takes up residence in some deep, dark recess of their own collective mind. Avant garde is the best way to describe their sound. Heavy in progressive rock elements, but not so over the head that it wouldn’t appeal to the masses . . . and vice versa.  -  Pope JTE

Buy here:  The End Is Begun

http://www.theband3.com/

http://www.myspace.com/officialbandthree

Diablo Swing Orchestra – Sing Along Songs for the Damned & Delirious

The steps leading up to the dark and decrepit mansion are damp from evening moisture and the fog sends goose pimples across the flesh. One tentative footstep in front of the next, you and your company approach the heavy wooden door, and you hear the wooden wheels of your horse drawn coach rattling eerily against the cobblestone drive as it hurriedly races away from this ghoulish structure. As your hand grasps the bronze door knocker, you feel its cool texture against your palm, yet there’s something else. A deeper vibration rumbling through the cold metal courses through your nerves, further embellishing the goose pimples brought on by the exterior chill. Before you’re able to swing the knocker to announce your arrival, the door slowly creaks inward to a foyer coated with two decades worth of dust, cobwebs hang from every surface, half burnt candles softly flicker within the wall sconces; chasing sinister shadows deeper into the gloom of the darkened mansion, and a massive blast of sound erupts with a defined rhythm.

Deeper within the gloom, figures can be seen writhing in time with the sounds of some distant band. The light in the great hall is cast in hues of crimson as you make your way deeper into the throng of gyrating souls, and you quickly glance around to see chandeliers swaying precariously from the ceiling, shadowy figures skirting along the open balconies, masked revelers passing drinks and whispered words between each other, and the smell of brimstone and death assails the senses. At the far end of the hall, as if belched from the bowels of hell itself, you finally see it . . . but you can’t believe your eyes. A colorfully garbed group of musicians assail chaos upon their instruments, a cacophony of sound set to an oppressive tone, conjuring up some dark magic that leaves the gatherings patrons in a state of frenzied mindlessness!

One part opera, one part jazz, another part metal, another part Hell’s very own marching band, all of it avant garde, this is Diablo Swing Orchestra . . . and they’re performing tracks from their latest album, Sing Along Songs for the Damned & Delirious.

Opening the set with “A Tap Dancer’s Dilemma,” Diablo Swing Orchestra quickly shows the revelers why they are one of the more interesting musical units banging around the countryside. It’s a song filled with so many huge musical movements that I’m sure I’ll pass over more than a handful in describing the epic piece of sonic art. The opening drum salvo and subsequent groove of bass with accompanying horn section capture the swing in the band’s name. Add the huge walls of distorted guitars and the harmonizing female vocals, and this song captures the imagination by transporting the listener to some deep dark corner, the seediest of the seedy jazz clubs of the 1940’s. The composition of this track is absolutely, hands down, one of the most impressive and compelling pieces that I’ve ever listened to. I mean, listen to how the band seamlessly shifts from over dramatic male vocal performances, to harmonized female vocals, dropping all of the instrumentation out of the mix and leaving the guitar, acoustic nonetheless, hanging for a brief, yet brilliant moment, then dropping the instrumentation again to leave the bass guitars to deftly reach out and grab all of the instruments back into the fold. Listen for the fantastic guitar solo being played over the more subtle jazz rhythms, and then how the guitar fades out, leaving nothing but bass rumbling its groove. The incorporation of the various instruments leaves me breathless. How in God’s name did they patch this bad boy together and make the whole thing work?

And, it’s not just the first track on the album. Diablo Swing Orchestra creates and re-creates this same musical effect on all ten tracks gracing Sing Along Songs. “A Rancid Romance” starts off with a classically distorted wall of guitars powering out the rhythms in time with the fabulously produced drums. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the triumphant strains of a trumpet screams through the din, providing a bit of a Latin flair to the music. And then another trumpet harmonizes with the first . . . and then the operatic vocals of Annlouice Wolgers (?) in duet with guitarist/vocalist, Daniel Hakansson . . . and then the emergence of the cello providing an air of macabre . . . and then the dual vocal harmonies at the chorus creating an overwhelming sense of panic . . . and then horns again . . . It’s a psychotic journey of paranoia and superb musicianship. Owing as much to classical music as modern metal, Diablo Swing Orchestra have created a sound that is clearly their own. It’s refreshing to hear a new and unique, and utterly compelling voice in the world of music!

“Lucy Fears the Morning Star” moves the tale of Diablo Swing Orchestra along at a clip nearing light speed. One of the more chilling and haunting tracks off of the album, “Lucy,” features a heavy dose of Annlouice’s operatic pipes, some intricate and outstanding drum work from Andreas Halvardsson. The cello work, performed by Johannes Bergion, comes from some dastardly place, deep within a seeping crevice of ooze and gore. It’s absolutely brilliant! The tones Bergion brings out of the instrument conjure up images of torment souls as they dance an eternal dance of despair. The low end, provided by bassist Andy Johansson, creeps along the songs like low lying fog. It’s always there, camouflaging the ground making each step we take along this musical journey an uncertain one. By the end of the song, we’ve gone from chilling pseudo-opera to full on Latin swing . . . the band brings in a barrage of polyrhythm’s that work perfectly with the full fledged assault of horns. Man! What an amazing journey!

Folks . . . buy this album. Don’t wait until the end of this review. There’s no need. All I’m gonna’ do is summarize a few things.

Diablo Swing Orchestra are beyond anything that words can describe. At one point, while listening to Sing Along Songs for the Damned & Delirious, I openly questioned to no one in particular if these guys were for real. Thankfully, I didn’t get a response, but after repeated listeners, and let me tell you . . . this album has been non-stop for the past week and a half, it apparent that Diablo Swing Orchestra are the real deal, they have no peers, and they will have your full attention with every note struck. If you like your music complex, filled with dynamic tempo shifts, or dramatic breaks in sound, then this album will be your Holy Grail, your Ark of the Covenant, your Spear of Destiny. The music moves and never seems to let up. Even when the musical passages begin to soften, you just know that something terrifying is gonna’ pop out of the darkness to strip you of your sanity. You’ll have to excuse me now . . . there’s a party at some creepy mansion that I need to get back to . . . - Pope JTE

Buy here: Sing-Along Songs for the Damned & Delirious


www.myspace.com/diabloswingorchestra

http://www.diabloswing.com/