Stretch Arm Strong - "Rituals of Life"

South Carolina has, to my knowledge, three redeeming qualities: Charleston, a fine Old South coastal town with an abundant and drool-worthy female population, the Cooper River Bridge Run, and low country cookin'; a population of "The South will rise again" creed-carriers, themselves droolers, so numerous that tears of laughter suppress the anti-bigot's naturally resulting nausea; and posicore progenitors Stretch Arm Strong.

SAS's 1999 masterpiece, Rituals of Life, is a slab of awesome. Opening with picked acoustic guitar, the momentary calm crumbles in a crash, all fist pumps and flailing bodies from then on. Rituals is rife with burly riffs and momentous breakdowns that barely break tempo, conducive to circle pits and maniacal stage diving, flips and all. There's nothing showy about SAS, simply consistency and passion, the pinnacle of sing-and-sweat-along hardcore. I don't blush a bit when vocalist Chris McLane scrapes his bowels to punish the mic, "Don't you know you are MY EVERYTHING, don't you know you make MY HEART SING!"

Supplemented by the exceptional A Revolution Transmission, the duo comprise the bulk of the SAS's raucous, pile-on driven live sets. These experiences banish popular notions of intensity to Candyland in a flurry of cross-stage sprints, spins, and glorious jump kicks.

What SAS won't need to capture your interest: "Second Chances"

Pibba's First Commandment: Buy Rituals of Life from Solid State.

Yakuza "Transmutations"

I'm getting really tired of writing about music that has to come with a "lacks originality" warning, so I'm challenging myself today with Yakuza's somewhat mind-fucking but intriguing Transmutations.

But where do I start? The pronounced saxephone parts and jazz influences? The explosions of thrashy, chaotic metal? The gloomy, Isis-inspired, ethereal atmospheres? The slow, tense buildups? I don't know. Yakuza is downright ambitious, and it's near impossible to nail down their sound with a single term. Call it progressive metal, post-metal, avant gard or whatever you will; Transmutations basically has it all and, for my money, is more interesting than the numerous post-something bands following the exact footsteps of Isis.

The broad transitions between sheer intensity and somber restraint remind me of the underrated Buried Inside, but Yakuza's moods and atmospheres are distinctly powerful. When I play this record at work on a pair of headphones, it's pretty close to being warped into a world where the sun never breaks through a thick cloud cover and a depressed populace wanders around staring at the ground. And when the hoarse, clean singing morphs into screaming and the drumming explodes with metallic energy (think Mastodon), it's like seeing that populace start furiously beating one another with a zombie's rage. Maybe I've been watching too much television or I'm crazy, but I picture stuff when I listen to Transmutations.

"See" stuff for yourself: Yakuza - Egocide

The record lasts an expansive hour and is hit-or-miss, so it's tough to make it through in one sitting, but it definitely tries to stay interesting and the jazzy instrumentation adds a much appreciated (and surprisingly natural) depth.

Through the Eyes of the Dead "Malice"

I'm not too familiar with Through the Eyes of the Dead's back catalog, which consists of an EP, a split and a full length that didn't do much for me, but I can already tell that I care a lot more about their latest outpouring of death metal and metalcore, Malice. Instead of being a really moving or touching record, it's a friggin' relentless and precisely executed storm of thrashy and technical guitar riffs, speedy and seriously double bass-obsessed drumming, and intimidatingly forceful screams. Singer Nate Johnson -- you might know him from his stints in Premonitions of War and the short-lived Deadwater Drowning -- is the band's newest member, and probably one of the record's saving graces. He's all balls, bringing actual enthusiasm and rage to a genre that, in my mind, tends to lack vocal character.

While it's the fast, metallic finesse that characterizes Malice, there's no shortage of straightforward, chunky death metal and pit-friendly breakdowns -- most people will be quick to chalk this one up as "deathcore." "Welcome to the Wasteland" is an especially brutal track, often killing the speed in favor of mid-paced tempos and crunchy, chug-oriented riffs. It's simpler, but no less effective; Through the Eyes of the Dead brings the intensity whether they're playing fast or (relatively) slow.

With traces of guitar melody scattered throughout the record, Malice is, in the end, a pretty lean and skillfully written cross between straight death metal and metalcore. It isn't a life changer and the purists, well... They'll hate it. But a purist I am not.

Feel that double bass: Through the Eyes of the Dead - Welcome to the Wasteland

Snag this one from Smartpunk.

The Fire The Flood & The Minor Times

Lately, I've been hearing quite a few relatively young bands who are carrying on -- some with far greater savvy and comfort than others -- the legacy of Botch, Coalesce and the like. While The Fire The Flood and The Minor Times could both fall into that category, they play similarly rooted music in two very different ways.

The Fire The Flood's sound is centered on muddy, mid-paced metallic hardcore, and built with a consistent mix of churning, mangled guitar riffs, groove-heavy rhythms and garbled, mid-ranged screams. Yeah, the band's full-length debut, Truth Seekers, sounds pretty damn similar to a Coalesce record and might offend some purists (especially with its superfluous chugging breakdowns), but that's better than sounding damn similar to a Norma Jean record (not that there aren't similarities). The songs are tastefully concise, usually wrapping up within two minutes, and packed with enough riffs, tempos and noise to create some urgency and force. The Fire The Flood's straightforward delivery makes up for the lack of originality and is surprisingly convincing.

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The Minor Times, on the other hand, favors a more angular and meandering approach to groove-heavy, densely calculated metallic hardcore. (As in, they sound more like Botch.) It's more complicated and far more expansive, too, but it never gets so chaotic or busy or over the top that it lands in technical metal territory. As often as The Minor Times slips into jarring, chunky heaviness, they explore more expansive atmospheric sounds, mid-paced passages with twisting and turning strings of guitar notes, and rhythmic patterns that are beyond mediocre musicians. If nothing else, there's an intrigue behind the way the band successfully pieces together parts that seemingly don't blend. Plus, Brendan McAndrew's gruff, throaty screaming is awesome -- I swear I can feel it from time to time -- so there's a sense of intensity carrying through all of Summer of Wolves. This record has been a grower for me; the songs are more effective and memorable after four or five listens.

We can't call either band the originator or innovator of their chosen style, but both are worth a chance:

The Fire The Flood - Turmoil at the Gates of Heaven
The Minor Times - Casket City Lights

Get Truth Seekers here, and Summer of Wolves here.

Blood Has Been Shed "Spirals"

It's amazing this review is in any way coherent, not just a jumble of lkjij fwecsl asdwe, because I'm definitely targeting keys with closed fists (headbutts for spaces). If the NFL mimicked the NBA and played music during its games, Spirals would immediately propel punters -- hell, even me, babies and flowers, the entire catalogue of the hilariously unintimidating -- to Sean "Lights Out" Merriman status. I wouldn't poke, prod, or otherwise provoke Stephen Hawking if he had access to this album.

Calling Spirals heavy is like calling cancer an inconvenience, and Blood Has Been Shed might've been created solely to allow Howard Jones to fulfill his psychotic screaming quota, because Killswitch Engage obviously isn't meeting his needs. Though glimpses of his beautiful clean vocals and bits of melodic guitar work are sprinkled throughout this 2003 release, everything else is paradoxical harmonious-destruction, a fourteen track mosh-marathon that recalls a neatly organized plane-train wreck. There are two questionable tracks of windchimes, tings and tinks, but they're probably part of a cruel but clever joke: to trick the subjects of random Spirals-inspired pummelings, in their fleeting moments of consciousness, with glimpses of hope, in reality allowing their man-turned-monster attacker to recharge his punches and, if he's sufficiently sadistic, to accessorize his raw-to-the-bone knuckles with gravel or broken glass.

Before listening to this album, I fervently rejected the suggestion that music (or other media) could inspire or incite violence. Now, honestly, I'd barely feel safe knowing each copy of Spirals came packaged with an ambulance and full EMS team. If Blood Has Been Shed ever tours my city, I hope they have the decency to play the hospital.

But, yeah, before my computer short-circuits from the blood pouring from my knuckles: good album.

Unless you're already in a padded cell, fit yourself with a straightjacket: Blood Has Been Shed - "Greetings From The Gallows"

Pick it up from Ferret Records.

Four Year Strong "Rise or Die Trying"

Take a whole lot of Set Your Goals and New Found Glory, toss in some bouncy, moog-infested power-pop and Taking Back Sunday-inspired sing-alongs, and you've uncovered the not-so-secret recipe to Four Year Strong's ultra-poppy, sort-of-edgy melodic punk/hardcore hybrid. Big old sugary vocal melodies absolutely cover each song and establish Rise or Die Trying as memorable for its catchiness, while double bass-y breakdowns attempt to fill in the group's (shallow) heavy side. To be honest, the entire record feels like a gimmick because it's so intentionally hooky and, for all practical purposes, an amalgamation of a bunch of other pop-punk and melodic hardcore bands' work. But, fuck it; I'm already in a better mood since I popped the record in and started writing this entry. These guys are far, far from being the next Set Your Goals, so don't expect anything that good. Just look for 11 songs of confident pop-punk with splashes of melodic hardcore.

Last-minute summer fun: Four Year Strong - Heroes Get Remembered Legends Never Die

Pick it up from Interpunk. Maybe, just maybe you'll get a free t-shirt! Wow!

Sons of Azrael "The Conjuration Of Vengeance"

I know, I know. There's really no need for Sons of Azrael when the world's already got The Black Dahlia Murder, At the Gates and those bands' hordes of clones. I wouldn't ever tell someone that they need The Conjuration Of Vengeance, but it's not bad. Actually, it's better than what most of the American melodic death metal/metalcore scene produces. Sure, there's no originality to the band's movements, which mostly consist of transitions between high-speed metal and chunky, mosh-oriented metalcore, and between raspy screams and deep growls, but it's got a recording quality that my car stereo loves and an energy that keeps me entertained. It's probably metalcore newcomers who'll really get into this and, while that isn't me, I don't mind what I hear (except the cheeseball lyrics).

If you haven't already been drilled with enough metalcore, check this out: Sons of Azrael - Scent of a Dead Whore

Buy yourself some more metalcore here if you need it.

The Devil Wears Prada "Plagues"

Man, I don't like myself for kind-of-sort-of-almost enjoying Plagues. I mean, it's so painfully obvious that The Devil Wears Prada is just riding a bunch of contemporary trends, writing metalcore for a youthful crowd that brings the brutal mosh (hence the constant barrage of breakdowns and death metal leanings) so hard that they need just as much clean, whiney singing, relaxed tempos and piano parts to keep from exploding. Yeah, Plagues is another conflicted mish-mash of chug-laden, melodic death-inspired metalcore and pristine "screamo." It's not all that poorly written, though, and the band at least tries to be a little ambitious with their almost-authentic metal, overdramatic synth parts and strong, bold melodies. If Plagues didn't simply fall into my music collection, I'd probably never listen to it, but it's not as bad as I had expected. And I still dig chug-a-luggin' breakdowns, which this has in spades.

Give 'em a few years to work on the keyboards, smooth out the transitions and maybe turn a few mosh parts into real substance, and there could be something there. Hey, they're young.

Listen, maybe with a grain of salt: The Devil Wears Prada - This Song Is Called

You can grab the album from Interpunk.

Empires "Through Trial & Tribulation Comes Triumph

This is another write-up from longtime contributor Andrew Faust. Check it:

When you think of music, you normally think that the message being conveyed consists of words and lyrics, in addition to sounds. Normally you would, at least in part, paint your own picture of what the artist is speaking, screaming, growling or singing. Such is not the case with the recent influx of instrumental bands, who leave the pictures more open for interpretation but often wind up sending the message, "hey, we can play music!" or "hey, we couldn't find a singer in time for this recording." Not Minneapolis's Empires, a sonic experience that sends vivid imagery of life and style through listeners' minds.

This band has been around for a while but on a very small level. As such, this effort is not only exciting and highly anticipated but overall a fantastic debut and a sign of good things to come. Empires plays a melodic and doom-y take on instrumental music, in the vein of Jesu or Explosions In The Sky. Their songs might average six minutes or more, but they've got me excited and willing to listen through the whole, expansive tracks. Pulling that off, Empires may have transcended one of this genre's most annoying aspects -- parts of songs that often just don't fit and effectively take up time. Empires doesn't slow down and takethree-minute breaks of drudgery in the middle of their songs. When they write songs, they only build them up; they never look back, adding and modifying great riffs that match into each song. Each song even paints a dark, moody picture, helping listeners feel emotional highs and lows.

This album clocks in around forty-three or forty-four minutes. Although that might seem long for a six-song full length, I say fuck that. Empires inspires listeners to stay attuned. If you ever want to be under the influence and listen to something that will give your neck a good workout, get fucked up and throw this into the mix. A solid effort, if not the best album of this genre I have heard in a long, long time. I can only hope the young masterminds behind Empires stay motivated enough to bless us with another effort sometime in the future.

Listen: Empires - Climbing Towards the Infinite

And support these Minnesota instrumental rockers.

Birds of Avalon "Bazaar, Bazaar"

Riding a wave of psychedelia more commonly associated with stoner capital Asheville, NC, Raleigh statemates Birds of Avalon have pieced together a rockin' kaleidoscope of sound. Swaying between Door's-y mystical entrancement, the curling, meandering guitar work of hallucination, and a classic metal attack sometimes reminiscent of Deep Purple, Birds of Avalon's debut, Bazaar Bazaar, is a work of shimmering color.

The tunes melt and materialize around omniharmonious vocals that range from cryptic chanting ("Lost Pages from the Robot Repair Manual") to rockstar howling ("Horse Called Dust"); the vocal inflections showcased within Bazaar, Bazaar match, perhaps surpass, the impressive arsenal of The Shins' James Russell Mercer.

Bazaar, Bazaar's prevalent folk and blues (and drug culture?) influences imbue the music with uncommon diversity, and an extensive cast of instruments are sprinkled throughout. Undercurrents of live show improvisation and acid trip noodling are pared down to manageable bursts, alienating neither the ADD nor stoner crowds, packing more into three and four minute songs than shitty jam bands and pretentious wanker-rockers do in ten.

Bazaar, Bazaar hovers above the heap of sub-genres, positioned amongst the finest Rock releases in recent memory.

Rock 'n' ride a "Horse Called Dust"

Snag this gem from Volcom Entertainment

Thieves and Assassins "Martyr Brigade"

Much like an endless stream of sex-goddesses gleefully entering into the hardcore manifestation of male fantasy, my ideal world will never see too many superlative, conscientious melodic hardcore bands.

Residing near Strike Anywhere thematically, and coupling their Long Island roots with Pulley's smooth melodicism and Smoke or Fire's rabid aural assault, Thieves and Assassins might be criticized by conservative parties for encouraging discontent, manic fist-pumping and neck-snapping headbang-action. Martyr Brigade is, musically, pretty much a great album. A rarity, the album's lyrics bolster the band's ascendence of the hardcore hierarchy. Few songs, for instance, resonate like "Sink or Swim," a heartbreaking ode rueing ever-widening social stratification. It's a refreshing dose of condemnation (versus misplaced blame) addressing the overwhelming social forces that stamp the truly impoverished further downward.

There's an authentic working class feel to this album, rough but beautiful, buttressed by the faded album insert and appropriately anti-audiophile recording quality. Which is to say the album sounds fantastic, a fat bass sound and dual guitar crunch reinforced by powerful, omnipresent percussion. A vocal talent who would be acknowledged by fans of any genre is an unexpected treat.

Quality, um, melodi-thought-core has a refrain that should never fade, even though that new genre name definitely should.

For full effect find a lyric sheet. Thieves and Assassins - "Sink or Swim"

Visit the Iron Pier label store.