Darryl Wright has been writing fiction and critiquing pop culture and music since the 80's. He was the two time winner of the Step Up! Slam Poetry event in Ottawa, Canada and now divides his time between developing software for major video game titles and writing. He's promoted shows, directed music festivals and even DJ'ed The Fringe Festival. Today he's a father, software developer, and critic who makes his home in Vancouver, Canada.
Trying to adopt a more consistent sound throughout the record is a double-edged sword. It means that you can concentrate on what you do best, but, at the end of the day, it also means that’s all you have to play with.
Beats that are so ridiculously slow that at times they feel like they might collapse under their own lethargy form a murky foundation for lines so deep and dense you’ll need a team of archaeologists to unearth their meaning.
The remarkable quality of the sounds coming out of these disparate personalities is so cleanly divided that each song seems to benefit from the sonic quality of two entirely different lead singers as opposed to the reality of one, who is obviously possessed.
There’s no dance-floor friendly banger or loud snapping snares. It's all easy entrances and exits: guests stopping over unexpectedly to relate a sad story and then exiting quietly through the back while you're pouring the tea.
When I talk about metal music I don't typically make reference to terms like "optimism", "hope" or "sunny afternoons". But just as other genres have their emotional orientations, metal too can offer a spectrum of perspectives -- even if not as often.
This record relaxes on your sofa and instead of asking you to grab it a beer on your way to the fridge, it offers to share those that it brought. It’s all give. It’s easy. When the hour grows late you might even ask it to stay a little longer. And when it’s time to part, you'll already be planning to do it again.
Track six is the song titled “... - - - …” which, if you've never been a Boy/Girl Scout, translates to “S.O.S.”, the universal call for help. By the time you arrive at “Wunderboom”, you’re going to need it.
Bass music is expected to go low but the truly low point on this record is “Feel Good”. It conjures images of music heard in rural plazas or elevators where musicians anonymously contribute their lesser works to easily digestible compilations of shopping mall-targeted mediocrity.