Disma’s sound comes as no surprise, particularly since members of the legendary Incantation as well as Funebrarum round out the band’s lineup. Craig Pillard’s vocals give everything that could be expected of death metal, a guttural growl with an extremely low register, while Bill Venner and Daryl Kahan exhibit great chemistry with their sludgy, doom-oriented riffs. Together, these components create an absolutely crushing sound that capture the old school style to a T. Sprectal Domination is a great example of everything this genre has been missing for the last decade or so; casually switched-up tempos, tremendously dark production, and insanely heavy guitars, just dark and heavy music, completely free of pretension.

There are a few gripes though, none of which are foreign to death metal albums. For one, the bass is a bit buried in the mix, only audible in the rare moment that the guitars are not present. Another issue is that songs trudge on for far too long without enough ideas to really justify the lengths. Chasm of Oceanus, for example, feels like a three minute song slowed to a crawl in order to occupy more than twice the time than is necessary, with only a scant few creeping riffs to keep it going along. This leads to what is perhaps the most damning drawback, which is the quality of the riffs themselves; they’re simply not that creative. Venner and Kahan seem to rely more on heaviness than any sort of catchiness, and while it undeniably still sounds great, it gives the feeling that the songs aren’t really going anywhere.

Lastly, and as previously stated, this album only stands out really because of the era in which it has been released. Had this come out in say, ’92, the year of classics such as The End Complete, Tomb of the Mutilated, Necroticism, and most relevantly, Incantation’s Onward to Golgatha, it would have been utterly overlooked. There is nothing here that hasn’t been done better already. But in all fairness… when has death metal ever been about originality? Truth be told, the formula is applied well enough, and Megalith is still a great listen, outshining most other releases of its style that have come out this year.

Towards the Megalith is a great representation of early death metal, and breezes by quickly enough to catch the ear but avoid overstaying its welcome. In spite of its issues, Disma have put forth a fierce  replication of what is arguably death metal’s best period, and it’s safe to say that there isn’t any fan of the genre who will be disappointed with this solid piece of work.

"Remember who you are... a little girl fucker." That's what they tell pedos when they're released from prison.

So now, Jonathan Davis and co. felt the best way to follow this up was with a return to form of sorts, and Korn III: Remember Who You Are has been received as such.  I look back and think of a much younger me rocking out to Korn’s first album, which I even still do on occasion, so you can imagine that this concept was rather intriguing to me. Coming off the heels of giving their tired sound a bit of an expansion, and now going back to their roots? Sounds great! There’s only one problem… the album is absolutely terrible.

Right from the get-go, it’s clear that something is very wrong here. While the introductory Uber-Time is an ear catching blend of ambient noise, a sample, and feedback, and really gives you the impression that the proper opener is going to blow you away, it leads into none other than lead single Oildale (Leave Me Alone), which makes it clear that this not only fails to be a return to form, but isn’t even a convincing attempt to relive past glories. The guitar is so bland, and that’s not even the worst part – the chorus is typical anthemic Korn, with perhaps the most uninspired and frankly childish lyrics they’ve used yet (“Why don’t you just leave me alone?!”). Ignore the fact that there is absolutely no energy to this song – just ask yourself why a man pushing forty is using schoolyard retorts and giving the microphone postured moans in his effort to recall his band’s early days. He even has the Adidas jumpsuit! It’s ridiculous. You can’t simply conjure up what you were sixteen years ago and expect it to go well; the idea that anybody thinks this would work is preposterous! For Korn fans who disagree, just watch the Oildale and Blind videos back to back – there is no comparison.

The rest of the album does nothing to improve, or even sound remotely different; it’s just more half-baked attempts at recalling their ’94 selves. As touched on earlier, a huge drawback is the lyrics. Listening to Davis wail about ”being everybody’s whore” on Move On in the midst of talking about trying to please everybody is just laughable. Why then, on The Past and Never Around, for example, is he talking about how everybody lies to him? It makes one wonder why he’s trying to please these people, and this makes it even more difficult to empathize with the perpetually angst-ridden millionaire. Who exactly is lying to him, anyway? These faceless antagonists have been around for the better part of Korn’s career, but it didn’t matter in their early days for a very simple reason – he really seemed mean it. Songs like Faget and Fake were lyrically simple and direct, but his sheer emotion really forced his torment on you until you could feel it yourself. When he sings ”I want to pass my test and complete this tormented life” on Lead the Parade, though, it just sounds postured, and without the driving emotion, it makes Davis’ lyrics sound like little more than high school poetry. The awkward vocal pattern (as well as Let the Guilt Go‘s growing screams of “and thinking… and thinking…”) are basically lifted from earlier records, but with none of the intensity, which is ultimately this album’s problem. Early Korn was dark and intense; even moments where the collective’s jovial nature came out, like Ball Tongue‘s chorus, Clown‘s intro, or even A.D.I.D.A.S. and Wicked from Life Is Peachy, there was a sense of foreboding. Here, it just sounds formulaic and processed.

Munky's ready to brawl

Some might argue that this genre is an easy one to paint yourself into a corner with, but take a look at Korn’s fellow alt. metal elderstatesmen, the Deftones. They’ve consistently pushed their creative boundaries (albeit with varying degrees of success) and this year put out what may be their best work yet. Korn, on the other hand, ran their sound to fuck before attempting to ape the stylings of their first two albums, and failed miserably. So they remember who they are, well that’s great. Unfortunately, I remember too – and the hungry, pissed off twentysomethings from 1994 would have taken one look at these middle-aged has-beens and laughed their asses off.

Medication time

While the album’s themes of overstimulation, drug use, and societal ills are hardly revelatory, their presentation feels highly genuine. For example, drugs are never glorified or lectured over so much as discussed (well, as much as a roaring, distorted voice can discuss). The feelings of alienation and frustration are also expressed quite well; in lesser hands the lyrical template “We are the _____ of the _____” would sound extremely hackneyed, but here it’s very easy to get behind. Nothing feels as if handled with a single dimension; even fA510n v1k+um5, which details a clear irritation with the current music scene, does so with a surprising sense of humor – a few measures after frontman Sean Payne sardonically growls “This beat is merciless” is a sample of Chuck D.’s enthusiastic “Bring that beat back!”

What really sells it is how many different styles are at work. While the pummeling blast beat-led Dose Responsive and Sentient (by far the most metallic songs on the album) sound great, there are different approaches taken here as well. Efficacy is a glitch-heavy left field electronica exploration, but with a dark air that keeps it from seeming out of place. The Static Screens (In Syndication) and Brutal Deluxe are driven by aggressive breakbeats that call to mind the finest moments of Pitchshifter and latter day Cubanate, with the latter track being one of the heaviest here, despite being one of the least reliant on guitars. Then there is Monochrome Skies, which is easily the best melancholic industrial metal this side of Ministry’s Scarecrow, with a deliberate build-up, powerful groove, and fantastic layering.

in the ciiiiityyy

Repeated listens show that The Medication Generation was crafted with painstaking detail, even if judging solely by the samples being used. A Scanner Darkly, Videodrome, processed Slayer riffs, Homer Simpson, and God knows what else is meticulously placed in the mix to help Payne convey his point. And there is a point to each and every one used, which is the beauty of it; nothing is done simply for sake of sounding good, everything is an extension of Payne’s social commentary. Programmed and its introductory track The Same brilliantly use a sample from the film Palindromes to introduce the former track’s musing over growing complacence with the idea of helplessness over bettering oneself. The somber Comadose is a bit more straight forward, centering around a listless guitar and Payne’s murmurings of “I wish I felt safe, I wish I knew my place” and culminating in yet another like-minded sample. Not a moment is wasted here, and the result is a highly dense album which makes it clear that the band has been quite busy for the last five years. This isn’t just the year’s best industrial metal, The Medication Generation is a lesson in how to make it.

TTDTDE’s sound has gotten a huge boost thanks to Travis’ work on this record. The spontaneous nature of previous guitarist Layne Meylain is not as strong (as was likely expected), but Travis still keeps the spirit alive with rather erratic playing of his own, employing harmonic sweeps and bending strings mid-riff, for instance. These are probably best displayed on Yippie-Kay-Yay Motherfucker, Passenger 57, and There’s a Time and Place for Everything, each of which are both technically proficient and highly catchy. The riffs are still absolutely crushing as well, and with the new emphasis on groove and melody, they almost sound like 90s greats Pantera and Machine Head spliced with Meshuggah, or even the Dillinger Escape Plan. I Am Sammy Jenkis provides references both Memento in title and Meshuggah in style, but the great thing is that before the unsettling guitar melody hovering over the chugging riffs begins to sound a bit too familar, they are very quick to dive back into their own trademarks, returning with screeching guitars, quick and offbeat drums, and and great, abrupt ending that practically crashes into the next track, The Lost & Damned.

As mentioned earlier, however, the number of breakdowns can still get to be a bit much, mostly toward Danza III’s end. Suicide’s Best Friend sounds more like a host of song segments thrown together than an actual song, linked by a minimal flow. Travis overuses his aforementioned techniques somewhat also, as well as on the otherwise compelling The Union. The band really does their best work when working their trademark spontaneity around the groove they’ve adopted here, as opposed to the other way around. Still, this is really a small grip, seeing as it only pops up on a scant few tracks in the album’s second half. Not to mention that given the genuine fury to the record, they’re a surprisingly difficult band to accuse of trying too hard.

"I shall protect you from the black guy behind me!" "Grrrr!" "And also point for no reason"

Danza III is a huge leap from the band’s previous albums, both in terms of production and songwriting. Before, the Danza Tapdancers were better known for running through random sections and exhausting the listener, ultimately sounding like a slightly above average mathcore band. Here, there is more focus on melody, and it cannot be overstated just how much Travis’ groove-laden riffs bring to the table. TTDTDE just stepped into the big leagues with this one.

Aw how cute

Like Saturday Night Wrist, the opening track is the lead single (Hole in the Earth and Diamond Eyes), and is also the perfect place to begin. The title track sports the same bright, uplifting chorus as Hole, but Eyes has a certain fury to it that the former was missing – the chugging verses and outro are incredibly heavy, and Chino Moreno’s vocals (both sung and screamed) feel better applied. One of the Deftones’ greatest strengths is how well Moreno is able to use his voice as an instrument, an asset that very few other vocalists can rival. For easy examples, listen to Moreno and Carpenter’s combined attack on tracks like CMND/CNTRL (“Once again! Just because I can!!”) or Rocket Skates (“Guns! Razors! Kniiiives!!” finished with an energetic “WOOO” as the icing on the cake). Then there are the tender moments, where it’s more Frank Delgado’s keyboards working with and against Moreno’s voice, like the ethereal Beauty School. Of course what really clinches the unification of all the shades of the Deftones is how well the three work together. Prince, which is strangely reminiscent of White Pony’s Rx Queen while sounding nothing like it at all, boasts an extremely powerful chorus with Carpenter’s sledgehammer riffs bouncing against Delgado’s synths, held together with Abe Cunningham’s ever progressing drumming and Sergio Vega’s (Chi Cheng’s replacement at present) unsurprisingly capable bass playing, and all topped by Moreno’s singing, gradually shifting back and forth from soulful croon to melodic roar.

Diamond Eyes is extremely consistent with this dynamic, which gives the album a fantastic flow. Even the tracks that venture slightly outside the established sound, such as You’ve Seen the Butcher‘s sludgy, bluesy riffing over a swinging, 6/8 beat, share the same positive melodicism and overwhelming metallic crunch. Perhaps the defining moment of Diamond Eyes is Risk, a heartbreaking yet strangely hopeful song about undying devotion. Lines like “I’ll find a way, I’m confused, but I think I can try, I will save your life” are sung with such intense meaning and are downright hair raising. It’s tremendously moving, serenely beautiful but endlessly rousing, haunting but uplifting, and all at once. Now that’s what Deftones’ music is all about!

You've got the barbed wire in the shot, right? Good... without that awesome barbed wire we're gonna look like jackasses

It’s incredibly fulfilling to see all of a band’s incredible potential realized, particularly one I’ve been so fond of for so long. They’ve finally consolidated all the great ideas they’ve had over the past decade, at no sacrifice to their core sound, while continually (and puzzlingly) coming up with new ways to blend crushing guitar licks, gentle electronic atmospherics, and powerful, dynamic vocals. This is the metal album to beat for 2010, and I can say with complete confidence that it’s not going to happen.

For the freshest breath, take Periphery

Periphery’s self-titled is a sprawling affair, clocking in at well over seventy minutes with only a dozen songs. The length in songs seems appropriate at times (ironically most with Racecar, the grandiose, fifteen minute long closer), but mostly the songs seem to misuse the free form style by meandering rather than building up to anything or switching up in interesting ways. On songs like All New Materials and Buttersnips, the band breezes through different sections with latest vocalist Spencer Sotelo alternately soaring and roaring over it all, and the minutes slip away. Materials makes great use of the band’s dynamics, while Buttersnips tastefully sees a good melody mutate throughout the track. Letter Experiment and Light on the other hand, for example, feel bloated and self-important, cramming too many weak melodies together and throwing in overly dramatic solos far too early. Sotelo is a factor in the album’s slightly above pedestrian sound in the fact that he himself is slightly above pedestrian. His voice only has two faces, both of which have been done before in metalcore and done better.

Another thing is Periphery’s overall production, which sounds excessively polished. Even at their harshest, most Meshuggah-referencing moments on The Walk and Icarus Lives!, it gleams a bit too much, which renders softer moments like Jetpacks Was Yes! as pure saccharine. The added touch of the drum programming and various electronic effects sound good, but more often than not it felt gimmicky, as it seldom actually contributed to the songs.

While Periphery’s debut is weighed down by quite a lot of bombast, there are still several moments where the songwriting clicks. Racecar is perhaps the band’s shining moment, and is essentially what the rest of the album is trying to sound like. The band flows through different styles in an absolutely seamless fashion, without a touch of pretense. Dynamics are paired masterfully, solos come in all the right (sometimes even unpredictable) places, and it’s utterly epic without sounding like it’s trying.

We look even less pissed off than usual!

One thing that can be said for Periphery is that they’ve managed to not sound derivative. They’ve taken their influences and melded them into their own style, which is deserving of praise in and of itself, and indicative of a bright future. Their debut, however, is heavily flawed, and combined with excessive hype and the fact that the Dillinger Escape Plan just released an absolute mathcore masterpiece in Option Paralysis a mere month ago, Periphery’s self-titled just can’t measure up. A decent album from a potentially great band.

"What the hell is that?" "Careful... it's got a knife."

Released as a download back in January, Farewell Mona Lisa not only sounded better than much of Ire Works, but recalled Miss Machine in its masterful combination of both brutality and melodicism. Guitarist Ben Weinman, the group’s sole remaining founding member, leads the attack along with new drummer Billy Rymer and vocalist Greg Puciato’s powerful shouting. The nearly two minute long assault is classic Dillinger, until the track takes a dramatic break and adopts a brooding, progressing approach that brings it to a dramatic close. Fittingly, it opens Option Paralysis, and Good Neighbor picks right up where the song leaves off, exploding with incredible intensity, but a finesse and diversity that the band first took to with Machine. Some of the pop experimentation from the last album is put into better practice here, with a very, very loose inclusion of a traditional song structure, for example. The whole approach is handled better here, really – where half of Ire Works failed to infuse a pop sensibility into the band’s sound without losing any of their trademark intensity, Gold Teeth on a Bum succeeds with flying colors in a mere five minutes. It recalls Unretrofied, their first foray into pop, but easily stands on its own.

The musicianship is, of course, spectacular as always. Weinman and new guitarist Jeff Tuttle are in top form, and Rymer fits right in, recalling Pennie’s fiercely technical approach. On Endless Ending in particular, Weinman and Tuttle shift effortlessly from crushing grindcore playing to funk stylings to virtuoso jazz soloing, while Rymer shows more intensity and technical prowess than Sharone ever did with Dillinger. Greg Puciato is an outstanding vocalist, and while he still seems to be in Mike Patton’s shadow, as evidenced by his intro vocals on both Widower and Parasitic Twins, he is slowly but surely coming into his own.

Widower is another example of how well Dillinger tackles the failed experiments of Ire Works. The song is melodic while maintaining a jazzy structure, and the piano adds a great element to the song rather than feeling simply thrown in. Eventually the track begins to spiral out of control, with the type of controlled chaos that Dillinger do best. The entire second half, really, displays a heavy incorporation of melody into the band’s highly technical attack, that again, tops the efforts made on the last record by leaps and bounds. Parasitic Twins closes things out beautifully, and though Puciato sounds a bit Mike Patton-ish here, the quality of his vocals are impossible to deny. His croons and falsettos are fantastic, and the sinister backing instrumentation could not be crafted better. Cleverly used loops, smooth jazzy piano, and traditional bluesy solos drive the song, all without doing away with the album’s overall vibe.

"GIMME THE FUCKIN' KEYS, you fuckin cocksucker motherfucker wooaaaaAAAHHHHHGGHH"

It looked like the Dillinger Escape Plan had peaked with Miss Machine after the underwhelming Ire Works, but Option Paralysis might even be better. It sees a band collecting their past musical ideas and building upon them in a balanced fashion, moving forward and maturing splendidly. Their last album was a bit of a stumble, but they bounced back with what is perhaps their best album yet.

Blackness, blades, spines? Now that's what I call fuckin' METAL

Cazares’ return is obvious immediately. Right from the opening title track’s vicious attack, the riffs crush in a way they haven’t in a long, long while. They blend superbly with the keyboards added in Rhys Fulber’s production, something that the band has steadily gotten better since Digimortal. The pop element is played down, though, leaving for a more harsh, industrial sound. The improved balance has resulted in something of an amalgam of Fear Factory’s best. Industrial Discipline‘s chorus has got a certain pop-inflected finesse to it, while the verses (and the bridge in particular) are darker and more aggressive, but with catchy hooks that piece the song together. Much of the diversity the band has shown over the years is present in tracks like Christploitation – in five quickly passing minutes, they display unsettling soundscapes, decimating riffs, alternating tempos, warm and inviting synths, and overall, some of Cazares’ best playing to date. Then there are absolute scorchers like Fear Campaign and Controlled Demolition, where Cazares and Hoglan work in pulverizing conjunction while Bell takes center stage with his dynamic vocals, bellowing some of his most intimidating roars and crooning some of his best sounding melodies. The opening itself (as well as the instrumental  Metallic Division) also seems to hark back to the band’s heyday, with an ominous, industrial sound reminiscent of that on Demanufacture.

Another thing Mechanize has to boast is Final Exit, an epic closer on par with those of their earlier albums, which was failed to be replicated on Archetype, and perhaps wisely ignored altogether with Transgression. The alternating brutality and soulfulness is absolutely flawless, with synths and samples thrown in at just the right moments – for example, there are several parts with the band mercilessly thrashing away, but a single gentle synth renders these moments as incredibly soothing (doubly when Bell sings over them). The song’s slow fade into ambience is, to Fulber’s credit, very well done, and overall the song’s eight minutes just melt away. One more noteworthy pro is that this album isn’t weighed down by a cover, something that was done very well on Demanufacture and Obsolete, but felt gimmicky and unnecessary on their last two efforts. Overall, while it’s true that Mechanize isn’t quite as strong as the band’s best (the lyrical focus on autonomy and man vs. machine is starting to repeat itself a bit), it’s leagues away from their most recent work, and a decisive step in the right direction.

That's why Burton C. Bell got rid of those two; they weren't fat enough to make him look good

Mechanize feels like the album that was intended to follow the band’s 2001 pop flirtation that was Digimortal. It’s an impressive combination of their different facets, perhaps melding the elements of death metal, industrial, electronica, ambient, and even pop as well as they have since Obsolete. It’s unrelentingly brutal, yet incredibly melodic and tightly composed, and most importantly with the familiar soul that graced the first four albums. Fear Factory’s latest proves quite decisively that while Wolbers and Herrera were significant contributors at their respective posts, it was Bell and Cazares at the helm. With them together again, the band sounds as good as they ever have, and it feels like they’re picking up right where they left off nine years ago.

You should see the other guy... he's fine. He was huge though! Kicked my ass...

Hellbilly Deluxe 2 sets right out of its gate with Jesus Frankenstein, driven by that industrial stomp he’s known for, but the verses have a strange (and very welcome) reminiscence to La Sexorcisto era White Zombie, due largely to the slightly more complex guitar work, courtesy of John 5. Sick Bubble-Gum keeps the album’s startling energy going strong with one of Zombie’s trademark cheesy horror movie samples, an aggressive, processed riff, and of course his obligatory “MuthaFUCKAH YEEAAAHHH,” which naturally makes up a big chunk of the chorus.

After a very refreshing start, Mars Needs Women settles in with its gypsy hard rock intro (which I’m sure will have more than a few people tempted to bust out Extreme’s Hole Hearted), which shows a lot of the dimension Zombie explored on Urge and Horses. It gives way quickly though, and the song explodes with basically what makes a typical Rob Zombie song work so well – a blasting beat, a heavy industrial groove, and a fist-pumping melody boasting awesomely absurd lyrics. Speaking of which, the song titles are unabashedly Zombie-esque; I know I’m not the only one who heard Werewolf Women of the SS and remembered how badly I secretly wanted to see the Grindhouse trailer made into a deliberate B movie of its own. Seriously, I mean it couldn’t be any worse than Machete.

In the middle there are a few missteps, namely Werewolf Baby!’s blandness and Death and Destiny Inside the Dream Factory‘s gimmicky sound, and then there’s the completely unnecessary four minute drumline bit towards the end of closer The Man Who Laughs, which ends only to erupt back into the chorus; because apparently four minutes just wasn’t long enough. Still, What? is a fun, short and sweet single, and part of what makes the middle lag is not so much that the songs in question are bad; it’s just that Virgin Witch‘s blues-meets-industrial vibe and especially the powerful Burn, which slightly resembles a faster Living Dead Girl, are too strong to be placed among mediocre tracks without making them look a lot less impressive.

"Why do you have all that fake blood on you?" "FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHY"

For all its problems, Rob Zombie has released a rather consistent and damned entertaining record. The best thing about Hellbilly Deluxe 2 is not so much that he seems to have realized that the experimentation became more to his detriment, but that he’s regained his songwriting balance. Just as on the first Hellbilly record, Zombie has crafted a wonderfully sinister mood, but with the campiness still well in mind. No, it’s not as good as his solo debut, but it’s close, and with him hinting at this being his final physical CD release, it’s a great note to go out on.

Oh, now that shit's spooky. ...kinda

Despite the clear intention of these covers, they’re played very faithfully, and nothing really new is tried with the exception of Chris Barnes growling the vocals instead of singing them, which of course for this band is nothing new at all. The most interesting song here is their take on the Ramones’ Psychotherapy, for the obvious reason that the Ramones are the only band on Graveyard Classics 3 who are really out of Six Feet Under’s element. It’s impressive that they’re able to take such a fun, sarcastic song and make it sound so menacing; lines like “Gonna kill someone” and “I’m gonna burglarize your home” are taken so out of context that it deserves mention. After all, the best covers are usually those that take a completely different perspective with a song, rather than attempting to simply replicate it.

Still, as mentioned before, the covers are largely too faithful to be very compelling. Even songs the listener may not be familiar with still sound like Six Feet Under, but not; A Dangerous Meeting (Mercyful Fate) and Metal on Metal (Anvil) are clearly Eighties metal, where the Metallica (Frayed Ends of Sanity) and Slayer (At Dawn They Sleep) songs are just that. Of course, this is not intended to be an artistic statement, just the band cutting loose and having fun playing favorite songs, but it just doesn’t feel like it had to be released as an official full length. Especially when they did this much better the first time around.

While Graveyard Classics 3 is mostly mediocre, some covers are just plain bad. Van Halen’s On Fire sounds incredibly tired and boring, but the worst by far is Prong’s Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck. This was the one I was personally most interested in hearing, and it was the most disappointing. The band’s version has absolutely no edge, and it’s hard to believe that Chris Barnes and co. couldn’t think of more creative things to do with this song. Despite being heavier than the original, it sounds strangely watered down, and listening to Chris Barnes imitating the background screams from the original with his own high pitched howls is a hard thing to not laugh at.

They look nothing like any other death metal group. Look, he's got DREDS!!

Not to call Six Feet Under a lackluster band, because as far as their genre is concerned they’re perfectly adequate, but the gimmick of giving older songs a death metal flair has gotten old, particularly as the theme of an entire album. It certainly was a good idea when they first did it back in 2000, but by now (and especially after the somewhat bland second volume, which was a reinterpretation of AC/DC’s Back in Black album) it’s lost its charm, and coming from a band who is unquestionably talented but also undeniably past their prime, it’s nothing that merits more than one or two listens.