Review Summary: Half-fleshed
It’s becoming exceedingly rare for bona fide metal bands to push the envelope, and perhaps even rarer for self-styled avant-garde acts to gain traction within the gated community. Outsider music tends to slip and slide by default, and
Boy Man Machine has a distinct, sand-slipping-through-fingers tone that mirrors this potential reception; by chance, a couple grains might stick. Put bluntly, it’s not for everyone. Ohioan group Drose craft a sparse doom-drone-industrial hybrid balancing pitiful candour with pent-up aggression, and lacks just about any of the conventionally good qualities of metal. Their debut full-length,
Boy Man Machine, doesn’t riff, features bizarrely androgynous vocals, and constantly pulls the rug out from under itself, screwing with the momentum. The album is frustrating in its labyrinthine construction, spending the first few tracks backed into several corners, gasping, feeling around in the dark. Opener “The Unraveling” sees the protagonist rotting in isolation, with vocalist Dustin Rose spewing some partially-delusional prophesies of the outside world.
Boy Man Machine has a narrative that both makes and breaks the album, with its early stages resembling a sort of sociopathological blooming, while its latter half is ultimately much more exciting in delivery. Earlier tracks like “An Idol” and “A Loss” use strategic energy pauses and melodramatic insights, bridged with warped, noisy guitar work and bits of musique concrete. It all builds a sense of anticipation that, by about twelve minutes in, grows tiresome. Not a moment too late, “Numerical Control”, probably the first solidified song, provides the first album highlight, utilizing eerie industrial ambience with a sauntering groove and a more multidimensional use of sonic space. From then on, the album wanders the line between humane and apathetic. “A Clay Mind” seems to ascend endlessly, with layers of wiry, metallic pitch slides acting as overlapping pulley systems, hoisting Rose to a podium. Much of
Boy Man Machine feels like Rose is pulling cobwebs from his larynx, transforming from feeble cave dweller to vindictive cyborg.
The loose story arch makes for some conceptual worth, but many listeners might find themselves abandoning a hefty chunk of the tracklist; the earlier portions feel necessary enough for inclusion and subsequent discussion, but not compelling enough to avoid being overshadowed by the more gripping moments later on. Drose flourish when they hit their stride rhythmically, unshackling themselves. Lead single “The Man” features stop-start dynamics, forewarnings, cataclysmic percussion, and an engaging progression; follow-up “A Change” is sludgy, unpredictable, and transformative, with the test subject coming to terms with what could very well be cybernetic enhancement of some sort. Thematically,
Boy Man Machine might’ve improved had it delved more into the industrial-tinkering aspect, peeling the skin open and studying the machinery with equal parts disgust and glee. Much of the album insists an obsessive introspection, but doesn’t entirely convince the listener of genuine fixation. What we’re left with is a promising framework that unfortunately still rings a bit hollow.
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