Review Summary: A joyous, if not entirely consistent stab of stoner rock fury.
It's peculiar that Portland-based Red Fang have gained audacity primarily due to the three hilarious clips directed by Whitey McConnaughy of Jackass notoriety. It seems that music videos are still a powerful art form prone to attract the listener's attention, at least if they're so gloriously goofy as McConnaughy's work which ideally encapsulates Red Fang's brazen, beer-soaked brand of stoner rock. The quartet's Relapse Records debut
Murder the Mountains stood out with its expert symbiosis of potent riffs, punk energy and infectious melodies, but also hinted at a more adventurous and far-reaching approach to songwriting. By comparison,
Whales and Leaches is a disappointingly safe record that sees the outfit settling in the confines of their established style rather than progressing. There's hardly anything novel in the group's musical arsenal as they continue to tread a fine line between Mastodon's sludgy harshness and Torche's punk-infused approachability. This strategy makes for an overly familiar, though still pleasurable listen.
Brief mid-tempo party rockers, which they've mastered on the previous offering, are in abundance cluttered mindlessly through the first half of
Whales and Leaches. Numbers like 'Crows In Swine' and 'Behind The Light' surely burst with dexterous transitions and memorable hooks, yet they blend seamlessly with some less-than-stellar cuts, such as the annoyingly repetitive 'No Hope' or the utterly unremarkable 'Voices Of The Dead.' The album's latter half thankfully provides more diversity. 'Dawn Rising' is an undoubted highlight, finally letting some much needed oomph into the act's presentation. The atmosphere gets way more ominous with aptly slowed-down tempo. In addition, Mike Scheidt of YOB fame steps in to lend his signature piercing howl which superbly complements Aaron Beam's powerful cleans. As a result, this monumental track finds Red Fang at their most viscerally compelling. The record also ends neatly with the dreamy space rock of 'Every Little Twist' that boasts for once a distinctive sonic palette.
Adhering to the same formula most of the time
Whales and Leeches rarely takes the listener by surprise. The album is largely conventional and vapid with its reliance on guitar leads and solos that fail to differentiate themselves from the pack. If nothing else, the vocals of Aaron Beam and Bryan Giles have improved, offering an even sharper interplay between pristine clean singing and feral screams. Producer Chris Funk reasonably places them high in the mix against the backdrop of a warmly fuzzed-out, if decidedly lucid sound of instruments. Regrettably
Whales and Leeches is too short on substance to amply support its top-notch production values, often showcasing the quartet on autopilot. On their third outings most bands attempt to step up their game in terms of consistent songwriting. Instead, there are as many skippable tracks on this record as those worth revisiting. Mere competency is not sufficient to turn heads, especially in the year that abounds in high-quality stoner rock releases.
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