Review Summary: Ho-hum brutality.
Since its foundations, the genre of metal has been all about extremities. Arguably, the best metal albums from any sub-genre you can think of are the kind that either express extreme emotions and passion, or conveys their music in a way that it makes you feel said emotions. Hence, when a metal release comes along that simply goes through the motions and elicits little more than an apathetic shrug, something has gone dreadfully wrong. Six albums in, it appears that Washington D.C. metalcore veterans (never thought the day would come when THAT term would be used), Darkest Hour, have lost the spark of energy and artistic integrity that has made at least a selection of their discography worthwhile listens (particularly, 2005’s
Undoing Ruin). Their latest,
The Eternal Return, certainly has the makings of a record that could thrive on start-to-finish brutality, but falls significantly short of the mark. This is a record that treads ground lightly when it should stomp furiously – an underwhelming experience trying its darndest to be overwhelming.
It’s hard to fault what Darkest Hour do collectively in strictly musical terms. What they set out to do, they achieve. Instrumentally, they are tight, precise and almost machine-like in their continuous onslaught of downtuned riffage, wailing dual solos and Ryan Parrish’s speedy drum fills – the latter arguably the most interesting thing about this record, trying its very hardest to breathe life into the songs. Sure, for the easy-to-please metalhead, there’s enough headbanging/moshing/bodyslamming moments on
The Eternal Return to last them until the next Lamb of God record or their next neck surgery (whichever comes first). When it comes to putting it all together, however, the band’s efforts on the record are not a great deal better than the sum of their parts.
The guitar riffs from axemen Mike Schleibaum and new guy Mike Carrigan (replacing former shredder Kris Norris) are predominantly uninventive and lacklustre, simply going for a lap of the fretboard in either drop B or drop C tuning. Technical speed matched with chunky, ringing chords is the order of the day on
The Eternal Return, but instead of achieving its intended desire of dark brutality, it all comes across as slap-dash and dull. Not even vocalist John Henry can drag the record out of its slump over the ten tracks on offer. His voice devolves into a tough-guy rasp, any slight attempts at melody laughable. His death-and-destruction subject matter doesn’t assist his case much further. If opener “Devolution of the Flesh” and “A Distorted Utopia” aren’t enough for you, take note of “No God”, which sees him churn out a faux-hook in the form of repeated “There is no God!” howls.
Given, the type of music they are creating isn’t exactly rocket science. Like all the simple pleasures in music, however, there is a distinct art to making it work – an art the band has come close to mastering on previous outings. On
The Eternal Return, however, there is a significant lack of substance that will most likely disinterest all but the diehards.
