Every Time I Die and the Absurd

  If it's not readily apparent from the influx of posts dedicated to more traditional forms of extreme metal, I've mostly given up on good ol' metalcore. Yes, after one too many internet arguments (none of which I'm proud of), I started to cultivate an interest in black metal, and moved in that direction. It's a little unfortunate, because there's still quite a lot of very good metalcore - the Chariot (RIP :( ), Converge, and Norma Jean to name just three - but for every fan of theirs are ten yowling Oli Sykes fangirls.
     Since I was introduced to the genre with A Day to Remember, I've had a strange sort of fascination with Buffalo act Every Time I Die - a band that has continuously been on my top 10 list since 2009. Something about that unique blend of powerviolence and Southern rock just keeps reeling me in. Just this morning, I was listening to 'Recovery Mode' off their newest album Ex-Lives when I realized that, while it's no secret that frontman Keith Buckley writes some of the best lyrics in the genre ("I only marvel at existence in the language existence permits/Most hearts make terrible sounds so I laugh, laugh, laugh" - 'Touch Yourself'), there was definitely something there I'm not getting.
      Buckley's cynicism and sense of sarcasm are as sharp as a sword - whether it's likening suicide to marriage ("Drag the lake, you'll find it full of love") or brutally criticizing other bands ("This labyrinth that we're puzzled by is nothing more than a straight line"), he somehow manages to make anything discussed seem that much more futile.
       My first thought was that the band's songs are purely pessimistic, but that idea didn't sit well with me for two reasons - the first being that, for an act so sardonic to fall into the tired tropes of metalcore seemed both unfortunate and unlikely. Secondly, pessimism doesn't account for the bitter mockery Buckley levels at any sort of institution - 'The Logic of Crocodiles' is a jab at businessmen, spouting "I'm a very important person, I've acquired a genetically altered handshake capable of speeds up to 30 miles per hour". Pure pessimism wouldn't be interested in making jokes, but would fixate on the negative consequences of a particularly corrupt businessman, for example.
         So then, with what are we left? Well, in my opinion the band seems to favor an Absurdist philosophy more than anything else. What's Absurdism, then? To put it briefly, Absurdist philosophy claims that human attempts to impose order on a chaotic universe are doomed to fail - the universe is 'untameable', it has its natural way of things, and in attempting to make things more ordered, we will never succeed. To that end, as we dwell and interact with institutions and ideas that impose 'order' on the world, we are hopping on board a sinking ship. Albert Camus' essay 'the Myth of Sisyphus' pens Sisyphus -  who was doomed by the gods of Olympus to eternally push a boulder up a hill, only to have it roll down when he reached the summit - as the perfect example of an absurd hero. Sisyphus is forced to spend eternity accomplishing nothing - which ties in to absurdism in that all human accomplishments are utterly meaningless.
          That's great, but how does that tie back into Every Time I Die? Well, take the lyrics to 'Gloom and How it Gets That Way':

The faulty mechanism of hope has disintegrated.
Your captain nailed his feet to someone else's ship at the sight of me.
Do what your mother tells you and put down the sheriff's horse.
The choir on the black box rejoiced splendidly, singing hallelujah the king is dead.
The king is dead. (source)

             To begin, 'the faulty mechanism of hope has disintegrated'. If that doesn't scream Absurdist, you tell me. The remaining four lines are a bit more difficult to analyze - but read over them and Buckley paints a chaotic picture, hopping back and forth from a captain to a choir to a mother. It's almost humorous in terms of how bizarre everything clashes together. But that's just topical - the captain who flees his own ship, the disobedient child, and the dead king all have one unifying theme: the departure of order. 

             Alternatively, here are some lyrics from 'Imitation is the Sincerest  Form of Battery':

Retract the accolade the candid acclaim
Inspiration is cutting its loss
Regurgitate headlines or a theory on modern art
You've been fooled again, the red herrings a joke (source)

              The song, itself a jab at self-styled art critics, again has a particularly telling first line - 'Retract the accolade' - in which Buckley implores the listener to undo false order in the form of praise. The remaining three lines are pure sarcasm. The personification of inspiration 'cutting its loss' next to 'regurgitate headlines or a theory of modern art' is a subtle put-down, and the last line cements the idea that these hipsters really don't know what they're talking about. Buckley's exasperation with them, conveyed by sarcastic praise, seems to be semi-Absurdist because he is condemning attempts to understand art - which, due to its myriad of interpretations, is impossible to truly understand. Totally Absurdist.
         Hell, even the name of the band - Every Time I Die - is absurd. How many times do you die? 

              I'm well aware that most of this is going to sound like BS, but this idea has been hopping around my head for quite some time, and I'd like to put it down on paper (or, in this case, the internet). I'm also tempted to believe this is the case because Buckley used to be an English teacher, so he's definitely at least a little versed in some philosophy.

PS Sorry about the weird formatting, not sure what happened.

Falls of Rauros are the perfect accompaniment to a rainy day

   

    Quick! Name five bands from Maine!
     It's harder than it sounds, and being the uninitiated falsie that I am, I've only recently found my first. During a trip to Montreal's only metal-oriented music store Profusion, I stumbled across a record adorned with a misty picture of a waterfall, and in minuscule print "FALLS OF RAUROS - THE LIGHT THAT DWELLS IN ROTTEN WOOD". As someone who's in the midst of an atmospheric black metal kick, this seemed to be the answer to my prayers. After being assured by the store owner that this was, indeed, an amazing record (thanks, Frank!), I anxiously ran home to give it a spin.
      Oh. My. God.
      From the first note of 'Earth's Timid Grace', Falls of Rauros deliver a stunningly primal attack on the senses. Where bands like Skagos and Gallowbraid have attempted to establish pure atmosphere, this Maine quartet have succeeded. Through masterful dichotomies of clean and distortion, melody and rythym, 'Awaiting the Fire or Flood that Awakens It' conjures up the misty, rain-soaked forests of Maine.
      This is an absolutely amazing record that somehow passed me by in 2011. Since then, the band has released a split with Panopticon (whose newest record Kentucky is also noteworthy), but otherwise has kept quiet about a new record. I'm currently scouring the internet and record stores for Falls of Rauros' first record Hail Wind and Hewn Oak (it's currently right behind Weakling's Dead as Dreams in my priorities). DO NOT SLEEP ON THIS BAND.

Noteworthy tracks: 'Silence', 'Banished'.

Watain and the Wild Hunt perfectly illustrates why I don't like metalheads

   

  I'm going to be totally honest here - I love heavy music. From the moment my dad first played me Led Zeppelin and the Clash when I was a lad, to now as I prowl the internet for obscure black metal bands, heavy music has been a part of my life since I was old enough to enjoy music. However, if there is one thing I cannot stand about it, especially extreme metal, it's the goddamn fans.
        The stereotypes are already there - metalcore fans are melodramatic "Christian" 16 year olds. Death metal fans are 25 and still live with their parents. Black metal fans are racist shutaways obsessed with forests and Norway. And while they are just that - stereotypes - there is a certain unifying theme to extreme metal fans: the inability to accept anything new.
         Change is a two-edged sword for most artists - on the one hand, they have cultivated a following of fans based on a specific sound. But on the other hand, the artist's interests may lie somewhere else. So what's one to do? If you choose the latter, it doesn't matter if you're Satyricon or Bring Me the Horizon, your fans will be pissed.
         That failure is compounded when you take what is potentially the most conservative and ruthlessly inaccessible of all metal genres - black metal - and attempt to progress. If a black metal band has the audacity to be anything besides just that, they are scorned as 'untrue' and 'sellouts' (Unless they're Dissection, but still). With that being said, enter Watain. The Swedish black metal outfit that began as a fairly uninteresting Third Wave BM act in 2000 with Rabid Death's Curse (okay, Casus Luciferi was pretty good). By the time 2005 rolled around, and black metal subgenres had begun to really differentiate and find their bearings (2006 saw Agalloch's Ashes Against the Grain), Watain had made it very clear they were setting their sights away from traditional black metal.
          Much to the 'trve' fan's chagrin, the band released their 2007 album Sworn to the Dark, which cemented the idea that the band wasn't content to worship Gorgoroth and continue producing lo-fi tremolo recordings. When it comes to black metal, Sweden has always had more of an eye for the limelight (think about it: Dark Funeral, Dissection, Marduk...), and while that might make Fenriz angry, it's undeniable.
           So it shouldn't have come as any surprise when Watain put out two remarkably un-kvlt albums. Sworn to the Dark was still a lot of fun - the crash of 'Darkness and Death' and hypnotic, headbang-inducing 'the Serpent's Chalice' makes for some incredibly enjoyable, if somewhat mindless black metal. Nevertheless, fans were disappointed by the departure from the sound of Casus Luciferi - and, normally, that's not much of an issue. You have ten or twenty particularly vocal detractors who publicly spout their anger on Facebook, but mostly people keep to themselves. But, again, this is black metal.
         We're talking about a genre that contains bands who actively suppress tabulatures from circulating, and where musicians fiercely guard their demos, releasing them to the public after 12-15 years (Xasthur, anyone?). The genre is built on secrecy and inaccessibility, and has been described by my non-metalhead friends as 'the most difficult music to listen to they've ever heard'. It's this uber-conservative nature that adds to the vitriol bands get when they perform black metal with a potentially more mainstream edge.
         Thus, you can imagine the mounting anger of the 'trve' neckbeards when 2010 came around and Lawless Darkness hit shelves. The lo-fi recording, which was absent on Sworn to the Dark, did not make a return. The band incorporated many more "mainstream" elements into their music - 'Reaping Death' is borderline catchy - and while there were still no breakdowns or clean vocals, fans were pissed.
          The pot finally came to a boil a few weeks ago when The Wild Hunt was released. The band's first album signed to Century Media, and since then the band has faced insane amounts of criticism. Some of the metalheads I'm friendly with have been spitting absolute venom at this record. Why? Because of this song. Hell, one of the comments on that youtube video is 'RIP WATAIN'.
          'They Rode On' is, for better or worse, an utter departure from the band's former style. It's been described as an 80s ballad - an anthem to hold your lighters up to and sway rythmically. Amidst a sea of BM fan tears, Erik Danielsson softly croons into a microphone 'they rode on...'.
           Opinion time: it's not bad. I personally wouldn't listen to it because it's not my kind of slow, but honest to goodness why care so strongly about this? It's a stylistic evolution. Just because Watain made this song doesn't mean Casus Luciferi ceased to exist. We're human beings, and free will is a wonderful thing.
            But wait, it gets better. Let's remember the album also features this amazing piece of work, which is one of my favorite Watain songs, and other great songs. If it's not clear, I do quite like the Wild Hunt. It did let me down in a few cases (I can't get into 'Outlaw'), but it's still a solid B in my book. In any case, the fact that people are fixating on one song, and a decision by the band to take Watain in another direction, is silly. It is a lot less dark than their other albums, but that's not a horrible thing.
             The problem is that black metal fans impose a strict sense of what's 'acceptable' for a BM band to do. Cradle of  Filth got (and continue to get) loads of shit because they're a bit more mainstream than Blut Aus Nord. Any stylistic elements that Darkthrone didn't include in A Blaze in the Northern Sky, unless they make the music more 'evil' or 'sinister', are instant 'sellout' moves. It's stupid because these people limit themselves to what they can listen to, and then turn around and become total douchenozzels by telling people they're not allowed to listen to band X because band X includes a bit of Metallica influence.
               What's unfortunate is that this phenomenon extends to a good chunk of metal fans. Facebook and Youtube comments for newer Watain (and Liturgy*, and pretty much any band that the neckbeard elite do not 'approve of') are a cesspool of hate for artists who just wanted to try different things. It's annoying to deal with these people in real life, because metal music is about brotherhood and the bonds you make with rejects like you, and people like that (as Sergeant D calls them, Internet Music Nerds) ruin it for everyone. And it's that inability to accept that something just isn't your cup of tea that makes me dislike a good amount of metalheads.


* I really don't like Liturgy. Aesthetica is the Justin Timberlake of tryhard hipster black metal - it tries to do everything and is laughably bad at all of it. Even funnier is Pitchfork calling them 'kvlt', but that's another blog post.