Unholy cardinals, power vocals, raging battle cries, sludgy doom, and even the type of rock that requires being draped in multiple bohemian scarves: this list has it all, in no particular order, proving that, at least in 2018, rock music was far from dead.
It shows a lot of optimism that Steel Druhm’s review of Desolation for Angry Metal Guy considers Khemmis “early in their career” when so many bands release a couple of albums and an EP and disappear. But it’s hard not to share that optimism about Khemmis: both of their previous albums found their way on to many year-end lists, showing off an enviable career trajectory that shows no signs of dipping. The band keeps it tight with six tracks, most stretching out anywhere from 6 to 9 minutes of oozing doom metal, like wet silt in slow motion. Moments of stereotypical cookie-monster growls can retard the album’s momentum (“Maw of Time“) but the album never loses its grounding in Ben Hutcherson’s soaring vocals. In Decibel Magazine, he attributes the band’s success to the healthy competition that ignites proverbial fires underneath simmering inspiration, separating the hobbyists from the die-hards. With this pattern of hard work, reflected in both the members’ personal and professional lives, it’s easy to get swept up in the hopes that this really is just the beginning, in the possibility that there could be work comparable to, or even surpassing, Hunted and this year’s Desolation; I trust the far-more knowledgeable Angry Metal Guys and look forward to hearing more great things from this band in the years to come.
Atreyu: In Our Wake
There’s only one reason to return to a band you had already written off as dead years ago, and that’s in the hopes that they are still capable of resurrecting the same passion they conjured at the beginning of their career. But Atreyu aren’t interested in nostalgia, and you have to respect their determination to move forward, rather than re-live glory days. In Our Wake sounds nothing like Suicide Notes and Butterfly Kisses or The Curse; it sounds, instead, like sonic alchemy, the perfect combination of Avenged Sevenfold (who make a brief appearance here) and old Killswitch Engage, an aggression mixed with melodic highs never short on a couple of trademark screams. Post-hardcore might seem like a sub genre with limits — those limits having been hunted in the mid 00s to extinction — but the most ambitious bands no longer scrape the barrels of stand-bys, instead incorporating the spiraling rise and falls of slick, Mutt Lange-era metal with intense riffs (and here an unfortunate caveat: the terrible lyrics to go with it). It’s probably too mainstream to gain any wider recognition in the world of hard rock, but Lange had no shortage of haters in the 80s either.
The revelation of the identities of the erudite lead singer and former Not-So-Nameless Ghouls of Ghost through the latter’s legal dispute seems to have freed something in Tobias Forge, the mastermind behind “Circe” and “Square Hammer.” The stage is opulent, the costumes razor-sharp, and the music particularly laser-focused. While previous albums mostly relied on the Satanic shtick to conceal very universal human conditions (as James Poniewozik noted, “Religion makes great material for horror stories”), Prequelle has a very personal resonance masquerading under the larger umbrella-concept of The Black Plague. This concept can be read as the story of Forge’s betrayal by those in whom he placed a lot of trust, from the album’s lead single “Rats,” (disease-carrying, and human-variety) to “Faith” (not specifically ecumenical trust), all the way down to “Pro Memoria”‘s promise of otherworldly vengeance, an ashes-to-ashes promise that comes for us all. Along the way, we get catchy hooks and giant choruses that evoke everything from disco (“Dance Macabre“) to jazzy saxophones (“Miasma”), wrapped in the band’s signature riffs and guitar solos. It’s their poppiest, most accomplished album to date, one that pays close attention to visuals and storytelling, and rewards repeated listens. The genius of Ghost was never the secrecy, though it did parallel a certain sensual mystery to a religion historically obsessed with such opulence, but the very real man behind the music who is finally reaching the full glory of his potential, and the recognition that comes with it.
Ever since Kent, Sweden’s greatest band, announced they were breaking up, there’s been a hole where all the best moody, electronic-influenced rock music used to reside. Judging by their last couple of albums, nobody would have guessed that Canadian rockers Caravane were capable of carrying the torch, but Supernova proves that the band is still on a quest to find their perfect sound. Unlike the more sedate Fuego or Chien Noir, Supernova is as big as its name implies: for the first time Caravane releases all the drama and passion absent on their earlier efforts. Huge, sublime numbers like “Karma,” capture rage without sacrificing the kind of cool that makes it all seem effortless, while the near-perfect “Hong Kong” blends it all with the melancholy sheen of the album’s slower moments. Discovery is around any corner, and Caravane sound like they finally stumbled upon the most important one they’ve been looking for: purpose.
Brainstorm: Midnight Ghost
Normally, a band that’s been around for eighteen years won’t have many rabbits left in their hat, but every once in a while, that axiom gets blown to pieces. While Brainstorm’s twelfth album Midnight Ghost doesn’t break any new ground, this German metal band gamely sing for their supper in a concise crash course in Metal, blazing through big tracks as reliable as they are heavy. Album standout “Jeanne Boulet (1764)” captures the essence of this band at their best: storytellers with a penchant for those Iron Maiden tales, funneling something novel into what would otherwise be nothing more than rote homage. It doesn’t get any more classic than this.
Visigoth: Conqeuror’s Oath
Power metal now has such a long, storied history, that it seems almost impossible to wring anything new out of the genre. But all of the clashing swords and medieval castles are just window-dressing on Visigoth’s new album Conqueror’s Oath. A true power metal album preoccupied with sorcery and adventure, the album’s opener “Steel and Silver” sets the tone with brisk guitar licks and dynamic vocals gliding over drum beats marching you straight to war. It’s the geekiest album on this list, but its dedication to capturing the authentic spirit of what Steel Druhm at Angry Metal Guy calls “olde timey metal magic” is unequal. Not bad for a band that hails not from the frosty, medieval hills of Eastern Europe, but a little town nicknamed The Beehive State.
Michael Romeo: War of the Worlds, Pt. 1
All things in moderation is sound advice, up to a point, but if Romeo had taken those words to heart, we never would have gotten War of the Worlds, Pt. 1, this year’s finest melding of metal and symphony. The album is the incendiary follow-up to 1994’s The Dark Chapter, and is propelled by Romeo’s singular brand of excess; heavy, fast, and perpetually accelerating, the album exploits every instrument in its arsenal, not the least of which is its orchestral elements ripped from the heads of stated influences John Williams and Bernard Hermann, and guitar solos that rip through songs with the speed and choreography of a big-budget action flick. The follow up, War of the Worlds Pt. 2, is already long-awaited and if even half as good, is expected to blow out eardrums in a set of headphones near you.
The Amity Affliction: Misery
Over time, some genres end up sounding more dated than others. Post-hardcore/metalcore can be one of those genres, perhaps because it still lives in enough embarrassing collective memories of the years your bangs covered half your face and wearing a button-down with the collar popped out beneath a T-shirt was a great look. The Amity Affliction doesn’t have time to wait long enough for these memories to become wistful, rather than cringe-worthy, and so they soldier on, unleashing their inner Hawthorne Heights like they did from the very beginning. And despite all of the odds, it works beautifully. The band really excels at teasing out all of the genre’s strongest elements, from the exclamation point of chugging growls to the quiet declarative verses, like “Burn Alive,” or the album’s title track “Misery,” which bounces expertly back and forth between the two. It’s like 2007 all over again, but it feels so good.
With Greta Van Fleet causing a commotion in the world of classic rock, it’s easy to overlook Sweden’s bumper crop of classic-rock revivalists. The country has been hard at work churning out a roster of Thin Lizzy/AC/DC sound-alikes to the tune of Honeymoon Disease, Travelin Jack, Hallas, and Spiders. But the best of these this year is Thundermother’s self-titled album, a brash, energetic distillation of this updated sound. The group sounds less like a parody than a band enjoying the heck out of their favorite type of music. There’s no shortage of this type of sound (really, there’s no shortage of any type of sound anymore, if you look hard enough), but Thundermother make themselves easy to spot among the long-haired, vest-wearing, scarf-trailing stadium crowd.
Greta Van Fleet: Anthem of the Peaceful Army
No rock debut has been as divisive this year as Greta Van Fleet’s Anthem of the Peaceful Army. Pitchfork opens its review with this damning lead: “Greta Van Fleet sound like they did weed exactly once, called the cops, and tried to record a Led Zeppelin album before they arrested themselves.” Rolling Stone acknowledges the band’s shortcomings (though they seem to save the most pointed vitriol for the members’ ages), but admits that “there’s also a charm to their guileless, retro-fetishist conviction. And dudes have chops,” in the very definition of a back-handed compliment. While RS’s review wants to be more forgiving, both illustrate the problem with the gate-keeping impulse of “true” music fans, the kind who have forgotten how to enjoy anything remotely commercial and not oozing authenticity. It’s not surprising, but it’s disappointing. Mostly, I think people hate Greta Van Fleet because they look like they’re trying a little too hard in the wardrobe department, as if the only thing Led Zeppelin ever cared about was the music, man. It’s a shame because this album is a fun tribute, with fiery vocals and propulsive drive, and if it all feels just a little too derivative, well, it’s not like the band is pretending otherwise. That’s more than anyone can say for publications trafficking in a deluge of tobacco and pop star-endorsing ads while claiming to hold the higher ground.
Rising: Sword and Scythe
Satan: Cruel Magic
Crying Steel: Stay Steel
Spiders: Killer Machine
Amorphis: Queen of Time