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There is no mistaking Trust No One as a Devildriver incitement. From the recognisable throat scarring vocals squalls of Dez Fafara to the anthemic rhythmic antagonism of bassist Diego Ibarra and drummer Austin D’Amond, through the grooved and sonically caustic imagination of guitarists Mike Spreitzer and Neal Tiemann to the pure carnivorous roar of the groove metaller’s sound, the Californian’s seventh album is familiar Devildriver animosity. Yet there is something different to the beast; its body slimmer, almost stripped back to the core elements of the band’s sound whilst its contagion of venomous grooves has become even more creatively vocal and more virulently compelling. Whether Trust No One in this state is the band’s best proposal to date is under debate but it is fair to say that the album might just be the most physically and emotionally enjoyable encounter with Devildriver yet.
Linking up with producer Mark Lewis again at the Audio Hammer Studios, Devildriver show their intent from the first seconds of opener Testimony Of Truth, the want to savage the senses with hellacious rock ‘n’ roll. An inviting groove winds around the initial hefty jabs of D’Amond first with already the climate of the song a fiery challenge which only imposes further as the song evolves and Fafara’s raw tones further fire up the spirit of the song. It is prime Devildriver incitement but already devilish designs of melody and grooving is gripping the imagination, bringing individual character to each twist and turn here and in due course, to each subsequent proposal within Trust No One.
The thick and potent start is quickly surpassed by the barbarous exploits of Bad Deeds. The torrential assault of the invasive beats and the ear accosting rapping nature of the vocals aligns perfectly with a sultry melodic weave spun by the guitars within their own corrosive tide of predacious riffs. It is gripping stuff, irresistible hostility fuelled by a drama and imagination individual to that of the band’s previous outings. The track’s impressive success is soon matched by that of the even more grievous My Night Sky, though its own animus of emotion and intensity is tempered by the equally potent magnetism colouring the web of sonic invention and suggestiveness.
Three tracks in and already the senses are numbing and energies breathless such the force and creative weight of the tempests. No respite is given though as This Deception, from a waspish coaxing round melancholic keys, tears into the listener with nostrils flared over a rabid rhythmically jagged ire spewing jaw and in turn, Above It All crawls all over the senses and into the psyche with what can be best described as a swarming surge of ravenous belligerence and aural irritability. Both tracks are not short on their own array of expectations defusing and imagination sparking essences either, the first through seductively flirtatious grooves and the latter with exotically hued strings and melodies which entice and bewitch even within the raging storm of the outstanding ravishment.
Daybreak spins some bluesy grooves into its maelstrom next, they colluding with addictively heavier cousins as riffs and vocals unite for some savaging with the backing of infectiously mercurial rhythms. Spreitzer and Tiemann simply shine throughout Trust No One, here especially as they conjure a landscape as unpredictable and fascinating as it is blistering, while in the album’s title track, they help shape a tempest as sonically elegant as it is uncomfortably threatening.
Arguably the nastiest and most uncomfortable track on the release is Feeling Ungodly, though it too is unafraid to spring some of the catchiest grooves and hooks across the whole of Trust No One while devouring the senses in body and emotion. Again, it is hard not to be swept up by the spiteful air and invasively infectious nature of the excellent track before Retribution grows from a melodically alluring proposal into one which nags and growls like a rabid dog infested with the inescapable irritancy of niggly grooves and the biting incessancy of beats and riffs. It is an irresistible incursion followed with equal ferocity and compelling adventure by For What Its Worth and an adversarial and merciless sonic malefaction which might not quite live up to many of its predecessors but leaves only a craving for more.
As we said at the start, whether Trust No One is Devildriver’s final hour we cannot say yet, even after a dozen listens, but it is hard to remember many encounters with them bringing as much raw enjoyment and the same kind of urge to go straight back into the turbulence as their new album.
Trust No One is out now via Napalm Records on CD @ http://devildrivertrustnoone.com/ and digitally @ https://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/trust-no-one/id1091651702?app=music&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
http://www.devildriver.com/ https://www.facebook.com/devildriver
Pete Ringmaster 13/05/2016
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
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Things only get more compelling and furious with the following Ends Of A Shadow, its initial riffs a thickly alluring bait of invasive resonance. Swiftly southern hues seep from the track’s rabid pores too, a Pantera/Down like flavouring spicing up an already greedy appetite for the encounter. The great mix of vocal delivery from Gabbo and Pancio is a magnetic pull on its own; their tones embracing every shade of clean, guttural, and psychotic even occasionally encroaching on a Burton C. Bell toning. There is a touch of Fear Factory to the music at times too within, with both guitarists weaving a masterful challenge and seduction, a more melodic/nu metal-esque hue.
The EP opens with Failsafe and immediately has ears enticed with its spicy guitar coaxing and then under siege by a wall of hungry riffs and barbarous rhythms. It is all conducted by the ferocious tones of vocalist Alex O’Leary, his searing squalls almost visibly scarring his throat as they enjoyably abrase ears. There is equally a swing to his delivery, a devilish catchiness which is even stronger in the web of fiery grooves that entangle ears and appetite amidst the rampant aggression of Paul Cashman’s rhythmic swings. The carnivorous growl of David Cleere’s bass is simply delicious in the mix as too the wonderfully nagging tapestry of metal and punk grooves and riffs cast by guitarist Chris Harte. The track is a glorious start to the release, and maybe the most virulently infectious slab of abuse heard in a long time.
Cities Of Gold is arguably even more primal and inhospitable than its predecessor; vocals spewing malice with every syllable and the instantly captivating grooves spreading toxicity with very swing of their body within another tempest of emotional and aural animosity. To that though, a perpetually virulent infectiousness flows and in time, a melodic seduction from keys and guitar which is as bracing and invigorating as the animus of confrontation surrounding it. The opener grabbed ears and appetite, its successor trapped both, and by The Reign Of Tyrants, it is fair to say that band and EP had these ears enslaved. Thrash metal is never too far from the textures of death and extreme metal, and drives the third track with open eagerness, though things soon become a part of A thick tapestry of flavours and rabid intent as unpredictable as it is enthralling. Compared to the previous pair, it also has less urgency to its devouring; a more reserved violence to its assault that only makes it more dangerous and captivating.
I often wonder when a band stops or goes on a hiatus and then returns sometimes years later, how much is feeling like there is unfinished business, how much is working through issues and then members coming to a mutual kinship again, and how much is simply as a music fan being inspired by other’s great releases to go again or to show some how it should be done…any apply to AHC?
Can you tell us about the themes running through Tango Umbrella and certain songs?
Lords Of War follows with its haunting voice and descriptively evocative mystique. The sounds of invasive force and subjugation litter the disturbed ambience of the track, its portentous inevitability exploding in a tirade of riffs and merciless rhythms as vocals flirt with and dance on the assaultive intent. Gripping body and thoughts, the song epitomises the Otep ability to reflect the object of their lyrical attack in tone and sound whilst simultaneously placing it under attack by the same.
Buckfast For Breakfast opens the album, an easily relatable repetitive vocal sample the spark to a wall of cantankerous riffs and rapier like rhythms. It is a senses trespassing confrontation, swiftly bound and veined by wiry grooves with richly engaging toxicity to their wandering sonic hands. The raw vocal squalling of Nat Gavin adds to the intrusive hostility tempering the melodic flirtation and the instinctive swing to the track’s stalking gait. It is an ear gripping start firmly backed by the blues intoxication and fiery rock ‘n’ roll of Losing Things. With Gavin’s caustic delivery, tracks are inevitably going to challenge with attitude loaded animosity yet as proven here, The Bendal Interlude merge it skilfully with a melodic/stoner prowess and addictive sonic contagion which gives every assault a captivating and inviting personality.