Mastodon "Crack the Skye"

Oblivion
Album produced by Brendan O'Brien well known for producing albums by Pearl Jam and others from the Seattle grunge era - this track in particular reminds me of Alice in Chains. The frenetic metal guitars blaze in and out but its the vocals more specifically that remind me of Layne Staley from Alice in Chains. The more subtle opening vocals give way to a louder more cynical vocal style. This tradeoff between the two vocal styles is pure Alice. Even the gymnastic guitar work makes me think of Jerry Cantrell although the multi-layered solo/instrumental part in this song is a little more complex than what Cantrell did on albums like Dirt or Sap.

Divinations
This one makes me think of Blizzard of Ozz-era Ozzy more than anything else after a delicate string opening. The vocals have changed in tone here and are actually more harsh and angry. But the harmonizing is total Ozzy. Clearly this band's trademark is the complex mulit-layred solos as even this has one even though it clocks in at 3:37.

Quintessance
A quiet moody opening that builds with multiple guitar parts seemingly going in many different directions simultaneously. Here we get a little bit more of a gothik metal rock sound with haunting background vocals and the pleading "Let it Go" chorous. All of these tracks are so dominated by the guitars it seems like every track has 3 or even 4 guitars in it. With the heavy guitar chords as a recurring theme the song seems to reference Black Sabbath while intertwining some of the heavier Soundgarden and Melvins-era grunge records. Kim Thayil seems to be playing in the background at times. Spooky scary metal vocals reappear in the background towards the end. Brann Dailor, lead vocals and drums is clearly a great talent as a drummer. His pounding and time keeping are very strong.

The Czar: I. Usurper II. Escape III. Martyr IV Spiral
Bleeding seemlessly into this suite the passion builds into this forboding tale of vanquished power and death. Vocals wail in the background as the stage is set for the execution of Czar Nicholas in 1917 during the Bolshevik Revolution. A song describing such carnage and the brutal killing of the Czar and his family, this execution has long been a subject for historians to obsess over and to investigate this historical event and extrapolate it as a musical theme reminds me of Slayer's exploration of the Holocaust in South of Heaven. A long metal suite with multiple changes also makes me think of prog-rock and self-important drivel and this track veers perilously close to that territory. The making of the devil-horns with one's hand while listening to music of this ilk is something usually done in jest and implies that whatever music that's being played is not to be taken seriously. Mastodon would shake with rage if one were to do this in front of them - unless it was done seriously - which is very possible given the legions of metalheads loyally following their favorite bands. The song does seem to have a tight and easy to follow narrative structure and is very well played. The Mastodon guys are very accomplished musicians. Punk rock this ain't. Mick Jones wouldn't know his way around most of these guitar parts.

Ghosts of Karelia
Beginning with soft charms tinkling, the razor-sharp guitars quickly slice into the song then retreat into the background to support the vocals. The guitars spin with emphasis counteracting the ethereal vocals. But this seemingly benign "ghost" seems to turn evil at 1:55 as Dailor's style turns angry (hey, this is metal baby) like a wraith woken from its eternal sleep. The guitars support his emphasis and accuse the listener of intruding. Underneath it all is Dailor's powerful drumming that takes all the metal of Jon Bonham and runs in the direction of Soundgarden or Alice in Chains. As the song fades out a spaceship like guitar-synth part takes off into space.

Crack the Skye
This track seems to be an even bolder statement than the rest of the material. A clear sense of importance pervades this track more than the others. The band jams for the first minute until Dailor jumps in with devil-like vocals that give way to soaring melodies in the chorus. Not for the faint-hearted but vivid in drawing out the conflict between heaven and hell. Echoes of Yes and other prog-rock effects spiral this track into a spacey-netherworld that almost makes my stomach turn as if riding a rollercoaster. But back to earth when the guitars slap you out of your reverie and the soaring heavenly chorus returns followed by the devil-throat-scream of the vocals. I give this band credit for painting a clear picture of a story with their music and lyrics.

The Last Baron
Another seemless transition from track to track - this album is truly an album meant to be listened to as one opus and not as individual tracks. A questionable strategy in this era of individual song downloading - good luck with that one. The song's subject references a fading away regal character who strikes out partially out of fear as much as vengance. Clocking in at over 13 powerful minutes the song undergoes a phenomenal change at around the 3:30 mark as all of the instruments drop out save for one desperate guitar and then the rest of the band jumps back in (after presumably finishing a cigarette or a beer) and the track continues to rock on. The jamming in this track is unequaled anywhere else on this album. Much of this must have been improvised in the studio as the interplay between the guitars and drums is very strong in the latter half of this song. Dailor's vocals (way down in the mix now) are obscured by the guitars wailing throughout. The guitar changes and styles also vary here more than anywhere else on Crack the Skye as the steam locomotive guitar of Soundgarden returns here to sing the praises of the doomed (to death we assume) last Baron. With about 4 minutes to go the chorus and guitars slow before building again - driven by the drums and Troy Sanders' bass. Yet another change with 3 minutes left as the music grows softer with Dailor's vocals even wistful. One can almost imagine the Last Baron looking out over his forgotten kingdom from a roof-level stone window in his castle thinking about "what might have been". As the song winds down I can't help but feel sorry for the Last Baron and his loneliness. His wife dead, no children to speak of he gets on his horse and rides off into obscurity a failed man with a broken heart.

River Runs Red

While at Fifth Colvmn Records, I would make frequent trips from our "main office" in Washington, DC up to New York City to meet with Jared, the label General Manager and Chemlab head honcho as well as Brian McNelis, our indefatigable marketing consultant. Although Brian was based in California, he made trips to New York City semi-annually and we were happy to schedule meetings around him. Making this trip up from DC would be myself, and Zalman, of course, the leader, sometime sugar-daddy and enabler. Zalman was the logistics man for these trips. It would be Zalman's mode of transport, his timetable and inevitably his dime since the rest of us were not really earning enough of a salary to put together these NYC trips on a whim. In fact, I always admired the way Zalman would often piece together accomodations and other arrangements while in the car on the drive up. The first call would be to Brandy his travel agent. This guy must've been on call 24 hrs a day/7 days a week as it seemed Zalman never got Brandy's voicemail and was never disappointed. Perhaps this could be because Zalman had lots of money to play around with and was not exactly looking for a last minute deal only last minute options. While Zalman's financial situation began to change over the years (the subject of a future blog post) in the early days of FCR, Brandy's last minute fixes would lead us to suites not just hotels.

For the purposes of this post we found ourselves at the opulent and elegant Roger Smith Suites. Not someplace where you'd expect to find an Industrial Rock mogul and his "team" but we stunk up the joint anyway for a couple of days. We each, of course, had our own room and being that Zalman was the label owner, the suite I shared with Zalman was a little larger so that we could host the actual meetings for the 4 of us. This would've been the very early days of the label's history so I don't believe Todd was on board at this point. In fact, the last time the FCR staff was in New York together prior to this story, we witnessed one of our colleagues overdose on heroin. But with business to discuss, we plowed through a full day of marketing, operations, deal making, legal and financial talk. The label was just starting to become a real (albeit short-lived) business and most of our discussions were very basic.

After a full day of this and the appropriate drinking, dining and attending of gigs that followed, we prepared to return to Washington, DC the next morning. With all of us gathering in our suite to say goodbye and offer final thoughts we piled into the elevator to check out in the downstairs lobby. As we made our way to the street however, we noticed an inordinate amount of activity out on Lexington Avenue. In fact, a rather large crowd of people had gathered in a semi-circle around the building where the police had closed part of Lex. In the middle of this semi-circle was a large yellow shapeless tarp with a thick, viscous red river flowing slowly towards the curb. The tarp did not give away what it was covering but the crowd of people, the river of thick red liquid and the police detail gave it away. Some poor soul had evidently decided to end their life right there at the Roger Smith. I guess the service was a little short of exemplary. But the shock of this violent scene knocked our group a little silly especially considering the last time we had been together in NYC we also witnessed a dead body - at least this time it wasn't the dead body of a friend.
"Oh God " Jared hoarsely whispered.
"Shit", echoed Zalman with emphasis.
I'm pretty sure we were all thinking about Craig, our friend and co-worker who had od'd just 4 months prior in this same city, when we made sense of the carnage outside on the street in front of the Roger Smith. There was no easy way to say it nor any real need to bring it up as it was clear on the face of each us as we saw NYC's finest noting details of the scene and keeping curiosity seekers back behind the guardrails, that NYC seemed like a cruel and violent city from witnessing these two bloody and deadly acts taking place within months of each other. We exited the hotel each heading our own separate ways. Even though none of use knew the person who had flung themselves out a window of the hotel that morning it left an impression on each of us as if we had.