Nachash
3 吉他谱
0 求谱
0 拨片
Nachash专辑介绍
When a band names themselves after a drug that is as lethal as it is addictive, you expect some seriously sickening sounds to spew from your speakers. The drug, known scientifically as Desomorphine, is a derivative of morphine. Utilizes for its pain killing properties since its synthetic inception in Russia in 1932, it was terminated for medical purposes 1982. Side-effects have been devastating. Users have watched horrified as it ate away at their flesh, like a vulture on a fallen corpse in a dry, unforgiving desert, their skin disfigured into a sickening mangle of rot, muscle and bone.
The drug then began to garnish a certain degree of notoriety in the press in 2010 when it reared its ugly head in Russia’s black market, appropriated by users for recreational purposes at a price almost four times that of heroin and resulting in the kind of horror stories red top newspapers lust after. If a user misses a vein when injecting for instance, the toxicity of the iodine and phosphorus that are present after the drug’s synthesis can create abscesses and cause ‘death of the flesh’ surrounding the entry-point. That’s alongside the damaging of blood vessels and reducing bone to a mush like pulp, I might add.
All of this however, is well suited to metal’s oft gruesome exposé and consequently those aforementioned expectations that their name and its surrounding culture constitutes clings, like a parasite, to their debut record. Couple that with the band’s tag as a super group with lineage in Sikth, Gallows and Hexes – although the band are quick to diminish such a title, endeavouring to be judged in their own light – and it’s understandable that the metal world wants something substantial from Nachash. But does it live up to that?
The initial reaction drawn from you is that of their striking sonic similarities to the progressive sludge of Mastodon. Further, it justifies their place as main support to the Atlanta quintet on their UK tour this month. To dismiss – or praise, depending on your perception here – Krokodil as mere parodists though would be both cruel and narrow-minded. For many, those resemblances will no doubt form part of the appeal of this band, much like how AC/DC fans delight in Airbourne, but for the rest, there is plenty more on this band’s palette to savour. ‘Shatter’ and ‘Dead Man’s Path’ are the most decidedly Mastodon-esque thanks to their chord based, meandering nature, complete with the chime of a tinkling ride bell. They intersperse amongst it all, rather, they regurgitate the low-end, dense, grinding riffs of The Melvins to great effect. Their inspiration regarding those two bands runs deep in their festering blood but as I said, there is much more colour and vivid imagery stroked across their canvas than merely this and that’s what makes them so enjoyable.
You wade through their deep sound like a murky swamp, each track layered in a way that cloaks you in its mercurial darkness. Nuances dance about like moths to a fire in the dead of night and atop that mix lies Simon’s gilt-edge growls, a fitting metaphor for the savage side-effects of the namesake drug.
The dynamic rises and falls of ‘Sleep Well, Medusa’ are pure, ingenious chaos. It drops to echoic, celestial quiet before building mercilessly to a hurricane like climax. ‘Ragnarock’ is a gorgeous instrumental interlude, ‘The Collapse’ bears a mellow, lucidic beauty and ‘Reptilia Familiar’ is a proper ear-worm of a track with an almost Slipknot guise to it’s pre-chorus.
This is a very riff-centric album. The guitars are tuned down to B and executed with a warm yet chunky, mud-thick tone that’s all the better for it. On ‘Dead Man’s Path’ they build upon a grinding riff with cinematic strings and a crescendo capable of disintegrating the sturdiest of sound systems. ‘A Life Lived In Copper, But Painted In Gold’ again draws again upon sludgy, Melvins groove riffs, complimented by snare-heavy punk drumming before breaking out into slower, pit inducing passages. They merge frantic chaos with doomy elements superbly, giving Nachash a startlingly signature sound.
Considering the guttural, throat-shredding relentlessness of their music, to hear Biffy Clyro’s Simon Neil wrap his silky smooth vocals around the chorus of ‘Sun Riders’ is extremely surprising. He adds an entirely different dimension to the track which both exemplifies this bands vast creative expanse and gives the song a subtle commercial potential which will no doubt ram them into the faces of Biffy fans worldwide. It is a magnificently diverse song in that respect, evil yet hauntingly, beautifully melodic.
Nachash one of those albums that seems to pass by all too quickly. Not because it’s too short, but because it’s too much fun. Time appears to accelerate amid the battering riffs, gargling vocals and catastrophic rhythm section. As such, you return to for another fix, to get high off its revelry once more. You become addicted and it’s at this exact point you stop, crack a smile and think to yourself of the ease to which they have not only matched but surpassed all expectation that precedes this album.
The drug then began to garnish a certain degree of notoriety in the press in 2010 when it reared its ugly head in Russia’s black market, appropriated by users for recreational purposes at a price almost four times that of heroin and resulting in the kind of horror stories red top newspapers lust after. If a user misses a vein when injecting for instance, the toxicity of the iodine and phosphorus that are present after the drug’s synthesis can create abscesses and cause ‘death of the flesh’ surrounding the entry-point. That’s alongside the damaging of blood vessels and reducing bone to a mush like pulp, I might add.
All of this however, is well suited to metal’s oft gruesome exposé and consequently those aforementioned expectations that their name and its surrounding culture constitutes clings, like a parasite, to their debut record. Couple that with the band’s tag as a super group with lineage in Sikth, Gallows and Hexes – although the band are quick to diminish such a title, endeavouring to be judged in their own light – and it’s understandable that the metal world wants something substantial from Nachash. But does it live up to that?
The initial reaction drawn from you is that of their striking sonic similarities to the progressive sludge of Mastodon. Further, it justifies their place as main support to the Atlanta quintet on their UK tour this month. To dismiss – or praise, depending on your perception here – Krokodil as mere parodists though would be both cruel and narrow-minded. For many, those resemblances will no doubt form part of the appeal of this band, much like how AC/DC fans delight in Airbourne, but for the rest, there is plenty more on this band’s palette to savour. ‘Shatter’ and ‘Dead Man’s Path’ are the most decidedly Mastodon-esque thanks to their chord based, meandering nature, complete with the chime of a tinkling ride bell. They intersperse amongst it all, rather, they regurgitate the low-end, dense, grinding riffs of The Melvins to great effect. Their inspiration regarding those two bands runs deep in their festering blood but as I said, there is much more colour and vivid imagery stroked across their canvas than merely this and that’s what makes them so enjoyable.
You wade through their deep sound like a murky swamp, each track layered in a way that cloaks you in its mercurial darkness. Nuances dance about like moths to a fire in the dead of night and atop that mix lies Simon’s gilt-edge growls, a fitting metaphor for the savage side-effects of the namesake drug.
The dynamic rises and falls of ‘Sleep Well, Medusa’ are pure, ingenious chaos. It drops to echoic, celestial quiet before building mercilessly to a hurricane like climax. ‘Ragnarock’ is a gorgeous instrumental interlude, ‘The Collapse’ bears a mellow, lucidic beauty and ‘Reptilia Familiar’ is a proper ear-worm of a track with an almost Slipknot guise to it’s pre-chorus.
This is a very riff-centric album. The guitars are tuned down to B and executed with a warm yet chunky, mud-thick tone that’s all the better for it. On ‘Dead Man’s Path’ they build upon a grinding riff with cinematic strings and a crescendo capable of disintegrating the sturdiest of sound systems. ‘A Life Lived In Copper, But Painted In Gold’ again draws again upon sludgy, Melvins groove riffs, complimented by snare-heavy punk drumming before breaking out into slower, pit inducing passages. They merge frantic chaos with doomy elements superbly, giving Nachash a startlingly signature sound.
Considering the guttural, throat-shredding relentlessness of their music, to hear Biffy Clyro’s Simon Neil wrap his silky smooth vocals around the chorus of ‘Sun Riders’ is extremely surprising. He adds an entirely different dimension to the track which both exemplifies this bands vast creative expanse and gives the song a subtle commercial potential which will no doubt ram them into the faces of Biffy fans worldwide. It is a magnificently diverse song in that respect, evil yet hauntingly, beautifully melodic.
Nachash one of those albums that seems to pass by all too quickly. Not because it’s too short, but because it’s too much fun. Time appears to accelerate amid the battering riffs, gargling vocals and catastrophic rhythm section. As such, you return to for another fix, to get high off its revelry once more. You become addicted and it’s at this exact point you stop, crack a smile and think to yourself of the ease to which they have not only matched but surpassed all expectation that precedes this album.