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Have you ever quested through your infinite collection of CDs, only to find a few that take up space and will probably never enter your ears again due to lackluster content? This here will be one of those cursed items. Netherbird does bad business in musical terms, as their approach towards black metal leads them down a road of goth-influenced notes much like a black metal version of Cradle of Filth (how ironic) while basically kicking a dead horse, so to speak. I firmly believe this style of metal can have its benefits, but “The Ghost Collector” plods continuously and without positive reinforcement, adding very little substance or anything enjoyable at day’s end.
So, Netherbird attempts some strange mixture of melodic black metal entwined with slight gothic touches that, at times, can take total control over the primary systems mandating how “The Ghost Collector” operates. Their direction as a whole lacks solid ideas, creating an album of songs driven by keyboards and bland riffs done a million times before. Sadly, nothing really changes from this observation. As the record progresses, Netherbird begins a painful process of suicide due to their wonderful ability of not altering vanilla formations and keeping repetition at bay. However, all this pessimism is not to go without saying there are a handful of impressive riffs and musical patterns, such as “Blood Orchid” or “The Blackest Breed,” which are heavy, beautiful notes connecting the fallen lines of gothic tears and black metal together as they should be: heavy and beautiful. Overall though, one will easily see the goods are few and far between, which sucks, yet that’s the risk Netherbird took.
From then on, things just get colder and colder. Slow songs ranging from pathetic to downright miserable begin tainting the picture with unoriginal tremolo pickings, boring mid-paced sections, vocals that don’t the musical situation, and generally poor directions on a poetic spectrum. “The Ghost Collector” finally ends on its lowest note throughout “Boulevard Black,” which proves Netherbird cannot write concrete anthems without pushing themselves into redundant territories. I mean who wants to hear a fourteen-minute cut of watered-down musicianship and meandering formulas? Ironically, this horrendous tune captures the sole philosophy behind Netherbird’s debut: take half-assed black metal, stir in gothic feces, cook for a few minutes, and finally indulge.
Ah shit, another invisible attempt at melodic black metal. This time, it’s a bird from Hell: Netherbird! A lame joke indeed, but that’s exactly the point: Netherbird has little aiding them in battle throughout “The Ghost Collector,” because this album stays in its non-evolutionary status from an obsolete introduction to a fourteen-minute flop of embarrassing proportions. “The Ghost Collector” matches mediocrity in its truest form, so I don’t suggest purchasing this CD unless you’ve got brass balls and a will to spend your money on risk rather than guaranteed substance. Some improvement wouldn’t be a bad thing at all, you crazy birds of Hell you.
This review was written for: www.Thrashpit.com