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Nevermore > Dead Heart in a Dead World > Reviews > hells_unicorn
Nevermore - Dead Heart in a Dead World

The Royal Seal Of Gayness (17th in class) - 27%

hells_unicorn, September 9th, 2016
Written based on this version: 2000, CD, Century Media Records

Mistaking homophones, or words that sound the same but have very different meanings, is usually a hallmark of those learning a new language or maybe a handful of conspiracy theorist types who wish to infer common meanings between two words from two entirely unrelated languages in order to sell some version of reality that would even make Agent Steel blush. However, there is a case to be made that this is also a fairly common occurrence for those who follow Nevermore's much lauded "middle period" (aka between the self-titled debut and Enemies Of Reality), mistaking something being great when instead it is simply grating. While there is a case to be made for any of the three albums in question being among the worst things to come out of the groove metal craze, their turn-of-the-millennium, preachy as hell fourth LP Dead Heart In A Dead World is where most media and fan boy praise tends to congregate. Though there is a certain logic as to why this album tends to be the most praised, the musical results are an exercise in pure torture.

This was the first album to feature the production input of Andy Sneap, who's signature sound became synonymous with the superior output that would ensue following this album, and it comes with a certain degree of crispness and clarity that is one of the few upsides to this album. Granted, Nevermore's issues were never with production values, but with songwriting and vocal execution. In said respect, this album contains elements of The Politics Of Ecstasy's occasional thrashing fury as well as Dreaming Neon Black's melodramatic balladry, with maybe a slightly greater affinity for the latter, but a lyrical approach that is about as pompous and sententious as can be. This isn't to say that a call for proportionality in the American justice system on issues of drug use as noted in "Inside Four Walls" or concerns of environmental destruction on "The River Dragon Has Come" are mistaken or not worthy of consideration via song, but Warrel Dane's tortured bellowing and almost arrhythmic lyrics turn a valid point into a revolting display of self-righteous pontificating. For all of the lousy music that Geoff Tate has put out either on his own or during the latter days of Queensryche, not to mention a long time of cigarette smoking, he never reached the sort of haggard sounding sloppiness on display here.

The songwriting generally follows the same frustrating formula that took hold of this outfit in 1996, namely starting things off on a relatively strong note and then immediately degenerating into repetitious drudgery. The opening song "Narcosynthesis" is a classic illustration of this, starting off with a fairly animated and engaging thrasher of a riff that is admittedly groove oriented given the deep notes employed by Loomis' newly acquired 7-string guitar. But as soon as Dane's vocals prepare to hit the scene, the hypnotic one/two note chugging commences to clear the way for the lyrics. That's sort of the problem with vocals-oriented metal, everything is slavishly devoted to either filling space when the vocals are absent (ironically the small spaces where this band sounds remotely decent), or dumbing itself down to the lowest common denominator so that the vocals are fully exposed. Granted, if Dane would construct some melodic material that was coherent and not garbled by melodramatic shouts and wails, it would be considerably less of an issue.

The aforementioned opening song, along with parallel ones found in "Engines Of Hate" and "Behind Four Walls" are generally the best displays on this album, largely because they don't get bogged down in poorly executed ballad sections and have some semblance of riff work going when Dane rests his shredded vocal chords. "We Disintegrate" would be of a similar persuasion, but Dane actually makes a tragic attempt at revisiting his Refuge Denied days during the verse and ends up channeling a banshee with a leprechaun crammed up its ass. Surprisingly enough, there is also a fair degree of riff intrigue and frenzied goodness from the rhythm section on the twisted remake of "The Sound Of Silence", which literally sounds nothing like the original, but more like one of those few moments of modern thrashing brilliance that would pop out of Pantera every now and then in the mid-90s mixed with a bit more noodling. The rest of the album is generally locked in ballad territory, plodding along slowly and ultimately defeating its own purpose given how anti-melodic Warrel's vocals come off.

One positive thing that could be said for this album is that it doesn't drink the nu-metal flavorade, though some of the slower material like "Believe In Nothing" get a little too close for comfort and it wouldn't be a surprise to see a lot of people of said generation having this as a token album alongside the entire KoRn and Limp Dickshit discographies. It wobbles along a rather tenuous line between being lazy and being incoherent, yet time-compressed for radio and MTV propagation where most tend not to care if music is good or even catchy, but rather short and not requiring much thought. That's probably the one truly off-putting thing about this band, there is no accounting for subtlety, no clear sense of cadence, just a mechanistic ordering of fragmented ideas with occasional fits of technical prowess. In short, Dead Heart In A Dead World listens like a retarded computer from a really stupid Sci-Fi flick.