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Ocean Machine > Biomech > Reviews > Djol
Ocean Machine - Biomech

An Auspicious Start - 92%

Djol, May 27th, 2010

This entry inaugurates my run through all the major releases of Devin Townsend’s solo career discography (though I am absenting myself from reviewing both Devlab and The Hummer, Townsend’s two completely ambient/drone releases). Devin Townsend has long been one of the hardest working men in heavy metal, and absolutely one of the most talented, rating extremely highly in the categories of guitar playing, songwriting, singing, screaming, and producing; the fact that this, his first solo album (originally released under the name Ocean Machine with the album title Biomech), is so excellent is magnified approximately one million-fold when you stop to remember that 1997 was also the year in which Strapping Young Lad (Devin’s “proper” band, though now defunct) released their skullcrushing (and never topped, by themselves or any one else in industrial-tinged heavy fucking metal) beast of a sophomore album, City. Dude’s pretty busy, I guess is what I’m saying.

As I already mentioned, although this eventually saw a reissue under Devin’s own name, it was originally released under the band name Ocean Machine. This wouldn’t really matter much, except that the album actually sounds relatively different from most of Townsend’s other solo (or should we say solo-ish?) works. To be fair, the differences are slight – it’s not like you’d throw this on and mistake it for Dream Theater, Malevolent Creation, or John Coltrane – but I think it’s still worth noting. To my ears, the two biggest differences between Ocean Machine – Biomech and Devy’s other solo stuff are the songwriting and the placement of his vocals. Though it doesn’t follow this outline perfectly, I’m going to suggest as a tentative argument that his solo works became gradually more intricate and complex over time, so that by the time we get to Synchestra, we’re hit with banjo breakdowns and tuba-led polka interludes. Following this notion, then, it stands to reason that Ocean Machine – Biomech is among the simpler of Devin’s solo recordings; I will say that this is true, but that I don’t mean that by way of criticism. This is, quite frankly, a tremendous album, and which I only hesitate to call astounding because it is exceeded in brilliance by a few of Townsend’s later solo albums (full discographic reviews to follow).

Much of this album is, as I’ve already suggested, relatively simple or straight-forward in comparison to later works; many of the songs (particularly from the album’s first two-thirds or so) are based around melodic yet rhythmic riff-figures (I wouldn’t quite call them “riffs,” per se) which are subsequently swathed in backing synths and multi-tracked choral vocals (most of which are provided by Devin himself). One of the reasons this album stands apart from others by (or including) Townsend is that his vocals seem somewhat less upfront in the mix; they are still central, of course, but they blend in a bit more with the overall tone of the instrumentation than in other albums. This tactic works extremely well in the context of this batch of songs, but because Devin’s vocals are one of the major attractions for me, I can’t help but prefer other albums in which the vocals are more centrally highlighted.

Of course it is a hopeless cliche when reviewing albums, but it really is true that the whole of Ocean Machine is much greater than the sum of its individual songs. The effect that this music has, I would say, is less to impress with virtuosity or produce particular standout songs, and more to induce a particular mood of overwhelming calmness. I know it seems counter-intuitive, because this IS a heavy metal album after all, but I think the overall tonal effect, which is furthermore amplified by the songwriting, is to induce a relatively sedate, nearly meditative state in the listener. Because this is the case, I don’t feel that there are any tracks on here which absolutely jump out at the listener more than any others, although there are certainly moments that stand out. I love the massively reverbed bass drum that carries the intro of album opener “Seventh Wave,” for example, and I particularly enjoy the overlapping of live drumming and programmed percussion on “Voices in the Fan,” which also features an outro featuring a choral chamber quartet singing what sounds like either sacred vespers or leftovers from some of Therion’s more recent studio shenanigans (Secret of the Runes – Lemuria/Sirius B, particularly).

The second track, “Life,” is a bit too bouncy, almost veering into a pop mawkishness, but this slight misstep soon fades from memory, given that the album’s first four tracks seem to function as a suite, each flowing smoothly into the next, and only really seeing closure with “Sister,” which surrounds its acoustic guitar in noisy harmonics and digital chatter. In terms of notable songs, “Greetings” is really the first place to finally feature some truly epic, grandiose riffing and stirring chord progressions. Think of these progressions as the polar opposite of the equally-stirring minor tri-tone riff which opens “Black Sabbath” (from Black Sabbath, by Black Sabbath – gotta love it); maybe these chords are Devin’s attempt to stretch back a helping hand to Ozzy in 1970, rescuing him from existential dread (“Oh no, no, please God help me!”). “Regulator” is probably the heaviest song here, but it stays pretty midpaced throughout, and Devin’s highest-pitched screams are fairly muted in the overall texture of the piece.

I wouldn’t quite call this a concept album, but it definitely maintains some continuities throughout, both in the frequent use of samples and narration which hover just under the noise at the start and end of several tracks, as well (and especially) in the overall tonality. It is, of course, another cliche to describe music in visual terms, but the fact that this album was originally recorded under the name Ocean Machine is no accident – the riffs employed, and the actual texture and wide-screen mixing of the guitar tone seem to mimic the rhythm and structure of waves and tides, and to evoke an extremely oceanic mood. Sampling some actual waves and seagulls towards the end of “Funeral” doesn’t hurt this case, of course, but even penultimate (on the reissue, at least) track “The Death of Music,” which eschews metallic elements altogether, is for me extremely evocative of flight across the vast expanse of the sea. Devin’s vocals begin with whispers and eventually gain in strength as the clear synth tones swell beneath him; by around the ten-minute mark, his clear wailing seems to channel his inner Bono, but honestly, I kept being reminded of Moby’s track “God Moving Across the Face of the Waters.” The songs sound very little alike, but they both produced similar imagined landscapes for me.

If you’re looking to this album for individual songs, you will of course prefer the first one-half to two-thirds of the album (all the way up to “Regulator”). Without meaning to downplay the strength of many of those songs, I actually prefer the second half of the album, and especially the eighteen-minute stretch of “Funeral” and “Bastard.” Each song has its own notable components, but work in tandem to produce in a seemingly more intentional fashion the sort of meditative suspension and tonal calm that I have been arguing the album as a whole creates. The bonus track, “Things Beyond Things” could be removed without damaging the whole, although I do think the instrumental opening of the track is a nice release from the somewhat anticlimactic ending of “The Death of Music,” which would be fine if it had restricted itself to just fading out with the soft, programmed percussion and spare sound effects (which were, actually, somewhat reminiscent of early 1990s ambient/IDM such as The Orb, or especially The Future Sound of London’s excellent Lifeforms album); instead, we get some more dialogue (which may be idle band chatter, or may be sampled from somewhere, I couldn’t quite tell) about a driving range on the sea or some such nonsense. Kind of killed the mood for me at the end (speaking of which, the very end of the bonus track is not so quiet as it might seem as it fades out – goes to show that Devin maintains a healthy sense of humor even in this, which seems in many ways to be one of his more serious and straightforward solo endeavors).

Bottom line: Much of this review has probably sounded like damning with faint praise, which is really only the case because I think Devin’s later solo works got even better. On its own terms, though, this is a very strong progressive/heavy metal record, and manages the quite impressive feat of being both busy and simple, complex and contemplative, heavy metal and (arguably) ambient. This is hardly the first, and will definitely not be the last time I say this: Devin Townsend is my favorite musician in heavy metal, and you could do a lot worse for yourself than buying up every last damn thing he has done.

Overall rating: 92% (I was originally pegging it as an 85% or so, but listening again to those chord progressions in “Greetings” and “Funeral” [especially just after the "Jesus was a poor boy" lines] sends beautiful fucking chills down the spine.)

(Note: Originally posted at http://spinaltapdance.wordpress.com/)